Book 3 - Chapter 33 - In strange company, walking upon strange lands (Patreon)

AN: Recovered from COVID after a few days of being bedsick. 0/10, don't recommend, I'd write a 1 star yelp review if I knew where to post the review.  

Last chapter was already double length, so I'll cut it in half and will be overwriting the COVID notice post with the second half. That'll keep the pace between RR and patreon without too much headaches. 

Enough rambling, time for the next chapter:

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 I woke up to the smell of food.

Which was an entirely unexpected event, since last I remember I was falling down to my death, after being fatally stabbed in the gut. Just to make sure I’d be extra dead when I reached the bottom.

Admittedly, not great odds.

Waking up was a slow affair at first. Realizing I was still alive took me a few cycles of belief and disbelief. Taking slow breaths came next. Creaking my eyes open came last. Wondering if I was about to see the afterlife, and what sort of amenities I could expect up here.

A relic armor helmet stared right back at me, a little too close for comfort. And by little, I mean nearly headbutting me.

I gave a slight shout, trying to scoot away on instinct before realizing I’d been propped up against the side of a tree trunk, with a small campfire near my feet. A few skewers of unidentified meat were being roasted slowly over the fire, left unattended.

The relic knight before me said nothing, helmet still staring me down.

“Am I… dead?” I asked, trying to back my head at least a few inches away.

The knight continued to stare for a moment more, before they backed off finally and gave me some space. “No. You survived the fall.”

That was a woman’s voice without a doubt.

“How?” I asked, more confused. “I’m pretty sure I was at death’s door and already had front row tickets in hand.”

“Death’s door has tickets?” She asked, seemingly genuinely confused.

Oh boy. I was with some strange company here. “Err, that was a joke.” I said. “My mouth runs on autopilot sometimes and I blab, terrible habit, leads me into trouble more than anything else. And talking about that, how exactly am I alive again?”

“I healed you.” She said, as if that explained everything.

I didn’t say anything, waiting for her to elaborate, but she seemed to think that was the end of my question, turning around to the campfire and poking at the skewers to keep them from burning. I noticed a few other features as she moved around. That relic helmet was a half-plate version, which left the back and neck exposed. Lightly tanned skin from the bits of her neck I could see, but that wasn’t what really drew my attention.

The blond hair I’d thought was ornamentation was actually her own hair. Ridiculously long, tied up in a ponytail and stylized too, like a physics defying poofy mess. I’d spent time around Kidra, so I knew exactly how difficult it was to get hair to look like that. And given we were in the middle of absolutely nowhere, I was morbidly curious what sort of bargain with the devil this woman made to get those results.

But I digress. I had to find out what kind of bargains she’d made to keep me alive in the first place. “That’s it? You healed a completely unhealable wound?”

A moment of silence. Her head stood straight up, as if she’d come up with a brilliant idea. “I bribed the ticket man.” She said, sounding almost proud, staring me down again as if expecting something from me.

My head needed a moment to mentally reboot.

“That was a joke.” She quickly added, sounding supremely flustered.

Okay. Reassessment: I was in very strange company.

My hand hesitantly reached out to my stomach and I found out a few things. First, Journey was online and functional, given I could move my arm without effort, so the fuel cells must have been replaced while I was out of commission. Second, I had no helmet, and no idea where it had gone, given it had been thrown off a cliff last I saw. And third, my other arm was still torn up from the beating To’Aacar gave it, and moving that was next to impossible. Battle damage hadn't been patched up clearly.

It’s the fourth thing that was the absolute weirdest. My stomach - which should have a large hole punched through, seemed completely healthy. No trace at all of any damage, just a regular stomach with pink fleshy bits all there and working.

This had mite bullshit space magic written all over it in bold font. That and her perfect hair.

I turned to my rescuer, getting over the oddity that I was still alive and kicking. “Not to be ungrateful or anything, but who are you?”

“I am Hecate. A Deathless.” She said without preamble. “I was traveling by when I came across you.”

Deathless? Okay, things were starting to make sense. I’m in the presence of a demi-god, which explains the hair, and the whole not being dead thing. “So that’s how you healed me, some kind of occult spell?”

She nodded. “Yes. I’ve recently learned how to heal people.”

Nice, in good company at least. Wait, before I get ahead of myself there’s a mystery I had to resolve here. “Erm, I wasn’t a splattered corpse on the ground? Are your powers strong enough to bring people back from the dead?”

I had vague memories of being caught in midair, and I’m not sure if it’s my tired mind that’s making things up, or if I really did get caught by an angel of some kind.

“No.” She said, turning her attention to the food. “I caught you before you landed.”

