Amdirlain’s PoV - Veht? - Atlantic Ocean


    Amdirlain stood looking over the barren rock beyond the dunes and hummed at the back of her throat. The dragons’ occupancy had probably lasted over a thousand years since they’d driven humanity from the equivalent of Europe and the Middle East. Though it would have appealed to her gamer’s viewpoint to wipe out hundreds of dragons, it prickled at the back of her mind as something unnecessary and too simple a resolution. The haste with which she’d dispatched Demeter added to the unease.


    “Penny for your thoughts?” Sarah asked from the doorway. Amdirlain was considering her response when Sarah moved forward and leaned against the porch railing. “You’ve been staring at those rocks for hours.”


    “There needs to be a better option,” said Amdirlain. “Killing them feels too easy and wrong.”


    “Why?”


    “Are you able to set your Dragon prejudices aside?”


    “Probably not, but if you’re considering reasons not to kill them, I’ll argue the counterpoint,” said Sarah. “That might help you coalesce your thoughts about why you don’t want to.”


    “Tia’s added traits to them that were never in the original plan,” said Amdirlain. “For all their intelligence, they’re giant predators that don’t know any better. I don’t know why Ori didn’t correct it earlier.”


    “Balance,” muttered Sarah. “And I think that might be why Tia consumes the chromatic souls, so they don’t continue to intensify their evil natures over multiple lifetimes. Though I never knew she did that until you found out.”


    I assumed the answer lay in her vicious nature.


    “Do you think that because of something Ori said?”


    Sarah’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “It was more than just that, since she introduced devils to counter the Abyss’ creation of demons. If she were purely interested in the good beings of the realm, she would have found a different way than adding devils to the mix. An unbalanced wheel doesn’t turn right and will break the axle if something else doesn’t break first.”


    “How good are your Artificer abilities?”


    “How about you tell me what you’re thinking about?” countered Sarah. “Roher is right that you go for far-reaching ideas.”


    “I want to set up a situation that motivates the red dragons to repair the environment and keep it that way,” said Amdirlain. “While the planet provides some Mana, the condition of the environment improves Mana quality.”


    “You know Mana doesn’t have a taste,” said Sarah.


    “But a healthier environment produces more,” argued Amdirlain.


    “Yes, but reds are only concerned about what empowers them personally. They don’t care if more dragons could live near them.” countered Sarah. “You know about the lonely mountain situation where the dragon just swoops in and steals everything? Well, that is classic Red Dragon behaviour. They don’t care about building up anything, only what glorifies them.”


    “What about if I set up a situation where they’d gain more glory and shiny things from not destroying everything around them?” asked Amdirlain.


    Sarah’s gaze didn’t leave Amdirlain’s as she slowly shook her head. “You feed them, and they’re going to want more.”


    “Not feed them as such. I want to channel their greed and hunger for power into a less destructive outcome,” said Amdirlain. “But I don’t know how to tackle it. It has to be an approach that doesn’t require True Song so others can duplicate it. To get the situation working, I’d need to contain them, hence asking about your Artificer abilities.”


    “Dead. They won’t hurt anything further,” countered Sarah.


    “You said this happens regularly.” Frustrated, Amdirlain jabbed a finger towards the wasteland. “If I simply kill them off, that will keep happening. Everywhere with too many red dragons, their paranoia cascades into destruction.”


    With a shrug, Sarah motioned inland. “What if there isn’t a solution? Monsters are around to strengthen people. Maybe red dragons are around to strengthen the metallic dragons’ belief that unbridled greed or focusing only on a larger hoard is a bad thing.”


    “If we can devise a societal approach that directs their greed, we can test it here, and others can implement it on other worlds,” proposed Amdirlain.


    Sarah frowned. “Any deaths that come from that the plinth will drop on your bill.”


    Amdirlain braced her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “I can’t live in fear of what the plinth will do. If I can’t live to a standard that makes me happy with myself, what’s the point of pleasing it?”


    “Temporary pain, long-term gain,” observed Sarah.


    “Long term pain when I can’t stand myself.”


    Sarah conceded the point with a reluctant nod.


    To keep her hands from balling in frustration, Amdirlain waved at the shore. “How long would establishing barriers to contain these dragons take?”


