A cheerful humming pulled Ulric to awareness. It was an unfamiliar tune but the melody gave him the faintest impression of Green Sleeves, if it was written by Hans Zimmerman, the famed pre-collapse classical composer. It was said the man had written scores that entranced millions, easing their suffering through the initial phases of the collapse, buying them fleeting peace as they lived through the erosion of life as they knew it. Like a violinist on the Titanic, playing out the end.
This song was melancholic but, somehow, uplifting. It took Ulric a moment to realize it was coming from his Shadow outside, the connection being a little slow due to his morning brain. That and the simple fact that the woman did not sing, at least, she hadn't in his memory. Come to think of it, Hal'et had been humming the morning she'd departed. Maybe it was a She-Elf victory lap for sexing their partner unconscious? More testing would be required.
Chasing away the odd flickers of inane thought, Ulric pulled himself together to make ready to handle whatever nonsense Varda would throw them this day. He was tying his belt and fixing the sword sheathe on his back as he exited the hide tee-pee.
Taipan had acquired fresh meat. Something akin to a possum bred with a badger was roasting on a skewer which she rotated regularly over the low flame of the fire. If the coals were anything to go by, she'd been up for at least a couple of hours already. Hot damn, the lady was raring to go today.
"Good Morning Taipan how do the Twins find you this day?" Ulric greeted her in her own tongue.
She glanced up and favored him with a brief grin, a potent sign of good fortune to the day.
"It is well, Ulric Glade Chief. I discovered a [Bark Weasel] attempting to find a new burrow and it will make for a fine meal before we embark on today's journey. Sit and take water, it nears readiness." The woman returned, the sylvan language flowing like water from her tongue.
Ulric complied happily, rinsing his sleep-dried mouth with a swallow from the leather water bag. They would need to refill those before they departed the gurgling stream nearby.
"So, this is the much-maligned [Bark Weasel] eh?" Ulric asked.
The Iriel'en must loathe the things because they were used as one of the more common epithets for disreputables. No surprise that they'd still eat the ugly little buggers.
"Indeed, Ulric. The nuisances girdle trees near their burrows to cause them to fall, creating expansions for their offspring to use later. This one was in that very act when I went to make water. My knife throw was good and it could not return to the burrow before I managed to throttle it." She said, cheerfully.
Unbidden, the image of Taipan, pants around her knees, slaughtering the creature with her bare hands sprang to his mind. Yep, he'd just about bet it went something like that. What an animal. He was talking about the Elf woman, of course.
"As always, you amaze. Thank you for fresh breakfast Lady Shadow. Have you given thought to our course yet today?" Ulric inquired.
He'd be a little surprised if she had, she'd evidently been busy this morning. Barely had the suns begun their little dance through the Vardan skies but she'd hunted and prepared a meal.
She nodded affirmative though, while turning the roasting animal one more time.
"It is a slight detour we make this morning Glade Chief, to obtain the spoils of our victory over the [Mindworm] and its thralled [Bloodstarve] swarm.” Taipan grinned, anticipating a harvest of great renown, the true currency amongst Iriel’en hunters.
No greater coin did they exchange than bragging rights.
“The broodlings will be dead by this point and we should be able to make excellent time, absent concern for roaming beasts who will still be hidden or fled from their feeding,” The glowing lass reported, “I wish we had a sled now, the bones of the creatures are hollow and prized for certain artisans, who would pay well for them. We are already over-burdened for traveling swiftly though, and the cores will be enough.”
Her expression fell as she considered the spoils of victory that would be left behind, “The roots of the forest will claim the rest of them, I am afraid." She spoke, regretfully.
As any considerate hunter, she deeply regretted the waste of leaving prey unclaimed. The only consolation was that these beasts were particularly virulent and would have to be killed off no matter the circumstances of their journey.
"How far is it to the next village Taipan? Maybe I can whomp us up a sled, if you want." Ulric offered.
