Jon instantly realized who the voice must be and brought his face to his hands. “Oh, nooo.” He groaned. “Who the fuck are you?”
I’m Merus. Who—in the Silvy’s tits—are you?!
Jon chuckled at the outlandish phrase before he could stop himself. “Does Silvys have testicles or tits?” He asked. The voice in his head didn’t reply immediately, waiting for some sort of explanation. Jonathan thought for a moment. This was the first time he was interacting with a local. He needed to use a name that would eventually become an identity. The best ones were only one word. Like Cher or Britney. This was a moment where he could become the master of his own brand. “I’m Slate,” he said with a rich and smoky voice. It was a complete departure from the manic and high pitched voice in his head.
Great. Slate. Get. Out. Of. MY. BODY!
Slate sat down on a log that was upright next to him and crossed his legs. He cradled his chin in his head in pensive thought as if he was seriously considering Merus’ order. “No,” he paused. “I don’t think I will. I like it here, in this body. Also, you’re going to teach me everything about this world, or I am going to kill everything you love.” He smiled maliciously at the end. If he wanted this creature to comply, he needed to shock and awe. Once, his subject was off-balance, then he could find a mutually beneficial arrangement for both of them. Besides, there were no reporters here to hear him issue this threat. In this new world, he could act with impunity. He could let his worst impulses free. After all, it was his god-given mission he thought with more than a little bit of irony.
You wouldn’t. Merus said, uncertainty coloring his voice.
Slate nodded. “Yes, actually, I would. I’m not from this world, and I have no loyalty to its inhabitants. I was sent here for one reason, and one reason only. To conquer it and bring it back under the hand of Lucidus. So you can either tell me what you want to know, or I’m going to rifle through your head and remove all your secrets myself.”
Slate could feel the mental presence that was Merus withdraw in fear.
You can’t do that.
Slate smiled evilly. Merus wouldn’t be able to see the expression, but he would feel it as if it were his own body still. “Yes, yes, I can. In fact, from what I can sense of the situation, if I do that it will be incredibly painful for you.”
Merus responded with a false bravado that Jon could sense after his many years as a politician. You’re lying!
“Sure elf, you could take that chance. Either way, I am going to find where you come from. The path is right there. Once I find that I’ll simply kill everything there and acquire my own information. So you can either provide me the information that I request, or I’ll simply discover what I want for myself. It’s really up to you.” Slate stood as if he were going to make his way down the path.
Wait! I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Just, please don’t kill my wife! Merus said, desperately.
Slate wondered how important she was that Merus hadn’t blinked at Slate destroying his entire village but had balked when it became personal. He supposed that everyone had a weak point. Luckily, he was adept at finding them.
With a voice like honey and smoke, Slate replied “Thank you Merus. I promise I will do nothing to harm your wife, and you’ll help me by telling me everything I want to know. Simple. I think we’ll have an extremely productive relationship… Let’s begin.”
Chapter 5: Communion with Silvys
As Merus proceeded to brief Slate on the details of Woodhaven, Slate soon learned that he did, in fact, have the ability to rifle through his host's memories. It didn't hurt Merus as he had threatened, but it did allow him to gain context on the information that Merus presented. While they shared a body, Slate was thankful that Merus couldn't hear the machinations of his political mind at work. Once Merus had finished with a general synopsis of his tribe, village, and the Wyldwood, Slate realized that he had an opportunity to substantively advance his goals.
Although Merus' village was small and had little to no bearing on the geopolitical landscape, it had potential. In fact, it didn't even have access to the outside world, and that's what mystified Slate the most. He didn't understand why the barriers that separated the Wyldwood from the rest of the world still remained in place. It didn't seem practical. The forest itself was large enough to easily sustain the population of Woodhaven, but he couldn't imagine a world where humans from Earth could abide by such a barrier, mystical or not.
Delving further into Merus' mind, he uncovered a deep shame. There had been elves that attempted to escape the Wyldwood. However, the Guardians had been tasked with protecting the perimeter trees of Silvys, the local deity of the wood. This often meant the Guardians killed their fellow elves when they strayed too far from the party line. The irony of their title amused Slate with its doublespeak.
In summary, he had a religious populace on the brink of a crisis of faith, and they were used to listening to an authoritarian government that portrayed itself in the guise of a "council." Slate recognized the various measures that the council employed to keep their population under control. They were familiar tactics used by fundamental religious governments all over the world. Further, he had also lucked into a situation where he could influence the events of an important religious ritual without impunity.
By happenstance, he had an alternative deity that he was motivated to propagate, and if he were able to come back victorious from this Reaping that Merus seemed obsessed with, then he could take the leadership position of this village. It was even more fortuitous that the chief of the town had basically paved Slate's way the night before by telling the elves that this Reaping was more important than any previous ceremony.
