Framework of the Frontier, Sain Artwell [read me a book .TXT] 📗

“So…” Orien sat high up on Trotto’s piggyback. “What do you think? Wanna try a quick dip in the mysterious white stuff?” She asked Eren and Veren, who crouched on the circular lintel running atop the temple pillars, which circled the entrance.

“I advise against it,” Rulu spoke before they could, raising her head from a quick dip into the mist. “In R’lyeh, in a place called the Dream’s Cradle, lies a sacred vent similar to this where the Queen lays her eggs. This spillage you see here is the outer emptiness of the Dreaming given physical form by merging with the fabric of the material sphere. It is to oneroi what silt is to rock. Let us leave. Though there are powers to be learned from this stream, they are not without great risk.”

“Ohohoo?” Orien grinned. “We could sell tickets for a bath if this place wasn’t so deep in Gaia’s anus.”

Trotto returned her a low grumbling chuckle. “We could make the hike here part of the experience and charge extra.”

“Can we use it?” William asked Rulu.

The immediate denial in Rulu’s gaze, curbed his excitement. “No. We were but spawnlings and our souls had yet to learn to separate the dreams from reality. What forged our connection to the Dreaming could bring irrecoverable madness to an ordinary mortal…” An idea flashed through her eyes as they flicked over William. “While you might survive, I cannot fathom what you would discover. And besides, there are dangers in the Dreaming, daevas, demons, spirits, and cursed memories prey on the dreams and souls of unwary mortals.”

William looked at the white mist. Kinda like hopping off the cliff, jumping there was a bad idea. Similarly as on tall cliffs, an inexplicable urge to hop dared him on.

Ember shifted on his shoulders. “We shouldn’t risk it, if that is indeed a crack between reality and the astral. Those places are spawning pools for monsters.“

”Oh-kay, given this counsel, I’m going to make the call to move us onwards to the safe-spot,” Orien declared, kicking her heels on Trotto’s plate to spur him into a lazy forward trundle.

They made camp atop a spire-structure standing some hundred feet towards the center of the dungeon-room.

Duhie took care of setting up magical alarms on the smaller windows and entrances, while the rest of them either cooked or hauled pieces of a caved in roof to barricade the place.

Weariness of the day hit William, when he sat down with a bowl of spicy shelled badger soup by Raneign and Ember. A campfire of wood and bones crackled pleasantly, casting a flicker of fiery warmth over the dull white, which shrouded the dungeon. Wrestling his gaze from the fire, William looked outside. Mist had risen to drown all but the tallest buildings and bridges, giving the already reason defying city an ephemeral appearance.

He wondered if Ember had answers to what had happened here, if she knew who had dwelt here, and why the place was the way it was. This place was linked to the realms’ creation and seemingly a source of life spawning pools of dreamy mist. It was beautiful, mysterious, and dangerous — everything that would give a local history nerd a raging archeology boner. It seemed to be everything except an answer to the troubles William had hoped for it to solve.

An exhale deflated his chest, leaving behind a feeling of empty unease.

“Raise your bowl,” Rulu said in a voice that would’ve been a command from anyone else.

“Why?” William turned to see Rulu with a cup of soup. He lifted the bowl off his lap.

“Higher.”

William lifted it above his head. Rulu stepped into his lap. The soft velvety curve of her ass shifted, nudging him with obvious lewd intention. William had a perfect view of her pert little tits, of the silken valley concealed in the shadow of her dress, and of the hardened nips standing through it. He couldn’t help but notice that the fire did not glisten off of her skin.

Leaning to kiss her neck, the fresh scents of green and feminine overpowered the burnt wood and bone. Lips against her skin, William realized what was off.

“You’re drying?” Worries started to dart through his mind and he struggled to keep his voice calm. “How long can you survive? Damn, fuck. I should’ve remembered. We have water in the magic bottle and Duhie does.”

“Cease this panic at once, it does not suit you.” Rulu rolled her eyes, opening her jaws to pour in all of her soup. “I would never stoop so low as to beg a sea witch to part with her private ocean.”

“You don’t need to beg. Do you need water?”

“It is for you to drink.”

William placed his soup down, uncorked their former whiskey flask and poured a good two gallons on top of Rulu’s head. She and his front became a dripping mess. A chortle traveled through their companions.

“It is to sustain us, you included. And even if you take a shower daily there’s enough for… two weeks? Plenty of water for us to do what we’re here to do and some to spare. Don’t worry.” He frowned when her eyes departed to frown at her empty soup-cup.

A bitter smile twitched in the corners of her lips. “Two nights have passed and now rolls the third. Two more and Ishaiolthess will destroy all who stand on his path. He will hunt you down personally, of that we can be certain.”

William gave Rulu’s shoulder a loving rub. “We’ll get through this or die trying.”

Rulu ran her hands across his thighs as she smiled in quiet thought. When William tried to continue eating his soup, she finally spoke, “Did you swear your life to women of your realm?”

“No. Hah. Nope, it’s just…” William paused to look up at a hooved beauty who smiled at them.

“May