Her hands made the gesture for "not necessary". A swift, horizontal swipe of the hand, palm down, before balling into a fist. He was getting pretty decent at recognizing the secondary language the Iriel'en used to accent their spoken words.
"It will be fine. Our mission is more important. The nearest Celestin village is more than a day away, if we hurry. I have thoughts on that now, actually. I would rather not reveal the presence of a Human by my side, not so close to Iriel. By now, rumor of your position will have spread and there are plenty who will draw conclusions there. It is best that you remain out of sight until we are within the lands of the plainsfolk, for whom Human travelers are not so rare, especially in these times." Plotted the Huntress.
It was sound reasoning.
"I understand. It's fine to be too ashamed of me to have me seen in public." Ulric teased.
"Oh stop it." Taipan scoffed, "They would not have reason to take note of you until you opened your mouth and offended half the township within a few breaths."
Fair.
"I'll have you know I get on quite well with your kin. Better than you do even." Ulric rebutted.
She dipped her chin in acknowledgment, "This is so, but I am a Taipan." She admitted without shame before continuing her argument, "You are a Lord of the lands and more is expected. Dignity, grace, nobility of bearing, a considerate and thoughtful countenance."
Ulric didn't even have to think about that one.
"Uh Huh. And how do you explain Bald'rt Iriel?" He asked, eyebrow raised.
Her features soured immediately.
"Some rules do not apply when you are as ridiculously powerful as Father, which you are not. Besides, it is why he has married as he has, my Mothers handle most of the diplomatic issues which require…diplomacy. If you use a mason's hammer for anything but cracking rocks you will find a great deal more problems than you started with." Taipan said with an air of finality.
He couldn't really argue with that.
"Fine, fine. I'm just teasing you anyway. Feel free to hide me away in shame, I don't care to be your side nooky while we journey through the wilds of your kin." Ulric told her in mock seriousness.
That scrunched-up look she got when he confused her was so cute.
"What is this 'side nooky' of which you speak? Is this another one of your dirty jokes? I thought I made myself clear about referring to mine uglies." She said threateningly.
He raised his hands in surrender, answering her quickly before she decided to be angry, "No, no, not like that. Side nooky is, like, a paramour, a lover you don't talk about publicly."
Her menacing posture relaxed instantly.
"Oh. Well then, that is not so bad. Better than your last attempt at humor. Hmm…side nookie. Yes, you are allowed to be my side nookie while we are in Orlethrem. I will be your side nookie while we are in Prespang. It is a shame we did not have more time to prepare, I would have had a slave collar crafted. It is no matter, we will obtain one when we reach Otherkin territory. Slaves are common enough, even if Iriel'en are not. I doubt the peoples there will even be able to distinguish between tribes of Aes'r."
Ulric had heard her say something to that effect before.
"Is slavery really so common? And don't free Elves travel through Prespang for trade and whatnot, why do you have to pretend to be property?" He probed, trying to get a feel for the lands he was preparing to try to infiltrate.
He saw her expression turn incredulous before she eyed him a bit more neutrally.
"It is questions like those that remind me that you are not of this world, Ulric." She told him, some of her disbelief still evident in her tone.
"Slavery is one of the predominant practices amongst the merchant lords of Prespang, especially those monsters sitting on their golden thrones in Prosper. They run their farms with slaves, their trade ships, their mines, and their craftsmen. In some places, all of those not born into nobility or to named houses start as equivalent to slaves, competing to become freemen. A slave who is considered highly competent may be freed or may purchase their freedom when they have produced their own worth of goods or services." She spoke, as if it were common knowledge.
Which, he supposed, it probably was. Prespang sounded…awful. Like some kind of broken capitalism on steroids. He wasn't allowed to dwell long on that, she was already continuing her justification for her plan.
"Elves do trade and walk freely in the lands of Prespang, but they are always under observation and I will draw eyes.” Explained his Vardan Tour guide over breakfast.
