Chapter 50

  The night before the hydra hunt

  After Dalex disappeared into thin air to return to his hunting expedition, it took Hitasa an hour to figure out how to deal with the pale blue chair he left behind for her. She had seen him use his special clouds of metal flakes to make weapons and other useful items, but that hadn’t given her the faintest idea of how it worked. She knew the chair was supposed to dissolve and follow her around like Dalex’s charm of protection, but how to make it do that?

  Eventually, she just picked up the chair and started carrying it back to Dava’s house, but it was surprisingly heavy. When she was halfway there, it became too cumbersome, and she found an out-of-the-way spot to set it down until she could ask Dalex what to do with it. As soon as she walked away from it, it dissolved on its own and came swimming through the air to orbit over her head with Dalex’s ring of protection.

  The same breezy voice she remembered from when the charm shot Castreier and killed the Wolf Brigade soldier, announced, “All-purpose gel accepted. Would you like to activate first time user mode?”

  Hitasa paused in the middle of the street, listening and then thinking. “Yes.”

  “First time user mode active. When you are ready, please say, ‘Begin tutorial.’”

  It seemed like it would wait for her, and anyway, she didn’t know what she wanted to do with it yet, so she continued back to Dava’s house and prepared to turn in for the night. Ideas for what to do about Metsa and the resistance were rolling around inside her head, but she knew she was too tired to do anything about them. They would be Tomorrow Hitasa’s problem.

  Dava was still awake when she arrived. He offered Hitasa his bed again while he slept in the den, but she declined, recognizing now that she had imposed on him far too much already. Instead, she borrowed one of his hunting bedrolls and curled up in a corner. Thankfully, her beastkin host didn’t ask her what had happened with Metsa’s meeting.

  Hitasa fell asleep almost immediately and didn’t wake up until the sun was well on its journey toward afternoon.

  ***

  Oddly enough, the first thing that came to mind when she woke up was not her brewing plan of action, but the way Dalex had leaned toward her the night before when he asked her that all important question. What do you want to do?

  She remembered those intimidating, yet soft red eyes, encouraging her to speak her mind. The closeness of his fingers on the arm rests. His easy breathing as he waited for an answer. That confident knowing smile on his lips.

  Afterward, when he was walking away, he had said he admired her. When he leaned in so close to her, had that really been an act of simple admiration?

  Hitasa shivered and stood up out of her bedroll. Luckily, Dava wasn’t around to see her blush. She couldn’t be thinking of a human that way, and there was work to be done.

  She grabbed the bread and cheese Dava had set out for her breakfast and walked out into the street. In the event Dalex’s gifts did something she wasn’t expecting, she didn’t want to destroy her host’s home. Luckily, Dava didn’t live on a busy street, so she was alone for the moment, trying to recall all of the things Dalex had done with this “all-purpose gel.”

  “Begin tutorial,” she announced.

  The voice emanating from the charm of protection walked her through the basic functions of what Dalex had given her. It instructed her on how to form simple shapes and then complex items with functions and specific parameters. The process was surprisingly easy. The charm of protection seemed to know what she already understood and where she was likely to be confused and was prepared with clear explanations that helped her catch up quickly. It even had a voice like a teacher, patient and empathetic.

  “What are you?” she asked in the middle of the tutorial.

  “I am a personal defense drone.”

  Hitasa didn’t really know what that meant beyond what she already understood, that the main purpose of the ring was to protect her. She asked her follow up question anyway, “Are you alive?”

  “No, I am not alive,” the ring said, its voice cheery. “Any appearance of sentience, sapience, or learning intelligence is merely a product of complex programming.” Its tone became more teacher-like again. “In other words, I was made to be helpful and easy to use and therefore can easily trick those who are unfamiliar with my nature into believing I am alive.”

  Despite a logical explanation, the ring’s attitude and general aura didn’t convince Hitasa it was telling the truth. She decided she would name the charm of protection Ring and shelve the matter for another time.

  Remembering something Dalex had showed her once before, Hitasa asked, “Can you show me a map of the city?”

  A top down view of Batulan-bar and the surrounding area appeared in the air in front of her. She studied it for a long time before she realized she was just admiring the unique view of the world it gave her and not looking for what she needed. The map was mostly just a realistic representation of the city, but it was also occasionally labeled with descriptive text, including a mark for the hunters’ lodge, the Cantering Colt inn, Dava’s house, and the spot at the river docks where Hitasa and Dalex had met Dava’s hunting party to board the Welcome Waters.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “What other information can this map show?” Hitasa asked.

  “My database is up to date as of the last system refresh thirteen seconds ago,” Ring said. “What information would you like to see?”

  “What stops did Dalex make the other day when he visited all the human lords in the city?”

  “I can show you Operator Dalex’s path from that event,” Ring said, “but would you like to see the locations of each human residence?”

  Again, Hitasa questioned if the charm of protection was really as unintelligent as it claimed. “Yes.”

  A host of names appeared all over the map, most of them next to country manors near the outskirts of Batulan-bar. Humans never liked living too close to the elves and beastkin with whom they shared their cities. A bunch of other information popped up along with the names. Estimated net worth, staff sizes and slave counts pre and post Dalex’s intervention, and levels of estimated hostility. A few of the names came with warnings indicating that a particular lord had tried to harm Dalex.

  High Lord Michel’s name was most prominent on the map. He had hoarded the most wealth, employed the most servants, and owned the most slaves.

