The Infinite Bk. 02 Ch. 08

Elyot sighed, straightened his glasses, and walked away. "Keep it up, you mewling dullards, and I'll send in Gradius to take care of you."

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This time, Grond arrived at the warehouse early and took a favorable position up in the rafters. He kept his eyes on the nearby window and the door, anticipating, hoping, and dreading the arrival of the second party. Then, the door opened, Noah standing in the way, his face hidden again by bandages. He walked into the center of the warehouse with an audacity that irked Grond. He readied his knives, looking for an excuse to kill this stranger.

"I know you're here, Grond. Reveal yourself. If you make me look for you, if you take any kind of hostile action, you will meet the same fate as your three comrades."

Grond remembered his training, the years spent learning to control his fear, to harness it as a power rather than suffer from it as a hindrance. He and the Harajin channeled their fear to move faster and fight harder rather than tremble and hesitate. He was trained to ignore the deaths of comrades in battle and instead deliver a killing blow to the enemy while they were distracted. It was a honed instinct, one now telling him to stay his hand.

This man had killed Oritz, was likely the killer of Hulf, and had displayed his skills before Grond's eyes the previous night. Whatever magic or moves he used, they seemed to hold a style advantage over the Harajin.

"I'm up here, but you'll have to convince me to come down."

"Good, I'm glad you got my message."

"Same time, same place. What do you want from me?"

"Bakudan. I want to know how it works. If you give me the information I want, I can make it worth your while."

"You mean the antidote?"

On cue, Noah held up the stolen bottle. "With any luck, the knights haven't used that other potion yet. Once they find out what's inside, all of your good intentions will have been for nothing, and they will never trust the Harajin again. However, if you go to them now, explain the situation, and give them this, then everything can be forgiven."

"Why do you want to know about the spell?"

"Like Cyrilo, I have an interest in magic. Bakudan is a very curious spell, and I want to study it. Nothing you tell me will ever be spoken of or written down. It's a secret I'll take with me to my grave."

"And I assume this is something you already asked my comrades?"

"Just Hulf. He chose death over giving me what I wanted, a truly foolish decision. He did not die well, and it would be a shame if I had to repeat the process with you. I have what you and your friend want. If I didn't, then why are you here?"

"You killed three Harajin. You think I can just hand over clan secrets to someone like you?"

"Of course you can. You've gone against the Harajin before, haven't you? Disobeyed their laws for personal reasons? Just do it again. Explain the spell to me in all its details, and this madness can be over with."

Grond hesitated and jumped down from the rafters. "Tell me one thing: what do you know of the supposed peace accord Ortiz was carrying?"

"There is no peace accord, and the sword he carried belonged to a knight whose death was unrelated to all this. However, what was a lie can be made true." Noah revealed the knight's sword and held it out to Grond. "I'll give this to you as well. If you return this to the kingdom as an act of good faith, along with the antidote, peace between Uther and the Harajin can be possible. Concoct whatever story you want about how you killed me and retrieved the sword and bottle. Paint yourself as a hero while I take the role of the scapegoat.

I'm not an enemy to Uther or the Harajin, and without me, you wouldn't have this chance to shape the future. Imagine what it could mean if this goes well. Cyrilo told me you gave up your son so he wouldn't be raised to be a Harajin. You couldn't erase your feelings, could you? You can see him again, and be a part of his life without fear of the knights killing you on sight. We can all get what we want."

Grond slowly reached out to take the sword but stopped. "I can't. I am loyal to the Harajin and lack the right to give up clan secrets. However... Klein is ranked higher than me and can make these kinds of decisions. Add this to the pile, and I'll back you up." He held out the potion meant for Cyrilo. "This is what they came for, so he won't simply overlook an offer to get it. I reclaimed it from Cyrilo, but my companions already know it left my possession. I need them to find this on their own so the mission will be a success, and no one will ask questions. You stole it from me and are selling it back.

The antidote, sword, and potion. I can't imagine Klein refusing."

Noah took the potion with a spark of surprise. "You stole it from Cyrilo?"

"She gave it back."

"I imagine after tearing into you like a cornered mouse. It's perfect. Have him meet me here at dusk."

