Unbound

Felix shut the door. “Explain.”

The Chanters stood in the center of the room, eyes roaming over the jars and sacks, the fire, and Pit, who sat unperturbed on the woven rug. Laur, in particular, stared pointedly at the Skull of the Forsaken.

Tzfell folded her arms below her bust. “The Kingsrock was once a Nymean stronghold. The oral histories the Dwarves tell of the Hoarfrost try to diminish that fact, and the written records of it have been wiped by the Ruin, but the clues are all there. The path to approach is even called the Starfield Step.”

“Why wouldn’t you have mentioned this before?”

Tzfell lifted her hands placatingly. “I did not mention it previously simply due to the mixed company we find ourselves in—or did you wish this knowledge to be bandied about among your entire company? It would have soon traveled into the ears of the Frost Giants, and they need no more reasons to covet the Kingsrock.”

“That’s fair, I guess.” Felix gestured, yanking on a bright connection with Adamant Discord at the same time. A pair of giant-sized chairs slid across the stone tiles as tiny branches of lightning burst from his fingertips. “Take a seat.”

“Thank you,” Tzfell said, eyeing the chairs. “I had not realized you had such fine control with that ability.”

Felix scooted aside the jars and sacks with his hands before sitting down himself. “That’s because most things don’t respond well to getting hit by lightning, even if it’s just a little.” He pointed to the minor char marks on the frame of the chairs the Chanters perched atop. “The act of drawing on the connection creates a sort of…friction. Thankfully, the Risi over-built these.”

“Fascinating,” Laur said, studying the blackened markings. “Connection to…you? What sort of connection could you possibly have to a Risi wrought furnishing?”

“The longer I’ve been here the more certain I am that we’re all connected,” Felix said. “Some are whisper thin threads and others are thick as chains, but they’re all there. For instance,” he pointed to Tzfell and the bald Dwarf raised an eyebrow. “Tzfell bears a number of threads to the Frost Giants. They’re weak, but definitely there.”

“Tzfell?” Laur shifted toward her, clearly surprised. “You’ve dealt with the giants?”

“Many Dwarves have. I met my fair share in battle a century before you were born, Laur.”

“You said you came from the Rimefangs originally,” Felix said.

“I do. The clans of the Rimefangs have long fought against the monsters of the Hoarfrost, the Frost Giants primary among them. There is not much here, only snow and stone, and anything else the Risi Kin need they turn to raiding. The Rimefang holds have been their target for an Age, delivering death to a great many border villages in their eagerness for our resources. That, I imagine, is what you are detecting, Lord Autarch.”

Felix sat back, tracing the many ephemeral threads that spun out from the Dwarven Chanter. Laur had some too, but they were almost invisible aside from the ones to Felix and Tzfell. Anytime a person interacted with another it established a fragile connection in his sight, so thin as to be invisible. With Tzfell, hers were delicate but distinct, and spread around her like a cloak. His Mind caught on an idea, and he flared his Manasight. He’d never tried that while looking at the threads, but they were made of Mana as much as anything. He wrinkled his nose. They tasted of stale violence, and sour yellow disdain.

Manasight is level 81!

…

Manasight is level 85!

“You hate them,” Felix said at last.

“That…is fair to say. I can remain civil, however, if that is your concern.”

“It’s part of it, yeah. If things go as planned, these people are going to be under my Authority soon, and the last thing I want is elevated tensions. If you can hold your grudges in check while we’re here, then we’ll be fine.”

“I can manage that, Lord Autarch.” Tzfell’s tattoos shifted atop her skin, altering the geometric pattern slightly. “But there is a portion of our history I must explain.”

“Okay. Tell me.”

“I mentioned that the Dwarves once made the approach toward Kingsrock, and I also mentioned that it cost them a great deal. A Prince of the Undermount led a war party into the Hoarfrost with the intent to conquer it, and they slayed all that came against them. Risi Warriors and Berserkers fell to their mithril blades while the teeth and claws of elemental beasts could not penetrate their enchanted deepstone armor. When they came to the Starfield Step their approach was heralded by lights in the sky and chaos in the tundra. Somehow the Kin were ready for them, and the Dwarven war party faced their collective might.

The Prince managed to beat them back, but it was the deadly traps within the Starfield Step that harmed his people the most. Hundreds were lost in the chaos. At the end of it, the Prince was left with two score warriors, but he was able to climb the Kingsrock.”

“Climb?” Felix asked. “Is it literally just a rock? I thought you said it was a Nymean stronghold?”