    “Decades, if not longer. I wouldn’t be able to manage it if they were abyssal reds. Still, the barrier will need lots of excess capacity,” snorted Sarah. “Let’s go up to the North Sea and park somewhere on the other side. I’ll need to create a proper forge, and it’s just as well you’ve stockpiled metals in Foundry for me.”


    “Okay.”


    “There is a big if around even getting the barrier established, let alone enduring any combined attacks,” muttered Sarah. “Though if I can’t, I’ll be the laughingstock of metallics for trying. Most will see it as a complete fool’s errand.”


    “Guess I’m the fool then.”


    Sarah caressed her cheek. “Negative self-talk.”


    Amdirlain caught Sarah’s hand and kissed her fingertips. “Maybe Gideon will give you an achievement related to my menagerie attempt.”


    “This is taking being a crazy cat lady to extremes.”


    Amdirlain smiled tightly. “I’ve often said that dragons and cats have lots in common.”


    The house reacted to Sarah’s mental instructions and started along the west coast of Ireland, but Amdirlain didn’t take her gaze from the ruined landscape.


    “Is your Precognition saying anything?”


    “No, but I just don’t want to add more deaths to this place,” replied Amdirlain. “Why are the northern highlands not barren as well?”


    “As far as I can tell, they’ve just not ventured that far north,” said Sarah. “Which is odd, but there aren’t any Dragon lairs nor evidence of depredations.”


    Amdirlain clicked her tongue. “Let’s confirm that’s the case. The demarcation feels too regular, and something about it is familiar.”


    “From?”


    “If I knew, then we wouldn’t need to investigate.”


    ? ? ? ? ? ?


    Amdirlain stayed on the porch as they moved along the coastline. Sarah primarily kept her company, but the others came out occasionally to enjoy the breeze. Klipyl would perch on the railing and watch the waves move under the house while the others would sit on the chairs Sarah had anchored on the porch. The hours watching the barren landscape cranked Amdirlain’s tension higher, and she felt the urge to heal it grow.


    It was only when the greenery of the Scottish coastline came into view that it began to ease away.


    It’s weird to think about all the places that would exist here if this were Earth. Using the names of nations that don’t exist here and never have is strange, but comforting.


    A regular pattern along a cliff caught Amdirlain’s eye, and she signalled Sarah to halt.


    As the house stopped, Kadaklan lifted his head from his reading scroll and looked across the shoreline before the porch. “What is it?”


    “There.”


    Amdirlain waved towards the cliff. The motion directed Sarah’s gaze, and she swore under her breath. “Gnomes. If this is their territory, it’s no wonder the dragons haven’t come this far.”


    “Why would they be afraid of these gnomes?” asked Kadaklan.


    “Maybe it’s not translating properly. The dwarven name for the gnomes is Stonekin. They most closely resemble Fey rather than any Mortal species—and that comparison seriously undersells their power—but I’ve only seen them on worlds where the Summer and Winter Court have a connection. They are intelligent manifestations of the planet’s crust, able to commune with it and alter continents if enough work together.”


    Kadaklan tilted his head curiously. “They sound like some Shen.”


    “They’re not Immortal, though the eldest in a clan might be several million years old or more. When they tire of being aware, they rejoin with the world. They’re powerful in various magics, and even the youngest can meld with any rock or metal, swim through it, and shape it with their minds. With enough, they can move entire mountains like a mudslide. Dragons like their lairs in caves, and when a group of gnomes can have the earth swallow you and your cavern, you tend not to sleep well in their territory,” explained Sarah. “Not unless you like a stone coffin. After they drag it under, they compress the walls, and millions of tonnes of rock isn’t something even dragons can deal with when it’s tight against their scales.”


    “I thought dragons could survive on Mana alone?”


    Sarah smiled grimly. “Gnomes can temporarily change Mana flows and isolate areas. I’ve never got one to tell me how, and you can’t read their minds. They wield enough magic to block teleports and dimensional magic. Try to shrink, and the cavern shrinks with you. If you’re lucky, they’ll let you go after claiming all your hoard as a fine for needing to educate you.”


    “That sounds like personal experience,” noted Kadaklan.