Noah departed, audaciously flashing his back to the assassin. He left the warehouse and began walking along the pier. Now that he had some free time, he was aching for a nap.

'Should I look for some quiet place to bed down, like the church, or go back to the Knight's Sheath and earn some bed rest from Bella?'

His indecision lasted only briefly and wasn't answered, as it was when he was passing by two dwarf ships run aground that he spotted something in the corner of his eye. It was low tide, and a body lay on the beach below the pier. The drag marks from the water were the only reason to believe this washed-ashore wretch was still alive. The distance failed to hinder Noah from recognizing Daniel.

"What the hell?"

He jumped down from the pier and ran over. It was Daniel, all right, breathing his last breath. Noah flipped him over onto his back and saw the large red stain on the side of his shirt. He drew a healing potion with steady hands and poured half on Daniel's wound and the rest down his throat. Even with the potion applied, his life was dwindling, and it seemed like death would overtake him first.

After a night spent being tossed by the ocean and then baking in the sun, his body was utterly exhausted. Everything from his skin to his organs was ravaged. Add the stab wound and his survival went beyond 'lucky' and just short of 'miraculous.' Noah gave him his last two potions, bringing him at least to a stable condition, though he remained unconscious.

"Guess I'm going to the Knight's Sheath."

----------

The dungeons of Colbrand, despite that title, weren't simply a basement beneath the palace. It was initially a military fort, built of brick and stone and fenced in by walls that could resist spells and catapults. It had been used to house thousands of prisoners of war in ages past, then repurposed to hold the city's criminals. But as it so happened, the man who ran the prison was himself a prisoner. In the lowest levels, special living quarters had been constructed. It was deep below the city but not so deep as to explain the stifling heat and thick steam.

It was being visited by Adwith Tarnas, walking the stone corridors without a torch and instead using his holy light to show him the way. He arrived at a heavy steel door, next to which a giant suit of armor was hung up on a rack, and gave a hard knock.

"Sven, it's Adwith."

"Come in."

Tarnas unlocked the door, and clouds of steam poured out. Only once it settled did he enter. The room he entered was a sensory deprivation chamber. It held a pool of water with hundreds of pounds of salt mixed in to let Gradius float effortlessly in the center. There was no light source, and the only sound was the flowing of fresh water and air out of pipes.

This room was the only thing that could calm Gradius's perpetual anger and served as both a bedroom and a prison cell. The water was boiling from the heat he was putting out, a common occurrence, but rarely did he reach temperatures like this. He was a large man, like Tarnas, and built like a bull. While his body was utterly immune to heat, not even eyebrows could grow without the hairs turning to ash.

"I heard you attacked a fellow knight yesterday. Have you calmed down enough to understand why that's a problem?"

"She got in my way."

"I don't care what she did; you do not attack your comrades. In what way has that rule ever been unclear?"

"She started it! She tried to save a criminal! She's one of them! She should be the one locked up! Her head should be on a pike! I'm gonna—"

"Enough!" Tarnas released a powerful wave of mana, shaking the room and managing to silence Gradius. The two men were silent, each letting their tempers settle. "Do you remember why I got you this position? Why I advocated for you, of all people, to become the royal executioner?"

"The pursuit of justice. You said... you said I should focus on punishing evil and upholding the law. You said I could learn to control my fury if I had a reason to."

"That's right. You were just a mindless beast when I found you, a slave to your rage, and my orders were to kill you just like any other monster. But I saw potential in you, the chance to turn that pure chaos into a force for good. I still believe in that potential. I believe you can help protect this nation, and it takes more than just killing to do that.

Why do you think I want you here in the city instead of just rampaging on the battlefield? It's because you need to learn how to live without anger, to live without constantly looking for something to destroy. I wanted you to learn to see people as something other than enemies. Your job is to maintain peace, and to do that, you must know peace within yourself."

Gradius released a deep huff. "I'll try."

"This isn't the kind of thing you try. You either do it, or you don't. Tomorrow, if there is no steam in here and the water is calm, I'll let you out for the festival. That's a very fair offer. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Good, then think about what I've told you."

Tarnas departed, leaving the lowest levels and returning to the main dungeon, where a similarly tense conversation was happening in one of the jail cells.

