Chương 39: Chapter 38 – Condemned by Name and by Nature

"Lio, what the fuck?" Bracken breathed the question, awe struck by the titanic corpse. The feeling gripped him like a hand through a glove, muffled and distant, but felt nonetheless, the sageroot doing its work.

"Marvellous, isn't she?" Lio preened.

"Don't be shy, come and see." He fetched a bag of tools from the desk by the wall and led the way. Bracken followed, joined by Torvin and Sable. Ressa and Passage waited by the entrance. Those two always had more qualms and more wisdom than the rest of them. They crossed the cavern towards Maerun, for Lio had to be correct in who she was. It was not merely her size but her presence which even in death radiated grandeur.

A hum filled the air, vibrating against Bracken's skin, vibrating through his bones, just outside of hearing range. He could feel it, the cackle of magic, the veil between the mortal world and the Planes so thin he could almost part it with his fingers.

"How?" Torvin asked, no less awestruck. Sable stuck close to Bracken's back, eyeing the dead god like she might still break free from the ice and attack.

"A lot of very boring work, mostly. Archaeological surveys. Stained dive teams searching the bottom of the lake. A fortune spent on Implements and maps and translating whatever primary texts we could purchase from around the War of Ascension," Lio listed the expenses like achievements of his own. They stopped before Maerun, her body trapped deep within the ice. She had died on her knees, arms held out at her sides, head tilted back.

It was her right hand that the company had excavated, down to the second knuckle of her pointer and index fingers. They had iced over, but it was as though she wore a frozen glove compared to the solid block that trapped the rest of her. The pale flesh of a bloodless wound showed where chunks had been cut from the tips of her fingers.

"This is the treasure? This is how you mean to Stain more Wardens?" Bracken surmised. Perhaps without the sageroot he'd have been horrified. Meddling with corpses was a thing of Thulmor, the sort of black deed that good men did not do. It stood to reason that meddling with the corpse of a god would be a great deal worse of a sin. Still, he found himself more curious than condemning.

"Her blood is, at least. A pain to extract, it takes a bit of work, some time, and the right Implement. But we've got it down to a science." He removed a small hammer and chisel from the bag, chipping away at the ice.

"We think it's a product of her being an Aldaryn. She's more Plane-stuff than flesh and blood. We're lucky the ice forms around her like it does or else the whole Stillwake would be chock full of monsters."

"The Hollows that attacked the ship. She's what happened to them?" Bracken wasn't really asking, the answer was obvious enough.

"Not quite," Lio had the decency to look troubled, but stopped shy of guilty. He looked the three of them over, squinting at Passage and Ressa in the distance.

"Those poor souls were from one of the first vessels we tried to send back to Greymere with a sample for research. Before we learned that you need to be careful storing the stuff, or else the magic gets to you. Turns you Hollow or opens rifts that bring things worse than Hollows through. Wood, stone and steel, none of them offer protection from it any better than a cloth from flame. That's why we use these," he held up a glass vial.

Not the transparent sort, but something murky that bordered on black, streaked through with white and grey.

"Glass made from the sands of Caleth. Excellent material for Warding. Traps the magic nicely." Bracken had long understood that he knew next to nothing about the family business. He was fast realising that he'd known even less than that. Dead gods and sunken glaciers were a far cry from imported wine and fancy cloth. But then again, the venture was new, and Bracken was far from the favourite son.

He'd done all he could to avoid the merchant's path, it was a small wonder that he hadn't known that things were changing. Still, this was so much more than he could have imagined.

"One of the vessels? How many crews have you lost? How many men?" Sable asked. Lio looked askance, scowling at the question or the answer, it was hard to tell.

"The same vessel, three times. When the samples turn men Hollow, it seems to compel them to dive into the lake. We got the ship back easy enough after, each time. The samples only ever hold their power for a week or so before they go inert. I suspect that'll get longer once we improve upon the vials. As for how many men… more than I'm proud to admit. But we paid a sum to each of their families if they had one, what recompense we could." A fistful of coppers maybe.