“The accounts of its appearance are muddled. This was a long time ago, centuries before I was born, and the Dwarves do not keep written archives.” Tzfell clenched her jaw. “The Ruin stole into the records regardless, altering memories just enough to turn things askew.”

“Okay. So then what? This Prince made it into the stronghold?”

“He did. Inside he found ‘great treasures’ that once belonged to the Nym, but the specifics are not told outside the halls of the Undermount. For a time, the Prince tangled with the Authority of the Kingsrock, but could not make it submit to him even though he stood upon its Seal. After an uncertain amount of time, he lost even that. The Prince was driven out by a gathering of Frost Giants and their monstrous allies. His retreat was bloody and cost him half of his surviving warriors, but it cost the giants as well—it was the beginning of a long enmity between us.”

“So these treasures are why you believe it to be a Nymean ruin?” Felix asked.

“Yes.”

“That’s pretty thin,” he said. “What happened to the treasures?”

“That is unclear. The Prince was said to arrive home with a king’s fortune, but the nature of it is unknown to those outside the royal family. His exodus was such that I imagine a great deal was left behind within the Kingsrock.”

“Hm.”

“I wished to come here and tell you this because I believe we should remain as upfront as possible with one another. The Cantus Sodalus needs the Unbound, the entire Continent does, and I would have your trust if I can.”

“I appreciate that attitude. Trust is hard to make and simple to break, but this is a good step.”

Tzfell bowed in her seat, followed closely by Laur. “I only ask that you trust us enough to help you. The powers we bear are not inconsiderable. Laur is of course gifted with wards and shielding spells, and I am adept at conjuration and battle magic. Our true value, however, comes from the knowledge of our long years of life, and it is that we wish to offer to you, Lord Autarch.”

Felix was curious about their specialties, and he made a mental note to ask more about that later. “How so?”

“To delve into that, I wish you to know that your Conqueror of the Ironskin Domain Title has shocked the both of us. While Zara has informed us of your battle against Divine agents and slivers, I will admit to certain doubts. Truly a Divine being, no matter how limited, would be able to overcome a mortal—Unbound or not.”

Felix just smiled and spread his hands, palm up.

“Yet your Title makes your accomplishment clear. You battled the Risi’s god and defeated him…that alone is a deed worthy of legend. I wish only to know…how?”

“I punched him.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Really hard.”

Someone knocked on the door. Felix frowned, but the Chanters weren’t distracted.

“You killed a myth with your bare fists?” Laur scoffed. “You expect us to believe that?”

“I don’t care if you believe it, that’s what happened,” Felix said. His Perception flooded the corridor outside of his room, and he stood up. “I appreciate your honesty, and the information you’ve given me will be very useful. But understand that I carry secrets that aren’t just mine.”

He opened the door, just as Vess raised her fist to knock on it again. She was dressed in a beautiful, ankle-length gown embroidered with swirling patterns along the hem and up the long slit at the side. It flared over her hips and cinched at the waist and left her strong arms bare. She smiled, a deep dimple forming in her dusky cheek, and her golden brown eyes crinkled at the edges as she gave him a once-over. “Did you forget, Nevarre?”

Felix stared a moment longer before clearing his throat. “Of course not. Why would—they were just leaving, actually.” He turned to the Chanters and thanked his luck that they were already striding to the doorway.

“We appreciate your time, Lord Autarch. Know that we are available to offer our input on any…extraordinary events that you encounter.” Tzfell bowed to him and gave a lesser one to Vess. “Lady Dayne.”

Laur followed on the Dwarf’s heels, pausing only to give Vess’ hand a chaste kiss. “Milady.”

“Chanter Laur.”

He turned his sharp features to Felix one last time. “That Skull you recovered is quite interesting, Lord Autarch. I would love to look into it with you, if you have the time.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Very well.” He retreated down the hall, his long legs easily overtaking the shorter Chanter.

Vess watched them go. “What did they want?”

“Information, but at least they offered something in return.” Felix took a deep breath and released it, pushing the Chanters’ visit away from his thoughts. “I thought you were going to be here a bit sooner?”

“Yes, I apologize for being late. Someone materialized an illusion of themselves in my dressing room.”

Felix’s eyes widened and panic swarmed his chest so bad that Pit looked up from his book. “Uh…”

Vess squinted at him, but after a moment huffed a small breath. “Good. Your emotions are as shocked as your expression. I will take that to mean it was unintentional…and that you saw nothing.”

“Saw—? Were you changing?”

“You will never know.” Vess’ cheeks were flushed as she walked away from the door. “To dinner, Lord Nevarre?”

Felix scrambled after her.

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