"No, no, no, no, you cannot punch a man in the balls during a fight," Roc groaned, sitting against the bars. Since waking up, he had barely moved. His whole body was aching to the point that he couldn't even stand.

"Hey, anyone who comes swinging at me better be prepared to take a punch, and where that punch lands is nothing to be ashamed of," said Foley. He had found a small scrap of wood and was whittling it with a spoon to stave off boredom.

"Your parents really failed with you."

"I don't know what you're so hung up over. If you're fighting for your life, you can do whatever you want and fuck anyone who has a problem with it. And let's not forget the undeniable fact that it is the funniest thing ever conceived. You show me a guy getting struck by the gods of irony, and I'll laugh until I get hiccups."

"Going for the balls is just cowardly. I'll do sneak attacks, surprise attacks, go for the eyes and throat, but I ain't hurling any low blows."

"I'm a fucking dwarf. Low blows are pretty much all I can do."

"Only a woman can hit a man in the balls and it's acceptable. My sister said it's how the gods evened the playing field."

"Well then it's the same for dwarves. We're short and strong with a punch like a battering ram. Mine is a race devised to prevent too many tall assholes from breeding. You turn into an arrogant shit, and we'll knock you back down the hard way. Men, elves, all the others, you all live in terror of us mighty dwarves taking you tall guys down a peg, one nutshot at a time, ending your bloodlines."

"One day, you're going to end up fighting someone really tall with a codpiece like a tower shield. What then? I'll tell you what, he'll punt you into the ocean. You won't even be able to chew on his ankle like a rat."

"At that point, I'll just climb up and headbutt him. We dwarves are thickheaded, and you'll never find a skull thicker than mine. I could knock a charging bull on his ass."

"Whatever you say."

"Hey, I mean it."

"Break this door open, then I'll believe you."

"Any other dungeon, I would have snuck off by now, but not with that lunatic executioner around."

"Well I haven't seen him in a while, and it doesn't seem like they're going to be releasing us soon, so we might as well try to find a way out. It beats just sitting here."

"And what might you have in mind?"

----------

"Hey, can I get some help over here?"

Noah had arrived at the Knight's Sheath with Daniel slung over his shoulder like a bag of dog food.

Seeing the two of them, Lucius rushed over from behind the counter. "Shit, what happened?"

"It looks like he might have been mugged and left for dead. I found him washed up on the beach. Let's get him to bed. Can you call Rita?"

Lucius helped carry him to the back room and lay him on the cot. Noah checked his neck, finding a weak but steady pulse. The problem was that he was dangerously cold. He had been lying out in the summer sun for hours, probably keeping hypothermia at bay, but his body was so exhausted that his metabolism had slowed near the point of shutting down. Rita arrived with blankets and went to work.

"Can you save him?" Noah asked as she flooded Daniel's body with holy energy.

"I honestly don't know. I usually just tend to wounds left by abusive patrons, never something like this. It feels like much of my power is just splashing off him without doing anything, and he won't wake up. I don't understand."

"I've seen it before," said Lucius. "In battle, when trying to save my friends. If someone is close enough to death, potions and magic lose their effectiveness. Even if the soul hasn't yet left the body, it's like trying to heal a corpse."

"The body has already accepted death and doesn't realize it's been saved," Noah muttered. Like Lucius, he had experience as both the one dying and the one trying to save them.

"It also depends on the will of the victim. It's hard to save someone who doesn't want to be saved." Noah heard Cyrilo's voice, but when he turned to the doorway, she was not the woman he knew. No amount of makeup could wipe away the three decades she appeared to have lost. "Magic is fickle that way."

"I'd say so," he replied, maintaining a straight face but not looking away.

"I suggest we all leave Rita to her work. Hopefully, you and I can continue our conversation upstairs."

Noah left Daniel and followed Cyrilo up to her room, where he once more sat across from her desk in her study. "If you're still offering drinks, I'll take you up on it."

"I could use one myself."

She revealed two glasses and filled them with spirits from an expensive-looking decanter. Noah sipped the sharp nectar and sighed. "So, would you care to explain this?"

She lit her long-stemmed pipe before answering, and the smell of gonlief filled the room. "A curse. I believe you heard me mention it before."

"Yes, and?"

