Super-Soldier in Another World

Lance let out a relieved sigh as the mountainous figure of Halm retreated into the distance. Sane or not, she could not bring herself to feel safe around one of the accursed. Despite that, she found herself wishing that his journey would be relatively safe for him. Losing his mind, only to regain it before losing it again sounded like a horrible fate, and despite her feelings, she could not say that Halm would deserve such a thing. He had been a hero on a quest to vanquish Kazon, a noble goal to be sure, one that she hoped he’d succeed in. Ideally before her party encountered him of course.

Strange, she had been so young when he had apparently ventured into the Fiendwood, only in her thirties if his timeline was accurate. Was that when she’d began training as a Watcher? It had been so long since then, it was hard to remember. Everyone seemed to think that an elf’s mind was a steel trap, but that was far from the truth. At least, it wasn’t like that for Lance and most of her race. Terlin though, he truly did have an un-fading memory, much to the Trinkett clan’s chagrin.

She frowned at the fact that the council member had crossed her mind. Lance had enough to stress about at the moment, thinking of Terlin certainly wasn’t going to help her remain calm.

“Well…” Elum said with a stretch and a sigh, “That was a good exercise, let's not try and repeat it in the future, yes?” He asked no one in particular as he strode over toward the collapsed form of Tolak.

“What are you doing?” Alistair asked, quickly following after him, “You’re not thinking about taking those are you?”

Elum shrugged in response as the others fell in step behind him, Twindil quickly overtaking him before he could reach the fallen Fiend.

“I know it's tempting, but two things first Elum, I need to ensure that the chains won’t somehow transfer the curse, and we need to figure out who the chains are compatible with.” She explained, grabbing him by the shoulder. His graying shoulder.

Elum quickly shrugged out of her grasp, “Don’t touch me!” He snarled.

He clutched at his discolored limb tightly, his red knuckles on his other hand turning white with strain. Lance could almost swear that the gray arm had… shifted beneath Twindil’s hand, but she was unsure if that was a trick of the light or not. He certainly didn’t appreciate it being touched that way, but Twindil seemed to not be aware of that fact, for her eyes widened in shock as she stared at her friend. His devilish horns, red skin and snarling face truly made Elum appear the devil that many claimed Ifrit’s to be.

“I’m sorry Elum… I didn’t mean-” Twindil started.

“No.” Elum cut her off, “Sorry for snapping at you. Just…” He paused with a heavy sigh, “Just don’t touch my arm again.”

“What, does it hurt?” Alistair asked in faux concern, “Well quit being a pansy.” He sneered, “Just ask her to heal it for you and it won’t be sore.”

“It isn’t sore, you wretched fop.” Elum said snidely, “Just… just don’t touch it, any of you.”

“Ugh,” Alistair grimaced, “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Uwgh,” Elum mocked, pitching his voice high, “Wasn’t pwanning on et.”

Lance couldn’t help herself from moving towards them, sparing a glance for Hoplite to see if he’d try and stop her. She didn’t think that he would, and if he knew what was best for him he’d keep his mouth shut, or she’d give him the rough side of her tongue. She had almost done so earlier when he’d shouted at her to get away from Halm… but she couldn’t bring herself to do that when his order was sensible. He said nothing, simply looming over the collapsed bodies of the Fiends like a statue as his helmet faced the horizon. Likely he was pondering whether or not Halm could be trustworthy, not the worst way to utilize his intense paranoia to be sure.

A deep bitterness at his earlier comment still seethed within her, but she’d need to try and keep it in check. It was hard though, what he had said cut deep, but what was worse was the realization that he’d been right to say it. It had made her furious at the time, but allowing her mind to become muddled that way during battle would have likely resulted in her death.

“Very mature.” Alistair sneered, crossing his arms.

“It wouldn’t be fair to you to banter like an adult,” Elum said, a slight grin beginning to replace his snarl, “Considering your limited mental capacity.”

“I guess you’re right.” Alistair said flatly, “In that case though, it would be fair, considering that you’re about the same size as a child.”

Lance frowned, looking over to Elum and seeing that, while shorter than she, he was by no means child-sized. He was of a normal height certainly, maybe a bit on the thinner side… He was smaller than Alistair though, who stood a head above the Ifrit.

