What followed was mainly a massacre. The Rocs didn’t have nearly what it took to damage the Scourge, and Slate flitted amongst them like a specter of death. By the time he was finished, blood had coated him from head to talon. He landed on the ground and activated his aspect one final time. The flames burned away the blood leaving him pristine and refreshed. Once he dismissed the intense heat, the Scourge leaders joined him.
I did tell you that this area was known for wild creatures, my Lord, Matek said wryly.
Slate studied the man intently while trying to decide whether the man was making a joke or a valid critique. If Slate had made a mistake, he wanted to know so that he could fix it and avoid making it in the future. After a half moment of reflection, he realized that it was a fair critique and noted it as such in his memory. He would think about the tactical error later and try to imagine scenarios in which he could have improved his chances of victory.
I should not have flown so far from the rest of the Scourge. Had those Rocs been higher leveled or I less evolved, they may have damaged me. He didn’t apologize. He was far past the point where he felt the desire to apologize, but he did admit his mistake to learn from it. He wouldn’t be ranging past the scouts anymore. After all, it was their job to scout. It was his job to lead the Scourge, and that didn’t mean from behind enemy lines.
Matek nodded, knowing that was the most he would receive from Slate. He changed the subject knowing Fidem would probably say something stupid, or Sumnu would make an ill-timed joke. They hadn’t seemed to understand Slate’s personality as quickly as Matek did. They continued to make mistakes that reflected poorly on their observation skills.
Then again, Matek mused. It’s Sumnu’s job to hit things; he doesn’t need to be very observant. Fidem, on the other hand—that man could use a good punch in the mouth.
Matek wouldn’t go out of his way to make Fidem’s life more comfortable, but if he could maintain the social niceties enough to keep Slate in a good mood, then it was a deed worth doing.
What do you think is in their caves? He asked Slate.
Probably treasure, Sumnu interrupted before bending down to pick up a large bird feather from the ground. He turned it in the light to get a better look and watched as the sun glinted off of its metallic surface. It certainly looks like they’re made of treasure.
Slate considered Matek’s question. I’m not sure, he finally answered. In stories from my homeland, Rocs prey upon shipwrecked sailors. They may have retrieved some of the wealth from shipping expeditions gone awry. Slate looked through the cliffs as if he could see the beyond.
Matek, is this location close to a shipping lane? He asked.
Matek scratched his head. Sort of, my Lord. Koral is a prime slaving port because of its proximity to the northern border.
Matek looked awkward for some reason. Slate tilted his head and studied the man like a scientist finding something particularly impressive in a microscope. I’m assuming you have personal experience, he stated in a questioning tone.
Matek shot an uncomfortable glance between Sumnu and Fidem. Well, yes, my Lord. It was quite profitable, and there aren’t many trades within the Collective that can claim as much.
Slate nodded simply. I see. He didn’t particularly care about Matek’s slaving escapades. They weren’t his people, this wasn’t his world, and it was in the past. Matek wasn’t engaging in the slave trade now, and even if he were, if it served the Scourge’s interest, Slate could see his way to approving it. However, he didn’t care about any of that right now. It wasn’t pertinent information to the matter at hand.
I suppose it wouldn’t be realistic to find treasure then. He studied the openings to the cliffs and waited for some sign of the Lurkers’ return.
Ah, no, my Lord, Matek answered a question that was never a question. It was a sign of his discomfort that he missed the social cue entirely.
Still, it would be nice, Sumnu mused as he continued to play with the feather in one of his large hands. With anyone else, the feather would’ve looked comically oversized, but in his baseball-glove-sized hands, it looked like a writing contest participation trophy.
More wealth would always be beneficial to the Scourge, Fidem found himself agreeing with the brute.
Fidem’s entry into the discussion made Slate raise his eyebrow. Fidem, the church hasn’t been charging for its services, has it? Slate’s tone was light, but it carried the hint of immediate violence. It wasn’t so long ago that the Scourge leader had been covered in blood, and Fidem gulped as he answered.
