12 Miles Below

"I may have made a horrible mistake." I hissed, getting a hand under me as I forced my body back up in the dim cave light. "On the same level as licking ice."

"Winterscar?" Drakonis asked, turning to me, looking a mix between startled and relieved. "Are you alright? What happened?"

Good news: Given I could open my eyes in the physical world, that meant Drakonis hadn't sliced my throat while I'd been fighting for my life against Relinquished.

Bad news: The machine goddess is scheming something. And she knows my name. And she knows which rock I'm hiding under right now. And that rock happens to be in the middle of nowhere, without Wrath, Father, Cathida, Sagrius or any of the House knights. The only one I had nearby that could 'help' was a Deathless who'd been a recent enemy as of a day ago.

But again, he hadn't sliced my throat or stabbed me through my heart and spine, which I consider a very good step forward knowing someone. No, I don't have a problem, of course my standards for friendship aren't anywhere near the bottom of a crevasse right now, thanks for asking.

"Stuff happened." I said. "Anything strange on this side? Machines moving around, or Kres anywhere near us yet?"

He looked out. "Armor hasn't pinged him or anything. No sign of machines either. " He looked back at the campfire embers. It was all setup, even had a flat enough rock to the side for whatever cooking was in the plans. All empty. "You went catatonic for half an hour, the only reason I didn't think you'd died was the biometrics from your armor telling me otherwise. That and you hadn't turned to dust yet. What were you doing next to that terminal?"

I gave a few coughs to get any drops of leftover bile out of my mouth, then clawed my way back on my knees and up, hand finding purchase on my discarded helmet. "I've got a spell that lets me interface directly with terminals and machines."

"You were talking to the terminal itself? Same way a machine would?"