Small fucking mercy for a grieving widow or orphaned child. Lio still looked proud. Little wonder he was the favourite son if he could already do the sort of arithmetic that balanced coppers against souls. Bracken bit the inside of his cheek. The magic in the air nipped at his skin, dragged claws against his spirit the instant his temper flared. It felt like Maerun's ghost was watching him, waiting to seize upon a strong enough emotion and bind him to a Plane.

If joy had not felt so distant, perhaps he would've gambled. Instead, he let himself grow cold. The dead god may have been the more impressive sight, but Bracken thought he might steal some sageroot on the way out. It was an understated treasure. Ideas and inferences unfolded at the back of his mind, arguments and assumptions were challenged, accepted, or discarded quickly and callously. Even that was sentimental pantomime, he knew.

The plan had been decided for them the moment he had learned the treasure Tallow sought lay at the bottom of the lake.

"The black glass contains it, and the potency lasts a week," he repeated.

"And how's it meant to be used?" Lio, more pride than sense, answered.

"Correct, though we still recommend the crews keep their distance from the stuff, and we've fitted each of the company vessels with a safe lined with the same glass for safety's sake. Freshly harvested, it's still too potent to be used safely. Turns men Hollow almost immediately. But after a few days, a drop of the stuff is enough to thin the veil. Put it in the same room as a few resonant materials, give someone the right emotional stimulation, and it makes Staining easy.

We've not perfected that step yet, honestly. Hard to find volunteers, even with hazard pay on offer, but we're confident the Wardens can work out the kinks."

"And you're harvesting it how?" Bracken asked. He felt Torvin and Sable's eyes on him. The two of them knew him well, heard the planning in his voice and saw the motion in his stillness. Thankfully, he and Lio were not as close. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"That was the first challenge to work out. The flesh is too potent, and we assume the bone is likely worse. So, we take the blood," Lio fished an odd tool from the bag. A black handle tipped with a metallic needle thick enough to be used as a straw. He affixed the black vial to an opening in the back of the Implement and ran his thumb along the handle's side, the metal lighting orange in its wake.

"Custom made, though less expensive than you'd expect. Got a great deal from a mate of mine in the Tinkers' Guild. Think he was just keen on the challenge, honestly." Lio lined the tool up against Maerun's exposed finger and pulled the trigger. The needle shot forward, burrowing deep into the goddess' flesh. It thrummed with power and steam rose from Maerun's finger as heat quickened the frozen meat, thawing and siphoning blood a drop at a time. Visible through the murky glass, the blood did not sit still.

Luminous green, the first few drops shifted and moved chaotically. They beaded like mercury before exploding into mist, fell like rain, froze solid in a blink and melted just as quickly. The blood changed from moment to moment, railing against its containment.

"How long does that take?" Bracken asked, nodding at the Implement. Sufficiently embedded, Lio released it to do its work unaided.

"About half an hour to get a decent sample, though it's getting longer every time. Suspect we'll need to remove the fingers and start harvesting from a spot deeper soon enough. But she's a big woman. Reckon she'll keep us supplied for years and years to come, with plenty of time to work out how to use the rest of her."

"And the sageroot, how long's a dose of that last?" Lio finally turned to him, eyebrows furrowed. Too many questions, too quickly. Lio had an ego, but he'd drunk the potion too. He wasn't an idiot, just prouder than he was clever. He looked from Bracken to Sable to Torvin and back.

"A couple of hours. Maybe four. Why?" Bracken bent down and picked up the hammer Lio had used to chip away the ice. Lio shook his head. Disagreement or disbelief, it didn't matter. There was a lockbox on the ship where the blood would be stored. Bracken did not know where it was, nor the location of the key, or the passcode if it had one. Lockbox aside, there were nine-armed sailors, killers one and all, besides his brother aboard that ship.

They were two days from Greyemere, three if the winds were against them, and the closer they got to the city, the more dangerous the theft became. Bracken thought himself clever enough, but the Stillwake was enormous and he wasn't so arrogant as to think he could find the glacier again unaided, let alone get back inside. No. Alone without witnesses and only five unsuspecting guards hundreds of metres away through a stretch of winding tunnels. There would be no better chance than this.

"Bracken," Lio said, a warning and a plea, one hand going to the pistol on his belt.

"Your men down here, have they got medical supplies? More of that Caleth ointment?"

