41 loop 1 Part 21

I needed a body for Flag. Sadly, that meant losing one of my already constructed golems. But it was a small price to pay for whatever a soul-tethered golem could bring. And besides, it was Flag. It would’ve been nice to have someone in my corner.

I picked the back-left golem and got to work. I knelt down next to it, found the seam of its chest casing, pressed my fingers into it, and the plate gave way, swinging open. The battery sat inside. I lifted it out and it hummed against my palm. It was hot. I almost dropped it. I didn’t think mana batteries were supposed to be this warm, but I was hoping it was a moot point since I was removing it.

I had absolutely no plan for what to do with a foot-long cylinder of stored mana radiating heat into my hand. I knew they could explode, given what had happened with Theron. But it was exactly the kind of backup plan I needed, especially with what I was about to face.

I set it on my chair and figured I’d come up with something soon enough.

I used [Move] to pick Flag up off the floor and placed him into the open chest cavity. He fit easier than I expected. The cradle had clearly been built for mana batteries, not stones, but it was close enough that he sat snug against the copper mechanism.

I closed the plate over him and stepped back.

I’d cast this spell only one time before, and I’d passed out before I could see it work. So this was the first time I’d actually experience casting [Soul Tether].

I pulled up the spell info and braced for the same insane number I’d seen when I’d tried to cast it on my uncle.

[Soul Tether — Soul]
Cost: Variable. 40 mana.

I stared, mouth agape. Only 40 mana. God, I’d been ripped off. But I guess that was the difference between a grown man and a flagstone.

I cast the spell. A golden thread spun from my chest, crossed three feet of air, and sank into the golem’s core—and presumably caught Flag. His soul settled down on the other end of the line, anchoring there. And I felt… well, not a heartbeat, because flagstones didn’t have heartbeats, but a steady rhythm connecting our souls.

Then my mana pool ticked down and kept ticking.

[Soul Tether] mana reserved. -8% maximum mana.

There it was. The 40 mana had only been the down payment.

Corwen’s tether ate about 25% off the top. Flag’s was only 8. I tried to be grateful, but I was still annoyed at losing a third of my mana. I guess that was the price I paid to keep my uncle alive. And to finally have what I’d always dreamed about.

Minions.

Oh, said Flag. Whoa, this is different.

The golem moved. Flag was a natural. Despite the jerky movements, he was already moving more naturally than the soulless golems.

Laz. Laz, I have a front. Do you see this? I have a front and a back. I’ve never had a back before. I’ve only ever had a top and a bottom. Oh, this is new. I like this.

I tried not to laugh. His enthusiasm was infectious.

“I see it,” I said.

He lifted a hand in front of his face and turned it over. Then he turned it back. Then he did it again, slower. Then he pressed two stone fingers against the seam of his mouth, like he was checking whether it opened.

It has a texture. Oh, I like this. Oh, the inside has a texture, too. Everything has a texture, Lazlo. Did you know that?

He took the fingers away and laid the whole hand flat against his own chest. He opened the front panel and pressed one finger against the slab of flagstone.

Is this me? This feels like me. But it’s weird. It’s part of me, but not at the same time.

“That’s stone. It’s just what you’re made of.”

Oh, I know, he said, delighted. That’s the strange part.

He opened his mouth. Shut it and then opened it again. A weird, strangled cry escaped his lips. He repeated the process a couple of times before looking at me for help.

My mouth opens, but the sounds don’t come out right. I thought mouths were for talking. Do you know how to talk out loud?

“Yes. I’m talking to you right now,” I said. “I think the problem we’re experiencing is that golems don’t have voice boxes.”

Oh.

He kept trying anyway. The third attempt came out less a cry and more an almost-word—rough and slow, like gravel settling. He tried a few more times, and then finally:

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“Oh,” he said aloud. “Is that my voice?”

His voice was deep and dry and not quite what I expected. It sounded different from the internal voice I’d always had for him.

“That’s… oh,” He touched his mouth, and then looked around as if trying to find another source for the sound. “That’s me…”

“Yes, that’s you.”

“Oh, I like this,” His mouth opened again, wider this time, the gravelly voice scraping out with obvious delight. “I really like this.”

There was a window on the wall. He found it on his own, his head swiveling back and forth, double-checking that it was what he thought it was.

“Laz? Laz, it’s a window. I can just look at it.”

He went still and did just that. Outside, it was dark, the early morning sun hidden behind storm clouds.

“Oh, that’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Windows. Oh, what is that?”

He turned away from the window and pointed his face at the wall. Then he angled his nose toward the mana battery on my chair and held very still.

“There’s something,” he said. “But I can’t quite get it.” He sniffed. “I don’t know how to explain it.” He pointed his nose at his own arm and sniffed again. Then he marched to the golems and sniffed at each of them in turn, then at me, then back at the battery.

“You have it, too. You smell like something warm. Do you know what it is?”

I genuinely didn’t know golems could smell.

“I don’t know what it is, but it’s on you, and on the golems, and on the battery. I didn’t smell anything in the classroom. It’s strange.” He paused. “It smells blue.”