“Another kind of Deathless power?”

The helmet turned my way, as if insulted. “I have wings.” She said plainly, as if it were evident and anything else I was insinuating was uncouth.

Right. Of course she'd have wings. Who wouldn't? Silly me.

I didn’t see anything that looked like wings from here, but wings could be spectral for all I knew. Armor wise, the only oddity I could spot was the metal half skirt she wore, made up of metal blades all snuggly hugging her hips with different lengths. It looked vaguely like folded wings?

“All right,” I said with a shrug, deciding not to question it further. “I’m just happy to be here.” I brought my legs back under me and stood up. The metal groaned for a bit, and high pitched whizzing escaped parts of the armor cracks, reminding me that Journey was really straining itself just to move right now. “How long has it been?”

“Five hours, twelve minutes, twenty two seconds. We are approximately twenty three miles away from your initial fall. The area was dangerous and I needed to carry you away… My relic armor has been tracking the details.”

Two things learned from this: The fight between Atius and To'Aacar would have long been over with.

And second, she’s very by the books. I had in inkling of her personality - I’ve seen it before. If she’d been in the clan, she’d have been one of those Retainers that were perpetually pissed off at how everyone flagrantly ignored proper protocols and rules - specifically idiots like me. Logi kindred spirits they were, just born into the wrong House. Except Hecate seemed more the new generation, the wide eyes rookie who hadn’t yet lost all that initially innocence in thinking everyone was only doing a one-time infraction, and certainly wouldn’t ignore rules a second time.

Ergo, exactly the sort of person I found personal fulfillment in finding out how many buttons I could push before they tossed me into boiling water. That said, I owed her my life so far, and more importantly - she was a gods damned Deathless. Annoying an immortal demi-god for giggles sounded like a not-so-great idea. I’m going to have to work extra hard not to let old habits pop up.

I stood up, and took a respectful bow. “I realize I haven't properly introduced myself yet. I am Keith Winterscar, a surface knight from clan Altosk, in service of House Winterscar. Thanks for the save, owe you a favor, Lord Deathless Hecate.” No aches or anything. Felt like I’d had a great night’s sleep actually. Whatever kind of healing power she had, it was absolutely game changing.

Hecate paused, giving my impromptu bow a measured look that gave no hints through the armor’s faceplate. “I suppose you do.” She finally said, almost cryptically.

An armored hand reached out to snatch a skewer out of the fire, to which she offered my way.

I didn’t decline the offer of course, taking the food and a seat at the campfire, waiting for it to cool down.

Hecate brought one armored clawed hand and dislodged her helmet, while the other hand brought her own skewer closer. It gave me a view of her full face for the first time up to now.

Don’t know why I expected her to look like anything else, she’s an immortal demi-god touched by divinity. The only other people I’ve seen come close to Hecate in terms of looks were in the digital books. There was something ethereal and otherworldly in her looks.

But if she looked like an angel, it only lasted up until she started eating. In about three bites and one second everything was gone from her hand. She'd stuffed her cheeks full until they puffed out like a rodent. And by everything - I meant everything. The stick was no exception. I could hear the crunch of wood from here as she chewed.

I was in very, very strange company.

Hecate caught me staring eventually and I took my cue to eat a bite of my own food before anything could get awkward. I’m not sure if it’s impolite to avoid eating the wooden part, but I didn’t come from her culture and didn’t have a jaw made of fucking steel.

Food was edible. I’d rate it an average meal out of ten. No spices, or anything fancy, but she looked to be traveling light. Not even a backpack with her, I wouldn’t expect her to be carrying spice pouches in her hands just to eat a little better. I’m not complaining, this lady outright saved my life and now I’m getting a free meal out of it too.

On her part, she seemed mortified, glancing down at her empty hand and back at me a few times, face flushing red.

Shit. I might have insulted her cooking by not eating the skewer itself. Undersider culture was a black hole and all I knew came from the pilgrims. Imperial customs might not be vogue down here, or niche even.

Well. When among friends do as friends do. And all that other terrible life advice.

I bit into the skewer and started to munch on the stick bite by bite.

Awful.

Terrible bitter taste that seemed to linger all over my mouth and suck out all the moisture. Plus I needed to really mash it up into a pump before I could swallow the thing, else I’d get splinters lining down my throat.

“Got water?” I wheezed, coughing a bit from the ordeal. Hecate on her part kept bouncing her gaze between me and to my right side, looking a lot less mortified and now simply confused. Trying to tell me something?

I raised my hands in mock surrender, deciding it wasn’t worth trying to pretend anymore. “If you’re trying to tell me something, I really can’t understand. Completely honest here. I’m from the surface, I’m not familiar with any of the undersider customs. Hand signs, or any kind of signaling included.”