“You admit through your own words that I’m right.” Elum said, the snarl replaced with a smug smile. “Baby-brained oaf-boy.”

Alistair frowned and opened his mouth to retort, but a sharp, intent glance from Twindil made his words die in his mouth. The paladin shook her head and gave a sigh, taking note of Lance as she finally reached the group. Nolvi had been trailing right behind, keeping her eyes firmly on the ground at her feet. Hoplite and Michael still stood where they were previously, the Outworlders both conversing on how much ammunition remained in the wagon.

“If you could both act your ages please, we must focus on the matter at hand.” Twindil said, placing her fists on hips as she glowered at them, “I understand that you both must be interested in that Fiend’s chains, but I need you all to wait a moment while I try to identify them. After all, what if it gives its wielder the curse?” She asked sharply, “We have to be careful, and remember, the item has to be compatible with whomever tries to wield it. In a way, the item has to choose you, not the other way around.”

“We know that.” Alistair replied curtly, “But I don’t believe the curse could possibly transfer through a magic item.”

“And with what are you basing this hunch?” Twindil asked, “Is that really a risk you’d like to take without first letting me ensure that it is safe?”

Alistair remained silent a moment before he finally said, “Very well, go ahead and check. As for my hunch, I’ve seen members of my clan claim magical items from victims of other curses with no transfer, but you’re right, no point in taking the risk.”

Twindil then nodded firmly, clearly satisfied. She then looked to Lance, who had been standing just slightly to the side of the group, “Are you also wishing to try and claim those chains?”

Lance opened her mouth to deny any such intent, anything that had been wielded by a Fiend could surely not be anything but cursed… but as she remembered what Hoplite had said, her mouth clamped shut. Maybe with these she could actually be able to join him on the battlefield again, just like when they’d first met back in the Faewood. Strange, that seemed so long ago, yet in reality not even a full month had passed since they had first met.

“Oh don’t worry yourself,” Twindil said, drawing Lance from her thoughts as she patted her shoulder reassuringly, “We don’t think you’re being greedy for wanting them, the tools Tolak left behind would be better used serving our cause.”

“I…” Lance started, “I’m not sure if I would deserve such a thing.” Her shoulders tensed as she spoke, staring over at the fallen body of Tolak, the chains gently snaking around on the stones, like loose roots seeking soil.

The greed in her heart urged her to lash out for the chains, to shove Twindil aside to claim them for herself. That avarice dug a sickening pit of guilt in her heart, and she knew right then that she shouldn’t be the one to take them.

“And who exactly deserves it? The Fiends?” Alistair asked, “Better in our hands than theirs.”

“Plus,” Twindil interjected, “It isn’t exactly a matter of ‘deserving’ it, but whether or not the chains will choose to bond with you. Such creations have something of a soul of their own; if you can believe it.”

Lance’s lips pursed, “So then I just need to have the same mentality as an evil Fiend and the chains will bind to me.” She said sarcastically, shaking her head, “Perhaps they will choose none of us.”

“You don’t have to be evil.” Elum said sharply, “One just needs to possess a personality trait that it favors.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Alistair countered, “You must be, for lack of better words, ‘aligned’ with the item. The Atheyare have been all across Ahkoolis, and have heard every single interpretation on how the bonding takes place, but our reasoning trumps all others, in my experience.”

Elum sneered, though when he spoke, there was no heat in his tone, “And what would that be?”

“If the Soul within the creation thinks you’ll use it for its intended purpose.” Alistair replied, crossing his arms, “Think of a magic spoon, you wouldn’t use that in a fight right? No, you’d use it to eat of course, and that’s what the Soul would… I hesitate to say ‘want’, but that is the word that comes to mind. Bonding is based on intent alone, not morality or personality, it is preposterous.”

“I don’t agree.” Twindil replied, “At least, not completely. During my time in Akan-Dar, I’ve seen bonding’s take place where the wielder had no plans on using the items in their intended fashion, and oftentimes they would end up using them in ways alien to most folk.”

“I’d say you were trying to be contrary,” Alistair said with a huff, “but I know you hate that kind of thing. Truth is, no one knows for a fact what the requirements for a successful bonding are.”

“I know how to successfully bond with those chains.” Elum said with a smirk, his hand finally leaving his graying arm as he stood up straight, “They will come to me like a puppy to a child once they see how devilishly handsome I am.”