Ah, no, my Lord. The church wouldn’t dream of charging followers of Lucidus.
Slate noted the priest’s specific phrasing but decided to let it go. He had flexed his influence with the priest for long enough. If he did it too much, the First Enticer would chafe at the leash that Slate had placed around his neck. It was better for Slate if the Enticer came into the fold willingly. It would be a shame to have to kill him and risk pissing off Lucidus.
That’s good then, he said with exaggerated calmness. It looks like the first Lurkers have returned, Slate noted clinically.
The other men turned to look and, sure enough, a few of the Lurkers were running down the side of the cliff as if it were a level plain. Slate was impressed. Even Shale and he didn’t have that kind of ability. Scaling up the cliff? No problem. Climbing down the cliff was another matter entirely.
When the Lurkers reached ground level, they transitioned to the flat ground just as quickly and loped toward them on all fours. Slate had never really noticed them running on their own, and he observed that they looked not unlike a certain xenomorph that he enjoyed watching in the movie theaters. It was one of the few cinematic series that grew better with time rather than worse.
A single Lurker broke off from the pack after conversing with the rest of them and made for the collection of Scourge leaders. Once the Lurker arrived, it tapped a fist to its chest and reported immediately. Slate was pleased. The motion wasn’t as exaggerated as the salutes he used to receive, and he was delighted that some semblance of propriety was percolating throughout the Scourge. While he enjoyed the trappings of wealth and power, he never chose them over efficiency or combat effectiveness. The accouterments associated with wealth were a tool, just like everything else. A well-tailored suit conveyed professional authority. An expensive yet refined watch said something about the person that wore it. Even the color of a tie could make a subconscious statement. Slate had studied the topic extensively in his effort to succeed in politics.
My Lord, the Lurker began. The caves are filled with large eggs.
How large? Slate asked the scout.
The scout held out his hands, indicating that the eggs were the approximate size of a basketball.
I wonder if they’re a good source of experience, Slate considered. At the very least, they’ll be a good source of biomass.
A shame, Slate responded. I was hoping for something more substantial. Slate was about to order the Lurker to collect them so Slate could check how valuable they were in terms of experience, but Fidem interrupted him.
Actually, my Lord. We can use these eggs. His tone was confident and oddly cheerful.
Slate arched an eyebrow at the man. He wasn’t sure that he understood what the equivalent of giant chicken eggs could do for the Scourge.
How so? Slate asked.
Well, Fidem licked his lips nervously. A fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Slate or Matek. Back in my homeland, we used eggs to raise various beasts. Sometimes they were used for work and sometimes for battle. I think we can use these for the latter.
Slate looked to Matek, the resident expert in all things Somnium. Have you heard of something like this? He asked.
Matek gave Fidem a sidelong glance, but the First Enticer refused to acknowledge it, keeping his gaze fastened on Slate with religious intensity.
Well, Matek was cautious. I have heard of some in the Ignatum Empire using salamanders as mounts.
Slate
frowned and had struggled to remember where he had heard the term before. Matek wasn’t talking about an earth-like salamander. Slate couldn’t help but think about a certain scar-touched wizard. Aren’t those big ass snakes? He tried to imagine the difficulty of remaining atop a giant snake.
Matek spared a glance for his Scion. No, my Lord. They’re quadruped lizards. They’re a bit taller than your average horse. They’re slow, but they have better stamina. The primary reason the Empire uses them is their immunity to fire.
That last bit of news surprised Slate. Do you think they can resist our fire? He didn’t like the idea that there would be creatures in the world of Somnium that could thoroughly shake off their most potent weapon. Even the Mystics used fire for many of their destructive magic. That would add an entirely new element to the inevitable confrontation with the Empire. In a perfect world, he would assume they would submit to the demands of the Scourge. However, this was Somnium. There was nothing perfect about it.
They might be able to, Matek hedged. I can reach out to Mella and see if she can figure anything out. It’s never been relevant to the Circle but now seems so given that we still don’t know what the Empire’s intentions are for the Scourge.