  It was exactly what Hitasa needed. She ran back inside Dava’s home to retrieve a pen and a single manifesto flier, stuck them in a pocket, and then returned to the street.

  “What about flight?” she asked. “Can you and the gel make me fly like Dalex does?”

  “The exact method of flight used by Operator Dalex is not possible with your current configuration, but the all-purpose gel is capable of aerial maneuvering.”

  Hitasa had noted that the gel didn’t seem tethered to Gaia Eta like normal matter. When it solidified into an object, it generally dropped inert to the ground like any other object, but before then it would float and weave through the air like a swarming flock of birds.

  In the end, getting the gel to do what she wanted wasn’t much different than defining a word of power. Hitasa had never successfully publicized a word of power—the three elven words of ancient power she could use had been handed down to her from her mother—but she had quite a lot of practice coming up with ideas she thought would work.

  “Create a flying machine with handholds to support my weight.”

  The all-purpose gel flowed away from its hiding spot above Ring and formed into a hovering contraption with a flat top and four horizontal bars that hung down from its bottom. It floated before her, several feet off the ground.

  “And will it support my weight?” Hitasa asked.

  “This arrangement of all-purpose gel can support up to three-hundred kilograms, or one-hundred stone by recognized Gaia Etan measurements, while still maintaining full aerial mobility. Given observations of elven physiology and my own measurements of the subject, your weight is well within operational thresholds.”

  “So, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  Hitasa grabbed hold of two of the handholds and said, “Good enough. Take me to High Lord Michel’s residence.”

  ***

  The flying gel platform carried her over Batulan-bar at about a hundred feet off the ground. At first, Hitasa was nervous, but elves were strong and her grip was firm. She also never reached a height that was truly dangerous. The gel flying machine moved quickly enough that they would reach Hitasa’s destination well before her strength gave out, but not so quickly that she felt overly buffeted by the wind or strained to hold on to the bars.

  It wasn’t anything like when Dalex carried her through the air, flying faster than any bird at altitudes that would mean certain death if she was dropped. True, he always kept a firm and gentle hold on her in those moments, but soaring through the sky in his arms was nerve-wracking, nonetheless.

  In just ten minutes, the gel brought her to Michel’s estate and set her down just outside his enormous mansion. Hitasa relaxed her arms but found that they weren’t really tired at all. She could probably traverse the city with the gel for an hour or two before she needed to take a break. The flying machine dissolved into a cloud that hid itself above Ring again.

  No one was outside the mansion. A train of wagons and open carts sat unattended in front of the building. Expensive-looking goods littered the ground around the train; only some of the cargo was loaded in the wagons. Fruits and vegetables were beginning to rot, and a few ornate sculptures were developing a fine coat of dirt.

  Hitasa opened the front door of the mansion and walked inside. She found herself in a vast and quiet foyer. A staircase led upstairs and doors to her left and right led to a dining room and the rest of the mansion.

  She started toward the dining room when a voice from the top of the stairs asked, “Who are you?”

  She looked up to see Michel himself sitting on the top step, his hair unkempt, his clothes disheveled, with a bottle of brown liquor on the step next to him. He sat there motionless, slouching and staring at her.

  “Oh, an elf,” he said, finally recognizing her ears. “Were you one of mine?”

  Hitasa walked to the bottom step. “I am Hitasa, a friend of Dalex of the Expedition Seven.”

  He sat up a little straighter but then fell back into his slouch. After a little more time to study her, he said, “Yes, I recognize you. You were with him at the lodge. What do you want, more of my fortune?”

  “Dalex recorded that you still had ten elves and beastkin in your employ. Is that still true?”

  “Two more decided to quit,” he said. “I’ll probably have to let the other eight go soon enough.”

  “And your wife, is she here?”

  “She won’t talk to me.”

  “Is she here?” Hitasa demanded.

  Michel’s eyes hardened, some of that old human dignity fluttering to the surface. “How dare you speak to me like that?” He got to his feet. “No common she-elf slave is going to make demands of me, no matter who you call friend.”

  “Create Dalex’s favorite cannon,” Hitasa said.

  The all-purpose gel coalesced into a sleek blue firearm. It dropped into Hitasa’s hands, slightly smaller than she expected. Dalex had talked about this weapon before, but she had never seen it. She pointed the muzzle at Michel, trying to appear confident that she knew how it worked and what it would do.

  His eyes went wide. “You can do it, too?” He took a step back, waving a hand at her. “Put that away, please, there is no need for— I am—” He took a deep breath. “I apologize for my outburst.”

  “That’s better,” Hitasa said. She didn’t command the weapon to dissolve, but she lowered it to keep by her side.

  “Please, why are you here?” Michel asked. “I just want to be left alone.”

  Hitasa produced the pen and flier she had grabbed before departing Dava’s home. She turned the flier over to its empty back and scribbled something down.

  Her own people wouldn’t listen to her. They were too entrenched in their fears and too worried that someone would come for them. But in Michel and the men and women like him, Hitasa had something of a captive audience. She knew they feared Dalex, and she could use that to her advantage.

  Her scribbling done, Hitasa marched up the stairs toward Michel. “I want you to read something for me. After that, you’ll ask everyone in your household to do the same.”

  She reached the top step and stood in front of him, holding out the flier with its back toward him.

  It read: “Hitasa of the Perhethion, kirtevas writes my script across the sky.”

  https://www.patreon.com/wjeffersonsmith