“But you’re ugly and the chains don’t have eyes.” Alistair said, his brow furrowing in faux thought.

“Village lasses love me,” Elum replied with a snort, “I’m a bright red forbidden fruit and that burns you.”

“Pfft.” Alistair shot back smartly, “I’m a bwight wed fowbidden fwuit- shut up.” He mocked, pitching his voice higher as he grinned.

As the two matched their ‘wits’ Lance looked to Twindil, who was glaring at the two men like an irate mother. Eventually, she sighed, looking defeated as her eyes once again shifted to Lance. “Let us leave them to it.” She said, turning to face the body of Tolak, “Honestly, they’ve both seen nineteen winters but they still act half their age. Apparently boys don’t become men until they reach their thirties, at least, that has been my experience.”

“For elven men it’s when they reach their hundreds.” She laughed quietly, “Truthfully though I’m not sure men ever stop being boys, that hasn’t been my experience.”

“Oh?” Twindil asked as they finally reached the body.

Lance struggled to maintain the sudden good humor she’d felt at seeing Elum and Alistair argue, but seeing the splattered remains of Tolak’s head dashed against the bridge made that difficult. Still though, she tried.

“...To be fair,” She said, prying her eyes away from the gory mess, “Girls never really become women either, not until they reach their thousands.”

“Uh, yeah.” Twindil replied after a moment, kneeling by the wriggling chains. “Their thousands, of course.” She said flatly, nodding.

Lance felt her lips purse against her will, face growing hot with embarrassment, “If they are an elf.” She clarified.

“All women that aren’t elves are doomed to stay girls for their entire lives then?” Twindil asked with a laugh.

“Of course not!” Lance said sharply, “It is relative to the race’s total lifespan.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that.” She replied ,“Anyway, I’ll need to grab both of the chains to properly identify; Afina willing I’ll be able to determine if they bear the curse.”

“I’ve never fully learned how it is that you spellcasters identify such things, come to think of it.” Lance said, “Would you mind clarifying?”

“No offense but…” Twindil started, hesitating, “Aren’t you over two-hundred? I’m sure you’ve had to have learned about this by now.”

She giggled, waving a dismissive hand, “You can live for two-hundred-thousand years and still not know everything there is to learn, forgive the ignorance of this wretched old hag, just this once.”

“My apologies, you do make a fair point… I think.” Twindil said after another moment of brief hesitation, “You see, a caster does not communicate with the object directly, there needs to be a sort of mediating party, usually in the form of an angel.”

“So Baomiel could tell us about the chains? Why not just call him over here?” Lance asked, “It would spare you the effort of summoning one yourself.”

“It is not that simple.” She said, “See, Baomiel isn’t that type of angel. Most aren’t visible or even have form, battle angels such as he are an exception to that rule.”

“That’s right.” Alistair said, he and Elum apparently finished with their spat, “Baomiel doesn’t reside in the Astral plane between Ahkoolis and the realm of the Pillars, he’d be unable to tell us anything about it. You would need an angel that exists solely within the Astral realm, one that could force a temporary bond between itself and a magic item.”

“For Twindil,” Elum cut in, “That would need to be an angel of Afina, as her magic exclusively draws Foundation through Afina’s Pillar.”

“I think I understand.” Lance said, “Now, if we find that the chains don’t bear the curse, who will be the one to try and wield them first?” She asked, her eyes darting to the gently writhing chains.

If she had something like that, he wouldn’t call her useless again. No one would. But she couldn’t bear the thought of degrading herself by proclaiming her want for them. She would be patient, and wait her turn.

“Me.” Elum said, gently jabbing a thumb into his chest, “I know exactly the kind of spells that would work perfectly with animated chains. That, and they would add to my innate charm, enhance my ‘freed devil’ look.”

“Could you be any more foppish?” Alistair asked, “‘Freed devil’ huh? Sounds like you really are that fruit you claim to be.”

“Coming from the one with daisy hair; now stand back and watch a master at work!” Elum declared, taking a step toward the body.

“Not yet!” Twindil shouted, “I haven’t even begun to identify, stay back until I’m done.”

