Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods) (39 page)

I heard the statue call out. I instantly ran back to hear what it was he had to say. “I’ll give you what you need as long as you bring me my feed,” he said weakly. 

              “Fine by me. Where do I find your
food
?”

              He frowned slightly
,
which brought the sound of crunching metal echoing throughout the cavern. “Through that
hallway right over there, you’ll find the storage depot that has my food
.
It should be on the top shelf somewhere
” I grinned
rubbing my hands together eagerly.

              “No problem
,
” I claimed with confidence.
In retrospect I should have understood that when dealing with the Grimlars, just about everything they involve themselves with leads to problems. Crawling down the passage, I expected a small capacity with perfectly normal sized shelves holding perfectly normal things. As soon as I entered the vast domain however, any preconception I may have had about the area suddenly fell along with my spirit. With wide fear filled eyes,
I looked up at the
hive
of shelves before me. It was a single mass of disorganized junk as tall as the hundreds and hundreds of stairs I had walked so far and
even
larger
than the Etaporium
. A thick la
yer of pearly white ice coated the entire room which melted only at the very top shelf.

              All the things that the
Grimlar
s could ever want seemed to be in this one
‘
room.
’
Vast quantities of
swords, explosives, corrosives, firewood, medicines, food rations, targets, bricks, bottles,
and bulk potion ingredients were a few out of many of the goods stored on the massive shelves
.
However the most disturbing image of all was the two bottom shelves which were littered with nothing but barrels and barrels of frozen mage blood. Each container was just as tall as I, and almost five times as wide. Clearly the Grimlars would not be running out of this any time soon.

              I stood frozen there on the spot for quite some time, not even wondering what I should do but simply staring in awe at the task before me.
How on earth could anybody climb these shelves?
How would anybody get anything up on those dark dank top shelves all the way up? Anti-magic?
My hands began to tingle as doubt filled my mind. Was there anything I could distort to help in my assent? How far was it that I could distort without exhausting my powers? I had never distorted ice before, how would that affect the surroundings?
I decided
after a while
it was at least common sense to
look around before doing anything rash
, so I took my first step and slipped, dramatically falling to the icy floor with great force.
As I muffled a cry of pain I began to slide slowly down to the staircase that lead to the base shelf. Much to my distress,
t
he frosted staircase
had no guard rail to keep you from falling the six or seven metres it took to descend all the way down. Stumbling was no longer an option.

I slowly stood, carefully choosing which foot to put where, so as
to not upset my balance
. The right foot greeted the first step but the second I moved my left foot, I
felt my weight redistribute.
I quickly tried to turn around
but forgot
that
there was
sleet
everywhere
.
I landed
o
n my stomach and found myself gasping for air. Without even meaning to do it, my subconscious
distorted
the stairs into a slide for me, sending a quick jolt of warmth into my numb hands. I crashed into the wall that turned the staircase a sharp left, and continued sliding. Only the
tiniest
amount of pain registered through my numb body and in response, my dull wits made the slope even steeper. The wall ending the staircase not even
three
paces past the last step approached me a
t an alarming rate. There would be serious injury if I were to crash at the speed I was now advancing at.

             
I melted the wall greeting me into an upward slope with anti-magic,
before lazily
gliding back down to a
stop. I looked to my
arm
which seemed to be in the most pain, and
noticed
that there was a large stream of blood pouring from a gash in my
wrist
from where
I’d hit the wall
.
I propped myself up, gripping my arm while searching for anything I could lean against as the pain slowly ebbed away. The sight of the wound reminded me of Preston slightly. Only a day had gone by since I’d last seen him but it was arguably the most emotional day that separated us. While shuffling through the rows and rows of containers, I finally noticed an old rusty ladder that seemed to be the only direct path upward. I grabbed the highest rung I could reach, and flinched as the cold of the iron bars sent waves of freezing pain to the tips of my fingers. I brought myself up the next bar without thought, and as quickly as I could manage through my weariness, began to climb.

              When one finds themselves physically exhausted, it’s usually quite easy to pinpoint exactly which body part you want to rest: The legs, the arms, the chest and so on and so forth. When it comes to anti-magical weariness however it’s a much more detached sort of pain. You know that you’re tired, but you can't say why or where. The body loses itself almost and emotions grow along with the insignificant scenes one might mostly overlook normally. A warlock will feel tedious amounts of anger and despair through use of their anti-magic. Hunger claws us like a feral beast, before beginning to gnaw away the senses in all of our limbs.

I looked
up and was
somewhat
surprised to see the ladder come to an end. I hadn’t even climbed four floors yet. What was going on?
I
gently got off of the ladder
a
nd attempted
to move my sickeningly purple frost covered fingers. They didn
’t so much as jiggle.
I tried my best to worm my hand underneath my armor
and press them to
my sweaty chest to warm them up
however as soon as my digits made contact,
I yelped in pain and immediately jerked my hands back. It was like
I was
stroking a particularly hot piece of metal much less a moderately cold frail body.