Instead of claiming victory for Silvys, Slate would champion his own god of fire and light. Next, he would turn the villagers against the Guardians and the deity that had imprisoned them in this forest. Finally, he would lead them against the outside world by manipulating their natural fear of outsiders that had been developed over hundreds of years of separation from anything that didn't look like them. That would be the perfect opportunity to grow the Scourge and then decided where they needed to go next. Just knowing where he was in relation to the rest of the world would be a great boon.
Merus had approximate knowledge of every location within the Wyldwood. However, he had little information about the outside world. Most of the elves within the village had never even left the immediate vicinity of their treetop homes. The Guardians were responsible for cultivating the forest to the degree that they remained safe and secure in their tedious way of life. They didn't have any advanced technology to speak of, and even their magic had waned over the years. They didn't have any of the typical utilities that Slate would associate with civilization. Plumbing, electricity, and waste management were unheard of concepts. They had little need for such luxuries in their subsistence lifestyle.
Slate casually wondered if most of this world lived in the same way. If that was the case, it should be fairly simple to use his knowledge of politics and war to bring it to heel. His task would be significantly hampered if this world possessed the technology of his own world. At first glance, this was a realm of magic and mystery, but part of Slate missed the cold certitude of science.
Regardless, Merus' memories seemed to suggest that the elders in his village might have more information and information was worth more than anything else to Slate right now. He didn't have the luxury of continuing his journey blind and stupid. Additionally, Slate found the wood elve's nature-based magic an endless source of fascination. Right now, he was mainly using physical capabilities that were more lethal than they would initially appear for his level. He was an outsized threat in many ways for that reason.
It would be better if he could round out some of that capability with more functionality. These wood elves trained in hit-and-run tactics and clandestine operations. It was a natural by-product of their forest home. If he
placed them in a city, they would be just as adept. The Guardians were especially impressive warriors. They could turn nature itself against their enemy, and this was the kind of power that world leaders on Earth would slather over.
Slate doubted they had a Geneva Convention that would bar him from using biological weapons. Especially since things like Ricin, Anthrax, and the plague were found in nature. Shit. Slate thought. I am damn near a biological weapon myself. If I could learn to make more of me, I would be damn near unstoppable. The thought sobered him a little. He wasn't the most deadly thing in this world and perhaps it wouldn't be wise to take the pre-enlightenment values of an agricultural society and introduce them to the advanced weapons of his world.
He needed to focus on what he did know. The Scourge required soldiers. Slate personally needed people that would fight for him exclusively. A religious cult needed a rabid base that would surround and protect their charismatic leader and based upon Slate's limited knowledge of his own symbiotic relationship with Merus, the wood elves were the perfect vessels for his future Scourge descendants. Additionally, he knew from his military experience that a guerrilla force was absolutely necessary to dislodge more entrenched enemies. Once they had left the forest, that would be the only kind of opponent they found. Now that he had a goal in mind, he just had to figure out how to get there.
"Merus, what would happen if none of the Guardians made it back to the village?" The elf inside Slate's head seemed to seriously consider the question. The village elders would determine that they had been found wanting by Silvys. The forest always provides. Sometimes it provides bounty and sometimes it provides tragedy.
Slate smiled as a plan began to form in his mind. "Would your elders be upset if you were the one that made sure they didn't make it back into the village?"
The presence seemed to shrug. Not particularly. If the point of the Reaping is to find the strongest leader by making warriors showcase their abilities by hunting creatures, then the ultimate show of strength is dispatching your rivals. The voice paused. The practice hasn't been prevalent in recent memory. There aren't many of us, and too many things can go wrong in the hunt. Most warriors aren't willing to take the chance.
Slate sensed that the elf was hiding something from him. He probed the consciousness with his mind like he had something stuck in his teeth. After a few moments, he found what he was looking for "Ha!" He crowed, "If you had the opportunity this Reaping, you were going to kill a rival of your own!" Slate could sense fear from Merus. "Tell me about him." Slate demanded. Merus begrudgingly obliged.
There is another elf who has lusted after my wife, Lynia. In our culture, you can have as many wives as you can support. Women can have as many husbands as they can keep. Nature is not as discriminating as other societies. He paused to consider his words. There are only eight of us endowed with Silvys' protection. There are plenty of other hunters in the village, but only the other Guardians pose a threat to me.
Slate started walking along the path as he considered the new information. "Is there always eight Guardians?" He asked.
Sometimes there are more, and sometimes there are less. Some of the elders think that the overall health of the forest determines the number of its Guardians. His voice grew dark. Traditionally, the health of the Wyldwood has been defined to mean the lack of elves wanting to leave the bounds of the forest.
Slate could easily see how the Guardians had been manipulated to keep their own people ignorant of the outside world. It was an efficient means of control.