    “I might have been stupid enough to annoy a group the first lifetime I met them. Fortunately, I got released with a warning, but liquid rock flowing through your nostrils is a terrifying experience,” explained Sarah. “I only lived on the upper planes for the rest of that lifetime. While some of the locals are weird, they won’t kill you in your sleep or take your hoard.”


    “The power of the landlords is absolute, not just legal,” quipped Amdirlain.


    “Ha,” barked Sarah.


    “I crack myself up,” drawled Amdirlain.


    Kadaklan tucked his book away. “Have you developed an earthy sense of humour?”


    “You’ve been spending too much time with Klipyl and her puns,” said Sarah.


    “You’re hardly one to talk. You and Am both seem to delight in them,” observed Kadaklan. “Do the gnomes being here change your plans, Am?”


    “I can’t remember anything about them,” admitted Amdirlain.


    Sarah shrugged helplessly. “Not all the worlds have them, and other than their apparent connection to the Fey, I never learned their origins, and Gideon isn’t cooperative. If you want to deal with them, be polite and follow their rules when in their territory. For them, their laws and fair measure are absolute.”


    Amdirlain’s gaze returned to the cliff markings. “Any suggestions about how to approach them?”


    “If you ever need to speak to them leave gifts of metal and precious jewels on their border,” said Sarah.


    “What do they do with the gifts?”


    Sarah smiled. “They return them to the earth. I’d suggest we get a base set up first and figure out if we even need their help. If we do then approach from the north so they don’t associate us with the red dragons.”


    “Let’s continue on.”


    Sarah squeezed Amdirlain’s hand reassuringly and slid closer to her on the porch bench. They started moving, and the house’s smooth gait soon had them speeding over the waters again.


    They continued northwards until they rounded the Shetland Islands and struck off east. With the setting sun behind them, the rugged coastline faded into the horizon as they sped across the southern end of the Norwegian Sea. When they reached the east coast again, the waters beneath them darkened to match the snow clouds overhead—a light snowfall adding another layer to the dunes surrounding the various inlets. Further from the beaches, she could spot trees with narrow canopies, but they weren’t close enough for her to recognise the species. Beyond them, rugged hills showed glimpses of rock among the snow and ice that capped them.


    “Pick an inlet, any inlet,” prompted Sarah, drawing Amdirlain attention from the deep shade of the waters and clumps of free-floating ice.


    “Where are we?”


    “West coast of Norway,” advised Sarah. “Up and down here are an assortment of deltas. If we can go far enough inland, we can burrow into one hillside or another to give us extra living space when the winter snows roll around again.”


    “The snows haven’t left,” protested Kadaklan, wrapping his arms around his middle.


    Sarah grinned smugly and waved ahead of them. “Around here, the snowfall is measured in metres.”


    Kadaklan groaned. “I’m finding no comfort in your statement.”


    “The truth isn’t meant to provide reassurance or comfort. It merely is. Perhaps you should seek to understand the situation,” laughed Sarah.


    Amdirlain pointed towards their left, and Sarah headed the house for the northernmost inlet.


    Kadaklan let out a disgruntled sigh. “Further north it is. These lands are heavy with the influence of yin energies, and I’m more partial to the heat of the south.”


    “Yep,” Amdirlain waved in a northwesterly direction. “There is something in there I need to find. When we get to the imperial palace, you can thank the Jade Emperor for our vacation spots. We’re going to be here a few years.”


    The door opened, and the others came out to join them.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    “Running across powdered snow is good training for Ki Movement,” Jinfeng said, securing her hair in a complex braid.


    Klipyl darted to the railing and stared at it in delight before it melted in her hand. “It’s not ash. I’ve never seen frozen water drop from the sky.”


    “It seemed like a short journey with the house doing all the work, but it makes quite a difference in the temperature,” Jinfeng joined her at the railing, her gaze studying the steadily approaching shoreline.


    “Do we all fancy standing on the prow of a boat?” asked Sarah.


    Amdirlain smiled brightly. “The way the house hops across the water doesn’t give the same feel as a boat cresting waves.”


    “Gravitational plates avoid that,” said Sarah.


    “I can do without the icy water spraying me. It’s the wind in my face that is nice,” offered Kadaklan.


