Chapter Fourteen
The next morning she rose, gathered her barrack and proceeded to recount the events around the attacks. She left out only her connection to the journal and the session in which Macada’s mind had been destroyed. Their faces became sober and serious as she recounted it all. When she opened the floor for questions Sabir stepped forward first.
“It seems hard to predict the enemy’s moves. What’s the plan?”
“It is indeed, Lieutenant Sabir. Watches will be doubled from here out and we’ll be volunteering to help increase the watch at night. To keep you all rested, training will be minimal during this time and you are to catch up on rest during the day. I expect you all to stay alert during routine checks of the grounds. Take your nightly set up seriously by placing weapons in reach and be diligent about your shields. We’ve encountered psychic tactics already and I expect we’ll see more. In that case I, and thus you, will be prime resources and likely targets.”
“Be prepared to answer an immediate call to arms,” she continued. “With a denser guard we are more likely to be alerted in time to respond. I will be expected to offer surveillance similar to the trap used to brand the first traitor. As it has become evident there are multiple enemies I must make it a more permanent monitor. That will take me most of the day. Lieutenant Sabir, you are to structure the guard shifts in the meantime and send someone to find out about coordinating to assist the watch at night. Then review preparatory measures and drill a night alert.”
“Genji,” she addressed her third ranked officer, “be prepared to have your tracking abilities called on.”
Her barrack members bowed. She dismissed them and returned to her room to prepare to lay her trap.
The preparations were familiar and comfortable. When she’d first started training she’d adapted them from the standard rituals she’d been taught and had used them for almost any of work she did. As time had gone on and her skill had developed she’d had less need for them. She had progressed to the point that she could perform complex maneuvers in chaotic situations. When she had high-risk or difficult work that she needed to do though she would borrow strength, stability, and clarity from the preparation rituals.
First she renewed her perimeter, cleaning out any metaphorical cobwebs and strengthening the bond between the beeswax candles. Then she burnt sage to cleanse any lingering energies from the air and dressed herself simply in one of her loose, clean linen wraps. She removed all items from her work area except for her tools and she dusted. Finally she bolted the door, rubbed some of the ash from the sage onto her fingers to draw a focusing pattern on her chest and forehead. Then, she began.
The trap she created used the same mirror as before. The residual energy and resonance from the previous trap enhanced its ability to receive her energy and intent. This time the section of the labyrinth she drew would be larger and contain additional traps within. This trap would scan and capture memories and thoughts, but she could also use it to capture minds.
As she fed energy into the construct her mind entered the maze. She roamed the twists and turns, keeping track of where she was effortlessly. As she went she added enhancements: traps within the trap, illusions to befuddle, and bindings to slow down any attempt to thwart her ensnarement. At last she came to the exit. She went out then turned to face it. She began to draw up energy and fed it into a recreation of the wall she’d seen in Macada’s mind. She put her own signature on it as she built. Instead of the spikes she built in pressure bombs that targeted only the one attempting to dismantle it. Instead of the sickly green quality the other had possessed hers took on a flat black that would suck anything that touched it inside. She then created a version of the concealment she’d seen. Anyone looking for her exit would slide their eyes over it.
She set two triggers, one to scan for a combination of thoughts relating to the missing researcher, a surety of how he’d gone missing, and disloyalty to the force. If it located one it would scan the mind for the others and snap if it found all three. The second trigger she placed in her own mind. She would have to be near enough to the person to use it but the effect would be potent. She would be able to pull their conscious mind into her trap and hold it there.
She further stabilized the spells and tied her wall and concealment down to multiple roots--as opposed to the single root used in the original Ahriman had created. Hers would be harder to dismantle and more likely to harm the person attempting to. If she had found her new version in Macada’s mind she would have had a very bad night instead of just a rough one.
She came out of the maze and baited the trap. Then she connected the ends of the creation together so the energy would continue to loop through and self-maintain. When she finally roused herself, bringing her awareness back to her body and looking up, the view out of her window was dark and she was extremely sore.
She hoisted herself up and stumbled into the washroom. She turned on the tap and water rushed into the large tub. When Rezzi had been learning to control and concentrate his fire--rather than letting it out in his typical uncontrolled blaze--she’d had him work on infusing self maintaining heat into containers. He’d exploded quite a few cups but eventually he’d been able to create self-warming baths for the barracks. If he’d been a merchant rather than a soldier he could have made a fortune. Though, she reasoned, he probably would never have had the training to be able to do it in the first place without the force.