"It is one of the greatest dangers that we researchers face in pursuit of our studies. Most spells you see are used in combat and tend to be simple in concept and short-lasting, but there are many that have a continuous effect and even stick to people, including the caster. A positive effect, like a boost to one's strength, makes it a blessing, and a negative effect, or an unexpected cost, makes it a curse. Many adventurers have lost their lives by foolishly wielding enchanted items, not knowing they carried curses."

"Is that what happened to you?"

"Somewhat. Several years ago, I came into possession of a stone slab from a lost civilization with a curse inscribed. It offered eternal life but at a high cost. Every dawn, the victim takes the form of a newborn baby, reaches middle age by midday, and the twilight of their years at dusk, and then regresses during the night to their infant form with the next sunrise. Eighty years experienced forwards and backward in one day, but those days continued forever.

I tried to rewrite it, to receive eternal life with a... lesser cost. It didn't work. I didn't undo it, so much as reverse it, meaning I age backward until sunset. I've been searching for a way to undo the curse ever since. All I've managed to do so far is adjust the aging process, so I go through a single life cycle instead of two, but I spend my days as an old woman. That potion Grond was supposed to deliver would have been my 20th or so try."

Noah felt his heart skip a beat as he looked at the expansive collection of books and scrolls. Twenty attempts to undo her curse failed, but they might be able to undo his. At the moment, his knowledge of magic was in its infancy, so he couldn't even read Cyrilo's notes if he tried. Hopefully, the academy would change that. This room was his best lead in centuries. He just had to wait until he could adequately utilize it. Patient, he needed to be patient.

"So, was it worth it? To get eternal life?"

"This is not the way I want to spend it."

"But it's why you learned shamanism, isn't it? You use your cat form to conceal the effects."

"I don't usually bother concealing it. Everyone figures it out after a few days or a week at most. The curse is inactive when I take the form of a cat, letting me remain in one form and one age, something that I sorely miss. It helps me skip through the most inconvenient stages of the metamorphosis."

A sudden laugh escaped Noah, but contrary to Cyrilo's scowl, it was directed at himself. Smoke, makeup, and the changing screen. No wonder he never noticed.

"Is my suffering funny to you?"

"No. Like I said before, yours is a plight I can easily support."

Noah thanked her for the drink and departed. It was the afternoon lull, but what should have been a peaceful period was flushed with activity. All the beds had their sheets and blankets changed, so the halls were filled with prostitutes and chambermaids carrying away stained bedspreads and applying clean ones. Down in the parlor, he found Bella sitting at the bar in a simple dress.

"Oh my," she said in a sultry voice when she saw him. "My favorite customer, my darling!" He sat at the bar, and Bella immediately moved onto his lap. He didn't show any visible reaction; he simply put his arm around her with his hand sliding into her dress as if it was his pocket.

"Just the girl I wanted to see." He began playing with her tits as he spoke, much to her enjoyment. An amusing discovery; her ears reacted to how he played with her nipples. A teasing pinch would erect them and make her shudder while tracing around her areolas would cause them to slacken.

"I happened to be on my way to the bathhouse," she said, "but you can have me anytime, anywhere."

"Actually, I was hoping you might let me borrow your room while you're gone. I just need a place where I can close my eyes for a bit."

"Of course, make yourself at home. But when I get back, you have to repay my kindness, and I don't mean in money."

'Great, now I'M a prostitute.' "Deal."

She departed as the bartender appeared. "Lucius, how is Daniel doing?"

"Rita is still working on him, but at least he's not dead."

"Who knows, he might surprise us. A cup of tea, if you would."

A cup of tea and four hours of drooling sleep later, and Noah was keeping his promise. He was holding Bella up against the wall of her room, her breasts heaving with every thrust he made. There was no weakness in how he held her, no flaws in his aim, no disruptions in his movements, no issue that Bella was aware of. It was perfection, born of experience, something she knew the young man should not have had.

"Harder! Deeper!" she cried.

Noah altered his hold, lifting her legs higher over his arms to bend her posture. The change in angle, albeit slight, let Noah press his cock harder against her front wall in a sustained grind. Her voice was audible to almost the entire brothel. Her pussy so greedily accepted him, slicker than melting ice but hot with passion and ecstasy.