S
lowly, I crept them back to my underarms
relieved to notice that
the heat
was just
a little more bearable. I let them
rest
there for just a bit longer before withdrawing
,
maneuvering and flexi
ng. I strolled around the absurd number of crates, and shortly, found a second ladder leading up. Closing each finger in turn, I forced myself up, now contemplating the sudden amount of height I was gaining.

I felt my entire innards squeeze together as my grip slipped on the fifth shelf. It was alarm alone that forced my grip tighter despite the empty lack of feeling in my hands begging for mercy. Once on the ninth floor I fell to my knees, quivering at the thought of how much more there was to go. My upper body hurt enough as it was. I began to look for the same iron bar ladders from before, however the only thing present was a small rope ladder without anything to prop up against for support.
I placed my f
oot on the poorly made rope structure and gave a small
whimper as it
shivered under my weight
. I
pushed off my right foot with too much force and began to swing slowly to the front and back.
While maintaining the little upper body strength I had, I wrapped my arm around the ladder to look around in desperation. One false move, or one moment when I became too tired to carry
on any longer was all it would take before I plummeted to my doom.

I tried to advance even higher, but the tug of tough fibers
prevented me from doing so
. My leg was stuck. “Oh
no, not now,
” I whined, trying to shake my
self
loose. Somehow, my
ankle
had gotten caught onto a rope rung, then twisted, fo
rming
a very strange knot that didn't seem to let me go up nor down to fix the
tangle of the ropes
. My arms holding me to my life
begged me to stop,
claiming that
when I fell
the rope would hold me in place upside-down. I almost believed
it
too. I noticed in my panic that
t
here was a rusty piece of flaky metal not far to my right. If I could maneuver myself toward it, I could cut the rope and continue to climb.
Moving gently at first, I began to swing
so as not to put
too
much strain on the one arm holding onto the rope. The other arm was outstretched, ready to grab the pipe like piece of metal protruding from the ice.
The crack the fibers straining under my weight was not at all a reassuring thing to hear while I swang closer and closer to my target. Using the last of remaining strength, I gave one last push, and I finally made contact with the pipe. The only
problem
was, It was the injured arm holding
onto
the rope that made the contact.

              I screamed in
agony
as my arm flew up into the air. Instant relief, followed with a swooping sensation told me immediately I had done the worst possible thing.
Freezing air flew past each ear and screamed in my place. The apple of my throat nearly fell out as suddenly I was caught in midair by the knot around my leg. I coughed and violently tried to distinguish icy air from the phlegm in my throat. Blood rushing to my face blurred my vision as my head began to gradually inflate. I tried weakly to grab hold of the rope, while the opposing forces of emotion and fatigue screamed demands louder than Umber had ever spoken.

I ignored them, biting back powerful tears.
Exhaustion was winning the battle
, for
I could barely even lift my own head much less my own body.
The thick tendril swallowing my leg tightened like a savage jaw biting down and cutting off all circulation. The sights I saw began to fade as tiny snowflake like things
flood
ed
my head with a
n
unpleasant weariness. I was slipping away. Both figuratively and mentally.
But
t
hrough the edge of my vision, I began to see a faint yellow the color of honeysuckle, and possibly even hope. I felt my muscles move
as if in an unconscious spasm
, lifting themselves and my
body
up the ladder
.
My body was flopped on to the final shelf, And suddenly everything dispersed. For a brief moment it felt as though there was a humanoid creature standing over me. however flipping around I could see it was only the disembodied eyes of Umber.

              “You...” I rasped
, trying to understand what just happened.

Umber didn’t seem to hear me. He had his eyes half closed in pure exhaustion.

              “You... Took over my body.”

Umber let out with a small gasp but still said nothing.

I licked my pale icy lips to warm them a bit.
My breathing slowed. “How?” I asked eventually, trying not to feel disturbed by this.

Umber shuddered slightly and faded in and out of my vision with each breath I took. “I’ve always had some control,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “Much like you find difficulty in using anti-magic I find difficulty in operating your own body.” He dropped his gaze. “Being dead, you find that it’s quite difficult to move. That didn’t stop me from trying.”

              “You mean to tell me that you’ve been trying to get me to move to your own will?” I asked, completely mortified by this statement.

Umber chuckled weakly, not at all helping my distress.

              “Not big movements. Nothing like what we just saw there. I would spend sleepless nights trying to get you to move a finger or even a toe.” Sometimes I succeeded, sometimes not. You don’t have to fear mortal, this is not simply something I can do on a regular basis.” I nodded uncertainly and laced my fingers together.