    Jinfeng went to the corner upright and glanced into the water. “Each to their own. I find it all makes the senses feel sharper. Perhaps it is the instinctive fear of plunging into deep waters.”


    The distant howl of a wolf sparked a response that sang out from the south. As the chorus continued, Amdirlain breathed in deep, enjoying the crispness of the cold ocean air. From somewhere to the north, a massive roar split the air, and all the wolves went silent.


    “You picked north,” drawled Sarah.


    Amdirlain nodded. “Maybe it’s for our noisy neighbour; I’ll go find what’s out there once we’ve got a spot to settle in.”


    I can feel the cold, but it doesn’t bite anymore. Cold Resistance really kills some of the experience; I’ll have to make sure I don’t underestimate the danger to Kadaklan or Jinfeng. It would be embarrassing to see them facing Judge Po for hypothermia.


    The first few islands they passed were bare sandbars, but the landscape soon grew rougher. They soon passed islands with steep hills along the river’s course, and eventually, they entered a narrow valley whose sides hosted a snow-covered forest. Sarah directed the house to settle on an icy beach when the river narrowed, and the stairs unfolded with a crunch.


    “We should be able to find somewhere suitable along this valley to dig in before next winter,” offered Sarah.


    “Are you going to make another expansive training hall?” asked Jinfeng.


    “Nope, just some standard rooms. We can practise restricted exercises indoors when it snows too much for you,” replied Amdirlain.


    “I’m not a thin-blooded southerner,” said Jinfeng. “The deepest winter is a good time for meditation, and the frost in the northern winds cuts like a blade. One has the least distractions when the world slumbers under the heavy veil of snow.”


    “Thin-blooded southerner? That’s hardly fair. This environment is overly thick with yin energy for an Immortal such as myself,” said Kadaklan. “We’re well north of Am’s original travel plans.”


    “I’ll give you that, but are we further north than the Jade Emperor intended for us?” asked Amdirlain.


    Kadaklan muttered. “It’s not like you’ll ever find out for sure. If you ask, he’ll say the path led you where you needed it to lead or something else vague.”


    “Perhaps the hardship of living here will help you earn greater enlightenment,” Klipyl said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I’ll keep you warm. I’m very good at getting someone hot and bothered. How long do you think we’ll be here, sis?”


    When Kadaklan didn’t stiffen in discomfort, Amdirlain restrained her smile. “Until I figure out what to do with the red dragons populating that wasteland.”


    I don’t think she tripped him up, and Kadaklan hasn’t told her no. Is he being friendly, or has he just moved her out of the mental box he had practitioners of decadent Dao categorised in?


    “You’re really sure about not taking the smacking route?” asked Sarah.


    “I’m confident I want to try. Whether I’ll succeed is entirely different, but I can kill them quickly if they push beyond their current territories,” replied Amdirlain. “While you get things set up, I’m going for a walk and see if I can find who let out that bellow from earlier.”


    “Is Precognition saying we’re close?”


    “Pressure on the back of my neck like trouble is nearby,” confirmed Amdirlain.


    She headed along the valley and, a few kilometres later, chose a route that led her into a northern branch, skipping across the rocks beneath the powdery snow.


    Would the snow have been like this in Norway, or is it colder here?


    Her wandering had taken her along several valleys when she caught a scent from a cave.


    A strangely deep bass voice croaked further along the path ahead of her, the words chewed up as if the person was unused to speech. “Who is there?”


    The figure stood four metres tall, with biceps thicker than a grown man’s torso and covered in thick white fur from head to foot. He had a distended jaw set with pointed teeth and tufted ears sticking out from the top of his head. Spurs of bone jutted through the matted fur along his forearms, and his long fingers ended in hooked nails crusted with dirt. Analysis provided his name and a smattering of primitive classes. Soul Sight showed the curse he’d inherited from his father and the hunger for sapient flesh that it imposed on him.


    “Hello Grendel,” murmured Amdirlain.


    He rushed forward, and Amdirlain flowed into a Storm Giant’s form. At eight metres tall, her muscular blue skin form loomed over him. Grabbing his hands, she spun on her heel and released him towards the valley wall. Swept from his feet, Grendel smashed through dozens of trees and into a jutting boulder; blood sprayed out from his shattered face and torn limbs. His hands spasmed, and his claws dug into the rock. Pushing off, he turned towards her, bones and flesh flowing back into shape.


