Going Feet First Ch. 05

"Anything."

Necela's eyes flashed, and Galen saw in his own mind the image of one of the necklaces the Slavemaster wore, a tarnished silver disc encircled by a ring of black gems. "The pendant he wears, made of cursed dark silver and enchanted kornan stone. I need you to destroy it anyway you can."

"That's the thing that stops magic," the Private commented as he gazed at the mental image.

"Yes. This is the pendant that has caused me so much grief. It is what stops my magic from being properly wielded against him. If you destroy it, he will be defenseless against me."

With a solid nod, Galen replied, "Yes, ma'am."

A chuckle escaped the Goddess, "You needn't use that word, my soldier."

Red started to tint Galen's cheeks again, "Sorry, force of habit from being a soldier, ma'am- Necela."

"It is quite alright. It's not a bad habit, to show respect as you do. It means you are a good person. Something the underworld here sadly lacks."

"Not completely," he objected. "I think Dreek and the girls that follow her around are alright. To me at least. I don't get the problem they have with you."

"Well, you seem to make friends easily, Galen, a talent wielded by so few of the others that had come before you."

Right away both of Galen's eyebrows rose, then came right back down as a puzzled look came over him. "Others?"

Before the Private could get another word out, Necela leaned forward a planted her lips on his cheek, silver dust sparkling down from her eye lashes as a dim glow pulsed in her face. In an instant, Galen's eyes slipped shut and he fell over onto his side. Fast asleep.

The Deity drew back, observing him as he settled so peacefully.

With the snap of her fingers, he vanished and appeared in his bed, lying down with his boots, clothes, and gear missing from his body. Snapping her fingers again, his equipment appeared beside his bed, neatly cleaned and seemingly scrubbed free of the dirt and grime that had built up during his time on her world.

Still bearing a gentle smile, Necela approached Galen's bed and pulled his blanket over him, planting a soft kiss upon his forehead.

"Excuse my slip of the tongue. You needn't worry yourself with the others now, not when I need you. You need only to have a good night, my soldier."

After rubbing her fingers together to sprinkle more of her sparkling dust over his face, she finally turned for the door. "Sweet dreams."

..............

Nervous trembles racked Galen's left hand. He clenched his fist and stretched his fingers out trying to quell it, but it would not stop shaking. Purple light off the lift illuminated the area around him as he rode it up toward the wizard's overlook. He could feel the tension around Dreek standing in front of him on the platform, despite how well the Commandant hid it; he could tell something bothered her ever since they had left the Sun-kissed compound.

She had not done up the sash across her waist properly, requiring her to occasionally tighten the knot at her hip. Her fist constantly clenched at the sides of her white long-coat anytime she even glanced in Necela's direction. For a top leader of an elite force of the Drow empire, Galen expected her to show more control over her emotions. Especially when she wore what he thought to be her dress uniform out in the public eye and in front of one of her aids.

A dim light pulsed for a moment, drawing Galen's attention to Necela on his right. The aura around the ashen skin of the Goddess was giving off her signature light blue color to add an easy feeling to her visible indifference. Whatever sparked the tension from Dreek seemed to be limited to the Commandant only, as Keetle, standing to his left, seemed a bit puzzled herself over her stress.

Tempted as he was to inquire about what had fouled the Commandant's mood, he kept his mouth shut and waited. She had already appeared troubled over the plans set in place for him here at the Overlook and the magical "improvements" she planned to give him. And that same feeling passed onto him when the Commandant became vague in her description of the operation he was to undergo. And how she had ordered him to leave his equipment at the compound immediately afterward.

With nothing but the clothes on his back, his canteen in his coat pocket, and the warning that his endurance was going to be pushed beyond what he knew possible, he couldn't fight the tremble in his hand. He couldn't fight the chills up his back. He was defenseless as he faced a situation that was going to push him "beyond what his physical limitations could handle alone."

If Necela wasn't at his side or had Dreek not said she would have him see the surface again, he knew he would never accept whatever lay ahead.