The three then entered into further chatter as she looked back toward Hoplite, who now seemed to be speaking with Kid’ka, Michael still at his side. She wondered what they could be talking about… Likely Hoplite was asking Kid’ka what exactly this ‘Mouth of Zodd’ was. She certainly hadn’t heard about it. She looked away again, noting that the angel Baomiel was nowhere in sight. Neither was Theopalu for that matter, but the old codger was probably still sleeping in the wagon, no mystery there. No mystery for Baomiel either, Alistair could dismiss the being at will.

She’d need to try and talk to the angel when she found the time. Lance was sure that he would have some incredible stories to tell. An angel that served the Pillars couldn’t possibly belt out anything boring, that was for sure.

“No curse.” Twindil said suddenly, drawing her attention once again.

She needed to stop getting so lost in her own thoughts and start concentrating on the now, it was irritating to get constantly drawn out of her headspace. There was plenty of time for thought when everyone else was asleep. Twindil unhanded the chains, letting them flop back to the stone with a gentle clatter, to where they resumed their lazy wriggling.

“Alright good,” Elum said, rubbing his hands together, “Let's see if these things have some sense.”

He took each chain in a hand, holding them aloft triumphantly for a minute straight, “See, I have been chosen!” He declared, “Now watch as I use these chains to throw Alistair into the Shot!”

Alistair gripped his hammer, face tensing a moment before he released the grip.

“I’m just joking… these things don’t seem to care for me much.” Elum said with a shrug, dropping them to the ground, “Their loss honestly, they don’t seem to realize how perfect we would be together.”

“Of course they wouldn’t choose a fop.” Alistair said smirking, “Watch this, Sir Forbidden Fruit.”

With that, Alistair gripped the ends of the chains, holding them at hip-height while humming an unfamiliar tune. Another minute passed, then another, before Alistair frowned, gently letting the chains back down to the stone before crossing his arms with a huff.

“Well, that’s just not fun.” He said, scratching his chin, “I’m going to go see what Kid’ka and the others are up to, see if any of them want a shot at claiming these for themselves. Could you imagine Hoplite with these things?” He asked.

Lance paled at the thought. He was already the most dangerous warrior she’d ever witnessed… if he had these chains too, she doubted that anything would be able to stop him, well, except maybe Kazon, or the Dragon of the East. Perhaps she should let him try… but that would only make his shadow even larger. No, she’d be the one to try next… besides, he may not even want to try and take them.

She could imagine it now ‘Negative, the magic will give me brain parasites and that would make this mission sub-optimal’ something like that. That is, unless Twindil wanted to have a go?

“You were the one who took the time to identify them, you should have a try before me.” Lance said, urging the half-elf toward the chains.

“No, I am quite alright. I was planning on trying it last to tell the truth, chains…” She hesitated. “Chains make me uncomfortable.”

Lance understood… Twindil had grown up as a half-elf in Umant of all places, she was lucky she’d only been clasped in chains instead of being fully clipped. Curiosity nearly nudged her into asking an inappropriately personal question, so she suppressed it. Lance would not pry about Twindil’s upbringing, not if it would hurt her to talk about it. If the paladin wished it, she would tell Lance, and she’d leave it at that.

“Very well.” Lance said, taking a deep breath as she stared at the chains.

For an instant they seemed as dangerous as vipers. What if Twindil had gotten a bad reading back from her angelic contact? Would she become cursed anyway? Had she even identified them properly? Lance hadn’t seen any flashes of light or any form of chanting, Twindil had simply knelt down and held the chains for a minute, surely that couldn’t be enough to determine if they were harmless… Yet, she had no reason to distrust Twindil’s judgment, she did not seem to type to let something like that slip past her.

She’d have faith in her friend… and if she did end up cursed well… Alistair could always summon the Golden Flame… Pushing those dour thoughts from her mind, she gingerly reached down, hands grasping the surprisingly cold chains before she lifted them into the air. A minute passed of the chains gently wriggling in her grasp, then another, until finally she despaired that nothing felt different. Was there supposed to be something special that happened during a bonding?

Lance was certain that there was, yet she felt… nothing. Would she continue to be powerless for this journey? A hindrance to Hoplite and the others? Her teeth clenched, and she found her hands gripping the metal tightly.

No.

She’d not hold this party back from their goals, even if these wretched things refused to bond to her.

Lance would become powerful without them. Power would be hers.

She went to throw the chains down to the stone, but found that…

She found that they wouldn’t come off.