“If I walk as a free woman there will be trouble, I would have to kill more than one for pressing his offer beyond reason. The local magistrates will then cause problems because they always do when an Elf woman defends her own person. I have seen and heard enough to tell you this with certainty.” She assured him, her tone telling him more than enough about what she thought about that state of affairs.
“However,” Taipan reasoned brightly, “If I go as your property, they will be insulting you by trying it. You will have to reject disgusting offers, but there will be fewer hard feelings and magistrates will not side against you simply because of the shape of your ears. As it is, it is almost a given that you will have to kill a few fools for making advances on my person that do not heed your objection. The others will realize then that you are not to be trifled with and we will be able to move in relative obscurity afterwards."
Yikes. He doubted her not at all, Taipan was far too matter-of-fact about this. She might as well have been describing her choice of socks. He was hoping that their infiltration plan was going to be a slightly less blood-in-the-streets sort of thing. At least until the end.
Could he just up and kill a man for being pushy? He banged a hand on his forehead immediately. Rephrase that, Ulric Einar. Could he defend a woman in his care from being raped by some stranger? Abso-fucking-lutely. In fact, just the thought of some bastard attempting to lay hands on his Shadow was enough to get the MDK whispers rolling through the back of his mind. As he grew more familiar with the triggers for the gift of the glade he was coming to understand that the bolted-on territoriality instinct did also extend to lovers and Shadows. And just about everything else that walked in what he could conceivably call his domain.
"Right. Gotcha. Let's just call it improving the breed then, a little thinning of the herd on our way to Prosper. Anybody garbage enough to try to push themselves where they aren't welcome just gets to pay the Vardan idiot tax." Ulric told his Shadow, who did not look displeased.
And no wonder. What she'd just described was a godsdamned nightmare. Why did people have to suck all over the universe?
He pondered it as he chewed roasted [Bark Weasel]. Actually? Not bad, could use a little vinegar.
That done they refilled water skins and took down their rudimentary camp. The Twins had risen a bare couple of hours past the horizon, they had nearly the entire day to make ground.
Taipan retraced the hazy steps Ulric didn't quite remember all the way back to the site of the [Bloodstarve Brood Mother] den. There, just outside the mouth of the cave was a sickening scene. Broodlings had returned to the den, many of them laden with corpses. They had discovered their slain brood mother and gone on a rampage. Trees were carved into kindling, stones gnashed by fanged teeth, and even the creatures themselves had been savaged in their fury. At some point, they had all weakened and died, some two score of them. He had to help his Shadow dig the brood mother corpse out from under a pile of the things.
It would have been tragic, had he not very clearly recalled the mindless bloodlust of the monsters as they swept out of the skies to kill him and his companion. As it was, the impact soon faded to obnoxious tedium. Those little buggers stank hard.
The incinerated body of the brood mother was basically reduced to a thorax, which made getting its core pretty simple. Ulric was surprised, although his Shadow wasn't, to see two cores in its chest cavity. One a crimson swirled with the rust of dried blood, about the size of a large man's fist. The second, larger, nearly the size of a rugby ball, was a sinister deep orange, with wormlike black ripples. Guess which one belonged to which.
"So, it hid its core with the host? Why not hide the eggs there?" He asked the resident expert on heinous ecology.
"The temperature is not correct, they like cooler environments. Also, the brood mother's blood was too acidic. It will etch milder metals if left too long on them. If not for the [Mindworm]'s natural resistance to poisons and acids it would not have been able to take such a virulent host. Here." His Shadow handed him the gore-covered cores.
He stood there holding them for a second.
"Am I supposed to stuff them down my knickers or what?"
She rolled her eyes, "Clean them off while I harvest the others and then put them into your pack. Don't damage them Ulric, these are going to pay our way to Prosper."
"Aye, aye Captain! This one hears and obeys!" Ulric announced loudly to the clearing before setting to his task, goose-stepping to a nearby creek to rinse the gore from their prizes.