She dropped her wrap and stepped in, gratefully for the luxury. She grabbed a brush and began running it in circles over her skin. The increased circulation and hot water worked miracles for sore muscles that had been stuck in one position for hours.
From the other room she heard the door bang open.
“I bolted the damn door!” she yelled at the intruder. She’d started to identify Kenny’s presence off the bat.
“I must have pushed too hard.” He walked in and sat on the low stool by the tub.
“You’re lucky I was finished or I would have fried you,” she focused on ignoring him and scrubbing the ash off her skin.
“I felt you working. You’re loud. Been a buzz in my ear all day.”
“You must be sensitive.”
Kenny grinned, exposing canines, “Never been called that before.”
Despite herself Dahlia was quickly getting comfortable with his abrupt entrances and oddly familiar presence. He didn’t push her and she felt relaxed sniping back and forth with him. She should have kicked him out but she didn’t feel vulnerable and she didn’t sense anything but amusement coming from him.
“Want me to join you? I’ll get your back,” he offered innocently.
“I’d prefer you keep your pants on, thanks,” she told him dismissively.
“Arite.” In one quick motion he pulled off his rough shirt and dropped into the tub, still wearing his pants.
“Damn it, Kenny!” Water splashed out of the tub.
“It’s warm!” he sounded delighted.
“I should kick you out now,” she scooted back to the edge of the tub and held her brush between them.
“But now my pants are wet because of you. Least you can do is let me stay. Turn around, I’ll get your back.” He pulled her brush out of her hand.
Dahlia tried not to look at the water running down his bare chest. Some really stupid part of her mind whispered how interesting it would be to trace her fingertips down the trails the drops had left behind, see where that led her. She sighed and made what she knew was not the best decision. “Fine, only because I’m tired and debating with you is like talking to a wall. Keep your pants on.”
“Whatever makes you feel better.” He gave no indication of noticing her gaze flicker over his chest.
She turned around and he started working down her back in gentle circles. She leaned forward and relaxed.
“How’s it stay so warm?” he asked.
“I had Rezzi learn to control his firepower by infusing things like tubs with self-perpetuating heat.”
“Need to get me someone like that,” his voice rumbled in his chest, so close she could feel the vibrations.
“There were a lot of explosions before I let him work on my tub. It was like living with a pyromaniac in a house of combustibles.”
“Hmmmmm…” his gentle rumble was remarkably soothing. She felt herself relaxing in spite of the odd arrangement.
They stayed like that for a while, Kenny rubbing meandering patterns on her back, apparently content. Dahlia could feel herself nodding off. Strange, she mused, she’d found him so disconcerting before. Maybe it was how his mind resonated.
Most people had inner conflict, even if it was just over little, meaningless things like self-consciousness. Kenny projected none of that, his mind radiated complete comfort with who he was and what he was doing. She should find that scary since what he was was a brute who found meaning in fighting and dominating those who challenged him. But at least she knew where he stood. And who was she to throw rocks? She’d been born with the ability to invade minds and she’d used it. Her life’s work thus far had been to fight and lead a group of killers she cared for like family. She felt her mind circling and wandering as she inhaled the steam and let it go.
She found herself dozing against his chest when she came to. Since the water stayed hot she had no idea how long it’d been but the tips of her fingers had wrinkled. Kenny’s head had leaned back and from the vibration against her back she gathered he was snoring gently. She’d woken up in weird situations but this one might take the prize: bathing with a monster wearing sopping wet pants.
Her movement roused him and he watched appreciatively as she stepped out and dried off. She heard a shower of water as he stood up and a waterfall cascaded down. She ignored him and went to locate a tunic and shorts. He seated himself at the table and fiddled with a cup.
“You’re getting everything wet.”
“It’s your fault, you told me to keep my pants on.”
“I did not tell you to get in the tub.”
“It was implied.”
“Go away, I’m going to bed.”
“Want me to join you?”
“No!”
He flashed another broad grin, like she was a kitten hissing at a bear, then moved to the door, leaving an immense trail of water. When he’d left and closed the door she glared at it. The man had shoved her bolt straight out of the wall on his way in. What was wrong with him? Hell, she should be asking what was wrong with her!