    Amdirlain let flames crawl under her skin, and Grendel’s lips curled back in a vicious snarl.


    “Stop,” ordered Amdirlain.


    “You’re here to kill me,” snapped Grendel, and he raced forward. Amdirlain’s hand cupped his muzzle, and long fingers crushed his skull. A savage axe kick obliterated his legs, and she threw him back against the wall. More flesh was sprayed from the impact, but he didn’t stop moving. The closest pieces of flesh pulled back towards his body while whatever regenerative power he had restored his health.


    Not having to hold back makes a mess. If I use Enervating Aura, it will kill him and everything nearby.


    “Are you looking to die?”


    “I can’t die,” snapped Grendel as his legs regrew. Flesh flowed smoothly, and his clawed toes wiggled as he finished speaking.


    Amdirlain opened a Planar Gate, and the raging inferno of the Elemental Plane of Fire showed within the torn opening. “Charge me again, and I’ll toss you in that. Talk to me, and I’ll leave you alone.”


    [Planar Gate [Ap] (1->2)]


    His nostrils flared wide, and Grendel pressed back against the stone. “All who come after me seek my death.”


    The phrasing caught Amdirlain’s attention; her Precognition flared to echo the phrase’s importance.


    What has been trying to kill him?


    She let the Planar Gate snap shut.


    “I’ve no interest in killing you or torturing you for eternity, child of Caine. What I want is information.”


    Amdirlain considered the twisted knots that Soul Sight showed her within Grendel and checked them with Analysis. The effort triggered a notification.


    [Remnants of a divine curse


    Details: This murderer’s curse was carried over from another realm but is purely in existence through its translation. No divine support for it exists in this realm.


    Analysis [S] (41->42)]


    Grendel’s gaze narrowed. “How do you know me? Or my father?”


    “I’ve got an ability that allows me knowledge of others. You said all that came after you tried to kill you. What’s been trying to kill you?”


    “I’ve no reason to do anything for you. If you’re not here to chop me up as Beowulf did begone and leave me be!”


    I could just yank the knowledge from him, but what about his curse?


    “I could try to ease the impact of Caine’s curse on you for our intrusion.”


    “Try?” rumbled Grendel suspiciously.


    “A God set it in place, but they’re in a different realm, and no one in this realm supports it,” clarified Amdirlain. “It’s what makes you crave sentient flesh. If not for the curse, eating animals, likely even some plants, would sate your hunger.”


    “I don’t know what you mean by realm. A Fey gives nothing for free, and you seem similar enough.”


    “I want your information, and I don’t like curses inflicted on the innocent. You’ve had this one weighing on you since birth,” said Amdirlain. “The big question is whether I’m strong enough to shift it.”


    “Why should I trust you? The only people that haven’t attacked me are my mother’s kin.”


    “I don’t need your trust, but I won’t help without your agreement,” said Amdirlain. “You can’t spread your curse to anyone, and you’ve lived out here alone for over a thousand years. If you want to keep feeling empty no matter what you eat, I’ll leave you be.”


    Grendel sniffed the air and padded forward the snow, shattered trees crunching underfoot. “Who would want that, but why should I believe you can? This could well be a trick. A means to get leverage over me? How do I know you even could?”


    Amdirlain flared her Charisma and dropped Grendel to his knees from its pressure. “I didn’t say I could. I said I’d try. Has anyone ever offered you that chance previously?”


    “No, but what do you want from me?”


    “Information on what’s been trying to kill you, and how you came here?”


    “That’s all?”


    “Yes,” replied Amdirlain. “If I break it, all you owe me is some answers on those topics. When we part company, there will be no more debt.”


    “Fine,” growled Grendel suspiciously.


    She darted forward and seized his shoulder, and before he could shrug her off, she used Suppress Target aimed at the power and rage the curse fed him. She felt her Willpower crash into the lingering energies and, as it struggled, she squeezed harder, forcing it to give way. In a rush, the energy within the curse surged into her, and she sent it spiralling through her spiritual net, a golden glow enveloping both of them. Grendel’s gaze widened, and his claws stopped short of her skin.


    [Suppress Target [J] (22->25)


    Greater Mana Drain gained!