The elf continued. In recent years, my powers have been on the decline, and even more recently, the perimeter trees have been dying.
Slate flexed his arm and could feel a response from the woods around him. Turning on his mana vision, he could witness how the forest around him reacted magically to his own power. It wasn't much, but it was more than what Merus had been able to accomplish in recent months. "It seems to be working for me?" he said questioningly.
Merus seemed puzzled by the revelation as well. I noticed that. He said flatly. I honestly have no idea why the forest is responding to you. It isn't as strong or as much as I could perform when I was first chosen by Silvys to be a Guardian. He sounded curious and professorial. It's like you're using your own magical affinity with my experience and knowledge. I have far more magical aptitude than you do but it has been useless of late. Merus ended a bit sourly.
Slate decided to shelve the topic of conversation for now. He could figure out the magic portion later on. It didn't really matter to his current plans. "Merus, I propose an agreement." Slate could immediately feel Merus become suspicious.
The elf was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. He spoke slowly. I suppose that I don't have much choice at the moment.
Slate chuckled aloud. "Damn, it feels good to have a normal mouth again." He smiled wryly. "I won't lie to you, Merus. You're right. You really don't." Slate cupped his chin. "At least, right now, you don't, but who knows whether that will remain true in the future." He went on. " I don't understand my powers yet, and it's a better long-term strategy that you work willingly with me rather than by force."
Go on. Merus responded.
"WeIl, I'll use your powers and help you remove the other Protectors." Slate expected a response, but Merus merely waited for him to continue. "You—technically me—will be crowned the next leader of your village. It is my goal to shape your people into a force for the Lord of Light, but first I need to learn how to use my own powers, and leading your village will provide me a measure of safety so that I can accomplish that." Slate took a breath before he continued. "Once I've learned how to use my powers enough to propagate the rest of my race, I will allow your body to go free after I have selected another suitable host."
Merus seemed angry. I don't like being forced to live in this forest, it makes me sick to kill my fellow people for the high crime of curiosity, and I don't like the way that the elder council runs Woodhaven, but what makes you think I want you to manipulate my tribe into a weapon?
Slate seemed surprised that Merus hadn't immediately agreed. "What do you mean? Silvys has failed your people." His voice turned thoughtful "I'm offering you a different way. A path where your people can prosper, and you won't be required to kill them. In fact, it will be on you to be the Guardians that you always claimed to be. My Lord has allowed me to use your nature magic when your Silvys could not. By the forest's own rules, my god is superior." He finished convincingly. "The forest provides."
Merus seemed to be considering his words before replying. That is surprisingly, logically consistent.
Slate laughed again. "Yes, of course. Look, I would rather you work with me. I think it would end better for everyone involved but know that my plans don't require your participation." His voice gained a killing edge. "I have control over your body anyway, and I'll be sure to slit this body's own throat before I allow you to supplant me. That is logically consistent. Once you die, I'll just move onto another body and another until I get what I want anyway. Your only hope right now is to help me of your own volition and perhaps secure some benefits for yourself and for your Lynia in the process."
Merus didn't react to the violence in Slate's words. Everything the parasite had said was true to its nature. Merus couldn't fault the logic nor the means by which the bug had come to it. Right now, he had no choice but to accept Slate's offer. Maybe he could find a way out of the situation. Deep in his heart, he feared that Slate may be right about Silvys.
It was one thing to complain about the way the forest had been governed, but it was quite another to actually do something about it. He began to reflect on the speech that Sumnu had given to start this year's Reaping. Perhaps, this had all been foretold anyway. If it was, the end of his tribe's life as they knew it was nearing no matter how he aligned himself. It was the way of the forest that the strong would consume the weak to make the fo
rest as a whole stronger. Maybe, in a way, this was the will of Silvys.
I agree with your proposal, parasite. What do we do now? Merus asked.
"I'm glad you asked. You're going to teach me how to use the senses of the forest, and then I'm going to kill the other Guardians." Slate answered.
Merus chuckled wryly in his own head. Well, let's get to it. The harvest moon is wasting, and the Reaping ends at sunrise.
"That's perfect." Slate confidently said.
Merus snorted in his head. Whatever, bug sit on the ground and cross your legs. Slate did as he was told. Merus continued. Place your hands on knees, palms up, and focus on your breathing. As you do, imagine that mana exists all around you.
"Hold on there Obi-wan, you mean like this?" As Slate spoke, he activated his mana vision, and the night was again illuminated with his senses. Now that he had eyes to place his mana vision in context, he could discern far more than he could before. He used to distinguish plants and animals by the structures of their mana instead of what they actually looked like. Now that he had eyes, he could use both to get a more accurate picture of his surroundings. His mana vision wasn't good enough to make out finer details. But he could compensate using his elven eyes. He could feel a sense of awe in Merus.
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