Slate nodded before turning back to Fidem. Where are you going to raise them?
The excitement faded from his eyes, and he pressed two fingers to his ear. “Bastion, does the city have any buildings that could be used to domesticate and train wild animals?”
Slate heard Bastion’s reply through his earbud, and he assumed that the other Scourge leaders heard him as well.
“Yes, First Enticer. We do, it’s quite expensive, but it does possess upgrades that will allow it to convert wild animals into Scourge animals.”
Slate’s eyes widened, and he quickly addressed Bastion. “Bastion, what kind of Scourge variants are we talking about. What could it do with Roc eggs?”
There was a momentary pause on the other side, and everyone could feel the smartassery about to flow from Bastion.
“Well, my Lord Scion. As you know, the Lord of Light herself has gifted me with many talents, but unfortunately, she has not gifted me with precognition.” His voice was dry and without the emotion that would signal sarcasm from anyone else. “I will be sure to let you know as soon as she does, however.”
There it is, Slate sighed without replying.
“My Lord, are you still there? Did you need more assistance?” A loud rattling cough came over the channel and all of the Scourge leaders clapped a hand to their sensitive ears and winced. It felt like Bastion was coughing right beside their eardrums. It was more annoying because the avatar didn’t possess a physical body, and the coughing was unnecessary.
“Yes, Bastion, I’m still here,” Slate ground out. “I don’t need any more assistance, thanks.”
“You’re quite welcome, my Lord Scion.” Bastion sounded a hint cheerful at the end.
At the end of the conversation, Fidem looked at Slate again. Well, my Lord? He asked.
Slate sighed. Yeah, that’s fine. He glanced at Matek. Round up the eggs and send a couple Lurkers back with them to drop them off at the city. Slate looked up at the sky. We’re only a day or so out, so there should be no issues with them catching up to us on the road. Without pack animals, they’ll outpace us quickly.
Aye, my Lord, Matek answered.
Oh, and Matek, Slate added in a private channel just so that only he could hear. Make sure they don’t fall into the hands of the priests. I want Guardians from Woodhaven taking care of them.
Matek didn’t make any physical indication that he had heard Slate’s words, but he replied anyway. There aren’t many of those people left, My Lord. Most of them have converted into one class or another, but I’ll make sure you will is carried out.
Slate dismissed the Scourge leaders and studied his stat sheet. He killed sixteen of the Rocs and netted himself a nice chunk of experience. Additionally, he leveled himself to fifty-eight and brought himself ever closer to his third evolution.
CHAPTER 12: THE OBELISK SHATTERS
AS THE TWO women watched the strange ritual, Shale wracked her brain for a way to intervene. She hadn’t gotten to choose the terrain, she knew nothing about her opponents, and strange magic usually something terrible was about to happen—especially when it was Vallyrian magic. She especially didn’t enjoy the fact that Lynia was operating based on an ambiguous feeling. She believed in gut instinct. Every warrior did. Over time, a fighter developed a battle sense and learned to trust their instincts. It took time and a multitude of conflicts. Gut instinct was merely the subconscious mind picking up details that the conscious mind filtered out. A warrior who ignored their gut was a warrior who died. Lynia wasn’t a warrior. She had only been a magic user for approximately a week. The feelings that were driving her couldn’t possibly be from accumulated experience. She frowned at Lynia.
Didn’t you get any information from the Lord of Light? She asked her gently.
No, Lynia responded. I only felt a disturbance in the ambient mana as we were traveling west. She gestured to the warped and distorted life around them. This is all wrong. It’s a perversion that speaks against Lucidus’ primary nature. We know what we have to do, even if it isn’t pleasant. Lynia’s voice was quavering. Despite her confident, even zealous talk, she was frightened. Shale understood. When she first became a Guardian, she had been afraid to do many of the tasks that the remnant of Silvys required of her. She had lived with her fear that she wasn’t good enough, that she wasn’t strong, that she wasn’t brave, and that she deserved all the bad shit that had happened to her. She felt that way until Lucidus promised her a throne. After that, she had been adamant that she wouldn’t be afraid. Concern still touched her thoughts. A warrior without caution tended to die quickly, but she refused to let caution become fear. Shale drew a distinct line between the two. She needed to be strong for Lynia now.