    Greater Mana Drain (1)


    Suppress Target [J] (25) merged into Greater Mana Drain (1) -> [B] (1)]


    That isn’t a Power I wanted to lose.


    Amdirlain hurriedly filled a crystal to keep the energy from breaking free of her spiritual net, yet more came.


    She ignored the continued improvement notifications as Greater Mana Drain inhaled Mana from the curse. Grendel struggled to pull away, but she pinned him in place with Far Hand and kept her attention on it.


    “Hold still, I’m dealing with your curse,” grumbled Amdirlain. A trickle of pressure from her Charisma stilled his struggles.


    When she let him go, Grendel shakily pushed off the wall, looking at her in confusion. “Is it gone?”


    “Not yet. What you felt was me taking the energy from the curse,” explained Amdirlain. “Reduced. I’ll see if I can undo it before it can replenish itself.”


    He twitched in confusion and then grunted acknowledgement.


    [Greater Mana Drain


    Details: The Power allows the possessor to pull Mana from enchantments of any kind or from individuals whose magic rating is less than their own.]


    Amdirlain made quick work of cutting the de-powered curse from his bloodline. Though the twisted pattern vanished from his Soul, his form was unaltered.


    When, at last, she was done, Grendel drew a shuddering breath and stood panting for a time before he lifted his gaze. “I owe you nothing but answers to your questions now?”


    “Not a single thing. If you don’t attack us, we’ll leave you be.”


    “For many winters, ugly creatures have hunted me from the deepest snows,” Grendel nodded to the north. “They’re unpleasant to eat, tasting of ash and rot. The traces of the great-scaled beasts have been fewer, and the lairs I knew about are now empty.”


    Something out there is killing dragons?


    From his mind, she caught the image of a hunched-over sexless creature with greenish skin, thick red veins highlighting its bulging muscles. Its spindly, narrow fingers were coated in spider-like bristles and tipped with dripping claws.


    What the fuck are those things?


    “Are they some kind of Fey?”


    “They’re not Fey.” snapped Grendel. Shifting about uncomfortably, he rubbed his hands across his stomach. “The beasts are something that doesn’t belong in these lands.”


    His hunger pains have changed and he doesn’t know what’s happening.


    “What direction do they come from?” asked Amdirlain gently.


    Grendel’s gaze flared wide, and memories of his mother’s soothing force in his youth rushed to the fore. Their clarity shocked him. He blinked in confusion and eyed her suspiciously.


    The tales talk of the sorrow of Grendel’s mother. It seems he’s also not a heartless monster. Did the rage from the curse filter his memories of her?


    “What did you do to me? Did you only break the curse?”


    “It was distorting your appetites and feeding your rage. Its absence won’t just impact what fills your stomach. With its thorns gone from you, adjusting to your new normal will take time.”


    “Like what?”


    “Just as the smell of rot masks other odours, the absence of your rage lets you feel other things. You could never sate your appetite, so your hunger will feel different. What direction did they come from?”


    His mouth opened in protest, only to click shut, and he stabbed a talon northwards. “Their trail led to the northern icepacks. There isn’t anything out there to eat, so I returned.”


    His thoughts showed slabs of ice grinding against a rocky beach, and the memory of the foul stench curdling his tongue and burning his nose.


    Do they originate somewhere in the Arctic Circle or just use it to connect to somewhere else?


    “They tasted of rot and ash? What else can you tell me of them?”


    Grendel described the creatures she’d gotten from his memory, but his recount detailed how their claws caused raised welts and agonising wounds. Vivid images and the stench of necrotic flesh gushing pus before his regenerative Power healed them gnawed at her from his mind.


    They’re like something from the Abyss.


    Amdirlain motioned around them. “Why did the Norse gods bring you to this realm?”


    “What do you mean?” grunted Grendel, confusion clear on his alien features.


    Maybe he was another reserve of belief from the centuries of tales being told using his name.


    “Surely you can tell the stars at night above don’t resemble the patterns you were born under,” said Amdirlain.


    He gave a sharp nod.


    “Though similar, this isn’t the world you were born in. What is the first thing you remember after Beowulf beheaded you?”


    Grendel’s upper lip curled. “I was aware even after his blade severed my neck.”