The lift came to the platform at the top of the shaft and at the first step Dreek took, her hardened-leather boot came down with an echoing clap with several proceeding stomps. Galen shivered as concern almost had him asking what bothered her so much. How she could lose control and make such a racket, and then carry on afterward without even acknowledging this break in her norm.

What is wrong with her? he wondered while falling in behind her brisk pace.

The group had to move quickly down the hall to keep up with Dreek. The Commandant's magic flared for a moment, sending a pulse through the air that made Galen's hand twitch. By the time they reached the Outlook's entryway, the mage that tended the doors already had them opening.

Through the darkness Galen could feel the eyes of the guards protecting this entrance come upon him. He didn't need empathy to sense their anger, and he didn't need to be a detective to know why. Though he did need to bite down on his tongue as he knew an apology would be meaningless to any of the woman who likely wished nothing more than to kill him on the spot.

In all probabilities, they would have hacked him to death were it not for the presence of the Commandant.

"I am curious why they feel so much hate for you, Galen," Necela muttered as they entered the decorative entry hall of the Overlook.

"For being human," he answered when the doors closed behind them.

Had the Private been looking Necela's way when he had said that, she would have read his thoughts for the details while they were active in his conscious. For now she would have to ignore that curiosity as Dreek led them deeper into her city's magic center. They entered a hallway at the far end of that first hall and followed it to a central well lit only by the glow of the cyan metal plating the bottom of the lifts.

The well, a cleanly shaped hole sixty to seventy feet across, was wound with several stairwells around the circumference that served as the main artery for wizards ascending or descending the Overlook. Four floating stone plates several feet across transported groups of Drow up and down the levels, moving from the top floor to the bottom with such efficiency that even Necela appeared impressed.

When Dreek led her group to a platform, one of the lifts immediately came to them, by-passing several groups of wizards who Galen knew had been waiting before they had even entered the room. Disturbed as he was about jumping the line for the lift, he had to remember it was a Commandant he was with, and the matriarchy of Drow society put her ahead of them by default.

The group stepped onto the lift and Galen's feet buzzed with magic just as it began to move. Trying to lift his foot made a force jerk down on his leg to keep him locked in place as they descended. With his eyebrows raised, he glanced to Necela to see the disguised goddess easily shifting her feet despite the power of the magic holding her down. Witnessing this brought a light, purple color to Dreek's knuckles as she clenched her hand around the hilt of her blade, making Galen all the more nervous in an increasingly nerve-racking environment.

Many of the Overlook's inhabitants, of which only a handful were female, stared in wonder at his presence and the women he accompanied. For them to see a male, a human one at that, walk freely, if somewhat shaky, alongside such an influential power had to be as surprising to them as it was confusing. But with each gaze that came to Galen, Dreek would send her glare in return, which proved enough to have the wizard immediately look to the floor or go scurrying off to continue on with whatever task he had.

At least she's still looking out for me...

Three floors up from the bottom, Galen's lift came to a stop. Unable to turn to face it, the Private had to twist his body to see an alcove in the wall which bore nothing to identify it with other than the metal doors at the back.

The magic holding Dreek's feet down released and she stepped off the lift on a path headed straight for those doors. Keetle rushed to keep pace and raised her hand to shake the gateway ahead of her Commandant. When Galen and Necela walked on after the two Drow, the doors had rattled with a heavy "clank" and rocked back and forth before opening inward.

As the metal barriers parted, the Headmaster of the Overlook stepped forth from the darkened room ahead, his eyes immediately shifting to the disguised Necela standing at Galen's side. Behind the fire wizard were five other Drow in black robes with light-blue shawls pulled over their shoulders, their red eyes narrowing under their hoods as they whispered amongst each other. A sudden chill raced up Galen's spine when one of the women said something in Drow with a sneer aimed at him. His left arm then pulsed and he immediately glanced to his hand, seeing it glow a light blue as opposed to its usual white.

Confused, he looked to Necela to see her eyes unsteadily hold their normal glow as a fire red was barely being held in check within their centers.

Shifting his focus away from the Deity, the Headmaster turned to Dreek and addressed her in a respectful tone and bowed his head as he passed what sounded to be kind words. Yet the Commandant marched right past him giving only a short, annoyed response that made her fouled mood audible as she approached the females at his back.