Shale nodded, mind working overtime. What would Slate do? She asked herself. The man had an annoying penchant for maximizing damage and getting results without seeming to expend any effort. She wasn’t him; she needed to work for her victories. She just needed to find the solution to the problem in front of her.
Aha. She had an idea. This is just like the Way. Distract with one strike; kill with the other.
Alright, she said to Lynia before projecting her instructions through the Scourgemind at large. We’re going to distract and kill the Vallyr. We’re going to soften them with magic and then get up close and personal. In the last statement, she could feel the bloodlust rising from the Lurkers. They lived to get up close and personal with the enemy. Perhaps not in the same way as the Raiders, but this would be good enough. Mystics create a line around the clearing; I want your most potent spells raining down on those Collective dogs. Enticers, remain in the rear in case we need healing. Be ready to defend the Mystics if necessary. Lurkers, get ready to charge.
Lynia caught Shale’s eye and spoke only to her. Their most potent spell is fireballs right now. They’re larger than Guardian projectiles, and they can be more finely controlled. Do you want them to use that?
Shale thought about the question. Fireballs were flashy, and she didn’t know if there were other Collective forces in the area. The goal of her group had always been to attack their opponents stealthily. The worst thing that could happen to them before they reached Ithicus would be to engage in a pitched battle before engaging with the forces headed for Bastion. If they died before they could slow down the main enemy effort, then it could push on to Bastion before Slate could return with his army. Then they would have split their forces for no reason and likely lose their home base as a result. The considerations flashed through her mind in the time it took to take a single breath.
Yes, Shale ordered. Remain here in the tree line to coordinate the Mystic’s fire. Shale knew that there was a good chance that the use of the Mystic’s abilities would draw the attention of other Collective forces, but it was a risk she considered w
orth taking. I should be able to send you better instructions when the Lurkers and I are among the enemy. Use the Scourgemind to refine your targeting. Each one of us will help the Mystic’s target the enemy more accurately.
Lynia felt distinctly uncomfortable. I don’t know that I can use the Scourgemind that well. When I’ve tried, I’ve gotten too wrapped up in the emotions of the rest of the Scourge.
Shale considered the admission. Neither she nor Slate had ever had that problem. Then again, they had the Scourgemind from the very beginning. They learned how to use it while they in Wayward and later in Bastion. With each engagement, their use of the Scourgemind had gotten better. The first connection had been jarring and confusing to adjust to. From Shale’s perspective, it had been difficult to allow him to peek into her psyche. Lynia was having the opposite problem.
Sorry, First Mystic, you’ll have to learn on the fly. She tried to inject a sense of authority into her voice. Lynia always seemed to perform better when she was reminded of the role she was fulfilling. It worked when she had been asked to be the governor and when she accepted the transformation to First Mystic—a choice that Shale still wasn’t sure she understood. It didn’t fit Lynia’s personality at all. She shot a wry glance at her companion. Just don’t drop a fireball directly on me.
Shale could feel the other woman’s amusement at her words. It was a joke, Cleansing Fire wouldn’t harm their forces anyway, but the touch of humor made them both feel less nervous. For Lynia, this was her first real battle. On top of that, she would need to utilize the Scourgemind in a way that she had never practiced. It highlighted to Shale the fact that they would likely need to develop some kind of Scourgemind training for all the Scourge. She was always looking for ways to improve the regimen she created. The Way allowed for better coordination, but it didn’t lend itself to sifting through the vision and memories of the rest of the Scourge to find specific things. That was something that had to be learned through practical use. For Shale’s part, this was her first military operation as the leader, and there was a plethora of ways that the battle could go sideways. She wouldn’t forgive herself if it ended in disaster. She would be ashamed to return to Slate’s side as anything less than the ultimate warrior.
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