"Whatever you're thinking, don't do it," Lio's voice firmed, ordering, not asking. Sable and Torvin stepped to either side of him, wolves circling to surround their prey. Bracken had vouched for their loyalty the night before and he had not lied. The Wyrms were loyal to none but one another. Lio would have to make do with their remorse.

"If you'll cooperate, we can just tie you up and gag you. You're still my brother, Lio. I don't want to see you hurt."

"But you'll fucking rob me? Rob the company? Father was right about you. I argued with him, pleaded with him on your behalf, and this is how you repay me? Why? Drinking money? Drug money? Gambling debts? Tell me, Bracken." Lio pulled the flintlock from its holster and aimed it at Bracken's chest.

"You're not going to shoot me, Lio," said Bracken, almost sure of the fact. Lio thumbed back the hammer in silent rebuttal. The sageroot had them both feeling somewhat callous, it seemed. Bracken didn't wait for another threat, he lunged forward, stepping into Lio's reach and aside from the gun's lethal maw. He brought the hammer down against Lio's hand, smashing the weapon from his grip, and a few small bones simultaneously.

The pistol clattered to the ice, spinning away and thankfully not misfiring while Lio clutched his broken hand and fell to his knees in pain. The hum in Bracken's bones droned louder and the magic sank teeth into his skin.

"Fuck," Lio gasped, eyes watering. He glared at Bracken, questions mingling with contempt behind his eyes.

"Why, Bracken? Fucking why?"

"It's like you and father said, Lio. I've got a debt to pay. For what it's worth, I am sorry."

"You fucking snake," Lio growled. Torvin stepped in behind him and wrapped an arm around his throat. Lio clawed at Torvin's wrist, struggling. Sable stepped in, sank one first into Lio's stomach and threw another at his jaw. Lio struggled on, older and stronger than either of them. Bracken raised the hammer high and Lio's eyes found it, glinting with the promise of greater harms. He stopped resisting, likely the last favour he'd ever do his youngest brother, but it spared Bracken from letting the hammer fall.

A traitor, a liar, and a thief he may be, but he'd no desire to gamble on fratricide. When Lio finally stilled, Torvin let him fall and Bracken checked his breathing. Slow, but deep and steady, in no risk of dying. Better a sore neck than a head wound. He snatched the silver vial from around Lio's neck and placed it around his own. He felt weighed down, as if pinned to the ice by Maerun's judging gaze. But her face was turned up, her eyes were closed, and she was still just as dead.

"What have you done?" Passage asked. He and Ressa had finally joined them in the shadow of Maerun's corpse, drawn closer by the violence.

"What we had to," Bracken answered, still numb, still cold. He felt it though, the guilt and the loss. It pressed against the sageroot, water held in check by an old and crumbling dam. There would be tears and regret come morning, but for now he had to act.

"We need to tie him up, gag him, and shift him as far from the body as possible. He can hate me all he wants, but I've no intention of letting him go Hollow." Ressa looked troubled, as did Passage. The two of them still helped. Lio wasn't unconscious for long, waking while they dragged him to the entrance. He glared with narrowed eyes; mouth stuffed with a gag cut from his own sleeve. Hands and feet bound; the others watched him while the Implement finished its work.

It was a long twenty minutes before the vial was full and Bracken spent it looking anywhere but at his brother. When at last the Implement fell silent, Bracken sealed it with a glass stopper he found amongst the tools. The blood pressed itself against the glass, defying gravity to spill towards his palm. The liquid swelled, somehow multiplying and growing with each passing moment. The glass held firm, for now. Bracken stopped beside Lio's bound form as the others headed into the tunnel to make good on their escape.

Sable stopped at his side, neither condemning nor condoning. She just placed a hand on his back, silently complicit. It was more than he deserved.

"I really am sorry, Lio. You won't see me again." They hurried on into the tunnel, leaving Lio where he lay. Bracken tried not to think of all the things he left behind, the future and connections now as dead to him as a god entombed in ice. Lio shouted something into his gag. The words were muffled, but Bracken understood them well enough, more of the same refrain.

"Father was right about you." That was wrong, of course. Bracken was worse.