Without warning, the Commandant backhanded one of the robed Drow, making her stumble as she hissed several threats in her tongue before looking to her own group. She motioned with her head for them to follow, and then continued on into the darkened room beyond the doors.

Blinking with wide eyes, the Private stared at the Drow who became the target of Dreek's anger and let his mouth gape a bit. The woman stood tenderly touching the side of her face while her sisters stood, frozen with shock. Underneath her eye, her coal-black skin began to take on a wine-red tint and even show the first signs of swelling. Keetle sidestepped her and her group, shaking her head with disappointment before dashing to keep up with her leader.

"Now, Galen," Dreek's hissed as she passed through the doors into the area beyond.

Breaking from his own surprised stupor, he snapped his gaze to the Commandant and responded, "Yes, Ma'am."

"Tell her I will be along shortly," the Headmaster muttered as the Private broke into a jog to catch up.

Caught off guard by actually being spoken to by someone other than a Sun-kissed, Galen slowed his pace as he realized the wizard was speaking to him.

"Will do," was his response as he stared at the Headmaster a moment before refocusing on catching up to Dreek.

When Necela leisurely followed in his tracks, casting her own demeaning glare to the robed Drow that had been struck, the Headmaster grabbed her by the arm and stopped her in place. Their eyes locked then, and the old wizard could feel her power instantly burning at his skin. All the strength hidden beneath the Drow mask Necela wore began to show itself in pieces, small enough to hide what she was, but not so small as to hide her ability to handle a threat.

This taste of power, despite the Headmaster's experience and own strength with magic, proved intimidating and unnerving. He could sense more of it within her and what she fed him was just a piece of her potential. Still, he held fast and kept his hand clenched tightly around her bicep without any intent to let go.

"What are you?" he hissed.

Bearing an annoyed look with red light swelling within the blue glow of her eyes, she growled, "Remove your hand, Headmaster."

"Not unless I know what wanders the halls of my temple, creature."

Necela continued to unleash a glare that hacked at the Headmaster's soul like a wicked scythe. His eyes narrowed and he cringed, but his grasp held until Necela at last whispered, "I am a guardian spirit, Headmaster. The human: my charge. Now again, remove your hand."

The wizard pursed his lips as his inquisitive gaze narrowed on her unnatural eyes. "A spirit guiding a human?... Are you the cause of the fouled mood of the Commandant?"

As the question left the Headmaster's mouth, Necela pulsed with a wave arcane that shook him to the core, making him take a breath into his lungs that had his whole body shifting in her presence. Several wrinkles on his face, formed like dunes on the sands of time, were erased from his skin. Aches in his muscles or joints that plagued him under the strain of the day-to-day faded away as though his body was aging in reverse. In an instant, what felt to be century's worth or aging had been undone from his flesh.

Behind him, the Drow that had been watching the tense exchange stumbled with the passing of that arcane wave. No obvious effect surfaced among them at first, but after only a few counts the one that had been slapped blinked in amazement as the her cheek stopped aching, her sister beside her telling her how her cheek had reverted back to a normal color.

Taking a bit of pride from the wonder on the Drows' faces, and withholding a smile, Necela answered the Headmaster's question, "Your Commandant recognizes her inability to gain an advantage over me, and she is releasing her anger over an incident that occurred last night. Now release my arm, so these witches of yours and I may tend to my human."

The old fire wizard gave no more protest as he let go of Necela's arm and turned for the door, walking alongside her while tenderly probing his face with his hand. While his obsidian skin did not feel as smooth or firm as it had in the centuries prior to the end of his second millennia, it had lost some of the dry texture in the lines that the years had drawn over his face.

He could only wonder now what the extents of the spirit's powers were, if she was capable of removing years from his body without so much as a blink of her glowing-blue eyes.

................

"That chair is where you will sit, Galen," Dreek explained as she cleared the small tunnel that led to the empowerment chamber.