The Deathless nodded, waving away the issue as if it wasn’t what mattered. “There’s a stream nearby, but I do not have any canteens with me.” She pointed in a direction, probably where the stream was.

“Do you just drink directly from the stream?”

Hecate paused as if considering the question for the first time in her life. “Yes?”

You couldn’t say that with any kind of conviction? Gods above, Deathless down here were an enigma. Atius brought with him all the standards as far as I’d heard. Maybe he was the one that had gone native after spending so much time among the clan, and out in the wild Deathless were far less reliant on any kind of tool?

You know what, not going to question it either. Emergency needs first. I had wood in my mouth and a desperate need to wash it down somehow. I stood up, hoping Journey was up to the walk and excusing myself for that drink.

“I’ll come with you.” She said, also standing up to follow behind.

“I’ve never met another Deathless besides my clan lord.” I said, passing the time and trying to stick the wad of mashed up wood pulp on the side of my cheek. “I always heard Deathless spend most of their time in the lower levels, and this is just the first strata. Are you one of the new Deathless I keep hearing about, or part of the old guard?”

She paused for a moment, as if considering what to say. “I have been a Deathless for one month and -” She stopped. “About two months now.”

“Two months?” Wait - Deathless don’t have any previous memories, according to Atius. Could she have been traveling around here aimlessly ever since her awakening? Has Hecate never been to an Undersider city yet? That explains some of the oddities: She’s gods damned feral.

On the other hand, if she had just recently become a Deathless, that put her straight into the camp of the new generation - the strange generation. Again, not helping her case out here, but the new generation was supposed to have one thing the older ones didn’t, if I put together all the bits and pieces I knew about them so far. “Do you remember your past life?”

“Yes.” She said, putting that theory to rest. Up ahead we got our first viewpoint to the stream I so desperately needed.

“Who were you?” I asked, as we reached the bank.

She didn’t answer that, and for a moment I thought I’d asked some kind of taboo issue. “I was a soldier.” She eventually said and then went quiet.

“Was a soldier? Something happened to change that up?” The stream itself was a nice coursing thing, to which my gauntlet added a slight metallic tint to it as I brought up a handful to drink from and swished it around my mouth, swallowing the wood pump with a bit of effort. I took a few more drinks to get the gunk out of my teeth, cursing myself for accepting food in the first place. My other arm was still shredded and moving it around was a chore.

Hecate didn’t answer my last question, staying quiet instead. I took it as an invitation to swap the topic, since this clearly wasn’t something she wanted to talk about. “So what brought you here? You were traveling around you said?”

“My primary objective is to find a mite-speaker. I need to confer with one for additional guidance."

"Mite speaker? Never heard of those."

"A religion based on hu- on people who claim to speak with mites. They're often considered madmen by the cities and exiled outside once they cause too much trouble. I believe there might be more to their ramblings, if I can find one and speak to them. However, recent events have forced me to expend a great deal of my power cells." She tapped the side of her leg with a finger, right where the cells would be. "With my reserves low, I need to find a fountain to restore power first before I can continue my search. I was not able to share enough with you to repair your armor either, only enough for basic movement."

"Can't hunt any machines around here and swipe their cells? You're a Deathless, first strata machine should be like scooping snow to you."

She shook her head, frowning. "There are currently no machines nearby."

I did notice this on the way. One blast door passed and suddenly nothing on the other side was trying to kill us. Except for To'Aacar and company.

"I've never heard of machines just abandoning an entire sector." I said.

"They moved and gathered into one place." She said, cryptically. Before I could ask more questions, she turned the tables on me. "And you, Winterscar? Why are you here?”

“Need to get to the Undersider city of Capra’Nor. My sister’s supposed to have returned from there a few weeks ago, but no sign of her yet. So I came looking. Heard anything about that city?”

She nodded. “Yes. That is where the machines in this sector are gathered currently." 

So that's why Kidra never came back. Clan intel was right, machine movements down here were the culprit. She must have been caught in the middle of the war. I need to get to her fast, help her get out of this mess. We don't need the Undersider knights to help us anymore, not with all the advancements we've made using Talen's spellbook. Or if I recruited Hecate to come up to the surface for a few months and help clear out the incoming raiders.

"Think we can still make it in time to help?" I asked. "Once we get the power cell problem handled and my own armor patched up, we could join the fight there."

"There is no fight." Hecate said sternly. 

"What?"

"There is no fight." She diligently repeated. "The city surrendered a week ago. It has been under machine rule since.”

…

What?