    “They knew you were still alive?”


    “I could still see and snapped at whoever tried to touch me. I lived on in agony; it was with me constantly. My head hung on the wall, and my throat plugged with a spike, so I couldn’t even moan, and my body wouldn’t regrow.”


    Anger churned in her gut as Amdirlain visualised his mounted head, glaring at anyone who came close. “Were you a test of their bravery?”


    “Oh yes,” Grendel growled, spittle frothing his mouth, and a well-spring of pain rushed forth.


    Does he still have a berserker’s rage? I need to snap him out of it.


    A Spell cracked the air, and his eyes narrowed at the black walls of energy that suddenly lined the path of the felled trees.


    “Don’t make me pulverise sense into you,” warned Amdirlain, and she crushed a felled trunk broader than Grendel’s head. “You agreed to answer my questions.”


    His shoulders heaved, and he shook his head back-and-forth, his whole body swaying in time to the motion. He seemed very much like a massive polar bear getting ready to charge. Slowly, his temper cooled, and he traced a paw along his throat.


    “I was on that wall so long. So many watched my suffering and smiled.”


    Don’t point out how many he terrified, killed, and ate.


    “Did any come near you?”


    A bark of humourless laughter split the air, an explosion of sound that knocked the snow from more trees.


    “Not willingly. Being bodiless didn’t stop me from trying to get a piece of them. Over the years, the jarls used to sit those they disliked beneath where I hung. Then they laughed when my dripping blood and drool splattered the target of their displeasure. Those nights were the only fun I had. Some of the more cowardly would nearly piss themselves.”


    “How long did this go on for?”


    “It seemed like centuries. It ended when the priests of the crucified god came. I got locked away in complete darkness as the devil’s work. Years went by, and my dripping wounds filled my lightless prison,” Grendel tongue brushed his upper lips, and his gaze darkened.


    That’s not malice, not justice. But what do you do with a foe you can’t kill and is one that would eat you if they were freed?


    Bad subject. Was he sealed up when they came here?


    “How did you get free?”


    Grendel looked at Amdirlain; his predatory instincts assessed the distance between them before he raked claws across the broken stone behind him. “There were roars and flames. An inferno that burned for so long that the blood and metal steamed away.”


    “How long did it go on?”


    “No idea, only that it destroyed everything until my head rested on roasting stones instead of wood and my brain baking in the flames. At some point, the building collapsed, and everything went still.”


    He licked his lips and shuddered, his gaze going to where Amdirlain’s Gate to the Elemental Plane of Fire had stood.


    “I woke up under rubble, with stones crushing my skull and the raw skin of my regrowing body, pushing debris out of the way. I’d no sooner clawed my way from the rubble than a giant scale-covered beast ate me, and I had to rip my way out of its guts.”


    A memory of a wagon-sized head covered in gleaming white scales provided an answer about the beast. It was a memory with an odd echo, and a few differing heads flickered through his mind.


    He got eaten by a White Dragon. Did it happen more than once, or is he unsure of its appearance? A witness’s lying eyes.


    “That sounds unpleasant,” said Amdirlain drily.


    “It bit me in half and swallowed me again, so I climbed up its throat and then tore my way out through its brains,” Grendel rumbled, his eyes gleaming with a remembered triumph of the kill. “You look Fey but don’t smell like one.”


    “Have you had much dealing with the fey?”


    “They mostly walk these lands when winter’s fist grips it tight,” Grendel hissed warily. “The creatures avoid them.”


    That sounds like the Winter Court.


    “If you keep clear of us, we’ll stay away from you.”


    Grendel hissed and waved at the shattered and incinerated trees. “I’m not dumb. I prefer being alone, and this is the most I’ve ever spoken to anyone but family.”


    “Are any of your family still in these lands?” asked Amdirlain.


    “I’ve seen no J?tnar in more winters than I can count,” rumbled Grendel. “How long are you going to be in my lands?”


    “A few years. We’ll stick to the coast and the valley we picked.”


    “Why did you want that information?”


    “Because I was curious, but now I want to hunt these green-skinned creatures that tried to kill you. You’ve paid your debt for my breaking the curse. Though I would appreciate being told if those creatures return.”


    Amdirlain teleported away.