The entryway being only as high as his waist, Galen had to crawl through behind Keetle to reach the octagonal room where the Commandant had brought him. When her aid reached the room and stood up, she raised her hand and focused on the presence at her heels. Empowered by an excess of magic coursing through her body in this place, she didn't need to face or physically direct her magic, only flick her wrist once it grabbed hold of Galen.

"Whoa!" he cried as a sudden jerk yanked him into the chamber. When his body hit the floor, he felt a flare of magic course through his chest and flood into every muscle in his body. The vine tattoo that wrapped around his left arm, and even the arm itself, had lit up in a magnificent green and white glow from his palm to his heart. And it was spreading.

"What is this stuff?" he asked as he pushed off from the floor and stood up, staring at his hand as the glow in his skin had died off the second it lost contact with the metal.

"Tanneran," Dreek answered as Keetle took to her side. "It is what forms the pillar in the center of the city. And is the purist conductor of mana we've ever found. It is solid magic."

"Tanneran..." he repeated, looking about the room.

In the center of the floor was a metal throne embedded with fanciful tanneran inlays which spread to the floor. Each of the eight walls, as well as the floor and ceiling, were all plated in the metal and surging with the energy of the arcane. It was unlike what he felt in the Overlook or any other place in the city, where the magic bleeding off the walls felt like holding the two leads coming off a battery. The magic around him here felt just as Dreek described it: pure. As though it had come naturally from his own body.

"How did this metal come to bear this name?"

Galen turned as Necela slipped through the short door and stood up beside him. The tanneran floor around her feet began to pulse with a more intense glow when she stepped on it. Streams of energy became currents flowing through the plating that now shimmered like water. It was as though the metal came alive in her presence.

Despite being momentarily side-tracked by the light show that danced around the room, Dreek looked straight to Necela as she answered, "Dwarves and Humans held rule over Faerssune before us and the metal's name is theirs. Where they thought of it is of no concern. The only important question here is where are the sisters from the Faerdron?"

"Here," a voice called out.

Necela stepped aside from the chamber's entrance to allow the new arrivals to enter. One after another a line of Drow crawled through the door and took to a corner of the room, each one carrying with them a crystal the size of a skull. When the last Drow, the ninth by Galen's count, had entered the room, the door was shut behind her.

Whoever had crafted this space had done well by Galen. When the door shut, each of the four seams vanished, leaving the appearance of a smooth, solid wall.

"Have you brought what I requested?" Dreek probed.

"Yes, Commandant. Here."

The Faerdron mage pulled a mask from her robe, the very same used on the Sun-Kissed leader in her enhancement ritual. With it the mage also produced a weave of chainmail, fashioned from tanneran and decorated with several crystals.

"What have you brought for my pet?" Dreek asked, catching the dirty look Necela cast at her.

"We were unable to rightly produce a Darkvision spell weaver on such short notice, Commandant. But we found an... experiment of sorts the dead-eared wizard was working on before he was culled."

"Your mouth moves but all I hear is the sound of time wasting," Dreek hissed.

"The mask's enchantment will help the surfacer see without light, but it is not clear what the exact effect is. However the pixane is blessed with a Sarnorrahi enchantment."

"Now that is pleasing to hear. Begin the ritual preparations."

At once the eight mages in the corners of the octagonal room whispered to the gems they held. Arcane energy began to drain from the air around them into the crystals. Sensing this, Dreek held her hand out to the mage before her. "Give me the mask and pixane and I will prepare the surfacer. Do note that this time will be different, as both myself and the spirit will be beside him and using our own power to ensure his survival."

"Speaking of whom, who is she?" the Faerdron mage wondered as she passed the items to the Commandant.

"None of your interest, youngling," Necela interrupted. "We have a ritual to perform, so let's see it done."

"Agreed," Dreek muttered as she turned to Galen. "Take your seat. We're starting the ritual."

"Is the magic draining in here?" he asked while sitting on the throne.

The glow in his arm began to flicker and lose its strength as the magic that normally always pulsed in his core now felt as though it had begun to drain from his spine into the steel upon which he sat. He looked to Necela, but the goddess didn't show any worry. All she did was give him a subtle, assuring nod.