She laughed lightly at his buffoonery and set about cutting into the remaining corpses, passing the extracted cores to him to clean. Twenty more marble-sized cores went into his pack, alongside the larger ones. Apparently, a good number had already decayed, the crystalline matrix that channeled and focused the manasphere of this odd world having broken them down to worthless shards and dim, mushy chalk-like consistency. By the end of the harvesting, his pack bulged weirdly and, despite his best efforts, smelled like a slaughterhouse floor. Oooh Goody.
They left the manufactured clearing behind, the ruin of the hijacked swarm rotting on the forest's winter floor. Fortunately, that was the worst part of the day's journey.
Northwards they turned, linking back up with the more well-established trails, distinctly marked by their Elven wardens, though not in a way that anyone not of them would be able to follow. That was one of the other defenses innate to Iriel. They protected themselves through obfuscation. Much like the now sunken city of Kyoto, by leaving out signage, they defended themselves from outsiders. The only people who knew how to find their way in the forest were the ones who needed to. It was a simple, but effective, tactic.
An invading force would have no distinct highways to follow, no navigational aids to direct them, nor any indication that a particular trail did not dead end in a forest glade next to a commonly harvested mushroom farm. Iriel'en harvesters were as likely to use the lower limbs of the trees to travel as they were the footpaths so there wasn't even a guarantee that following the trails that looked more frequently trodden would lead to the denser regions of civilization. All was hidden in the deep wood.
Were it not for the fact that he was being led by the hand by what amounted to one of the premier guides through her country, Ulric would have been hopelessly lost. In a way, it was liberating. He had exactly zero chance of being able to find his way around so he didn't even try.
That concern being rendered moot, he was able to concentrate his attention on the sheer stark beauty of Iriel in its dormancy. Rises topped by humps of snow taller than he was, great trunks rising like stalks of corn from their mounds dotted the landscape, their branches scattering upwards to reach towards the Twins. Tangles of vines wound their way up some, creepers hung from limbs in curtains, too thick to be seen through. Absent leaves, Ulric was able to make out bundles of branches and detritus that had to be nests for some critter or another.
Delicious silence accompanied their trek. Not even birds sang, most of the non-dormant wildlife having been run off by the ravening spawn of [Bloodstarves], eager to sate their bloodthirsty queen. Neither Human nor Elf saw the need to violate the quiet of these tangled groves with frivolous conversation. Simple hand gestures were all that was needed to indicate a path to be taken or a minor obstacle to be cleared. Taipan led them surely, steadily, towards their goal.
Ulric's chief concern was that his skin felt like he'd coated himself in honey and sat naked in a rainforest, for all the scream-inducing crawl that was washing over his skin. He had his [Ceraunoperception] up. The damned pulses of electromagnetic force returned to him to impart their echoes onto his body, disturbances caused by fluctuations induced by water, minerals, and anything even vaguely electrosensitive were translated into touch.
It was overwhelming. There was no other way to train the skill though and he refused to quit. Ulric needed the ability to bypass his limited Human vision. This spell had the potential to not only offer him detection in the deepest dark, underground, or when dust or ash obscured, but also to see through barriers like walls. If he'd known that Captain Firecracker was floating outside his apartment, it was far less likely that he would have been blown to smithereens.
While he followed his Shadow's lead, he used her motions to help train his brain to accept the input of the spell and render it into meaning. Hours of this maddening experience translated to some small degree of understanding. He was starting to resolve the more distinct impressions into an almost visual idea of his surroundings, like an extremely grainy and pixelated computer monitor showing an impressionist painting of a park. There was the suggestion of a tree over there, an almost clear signature of a creek hidden by the ice here, and, loud to his budding sense, the form of his Shadow outlined on his skin. It was definitely a work in progress.
A cheerful humming pulled Ulric to awareness. It was an unfamiliar tune but the melody gave him the faintest impression of Green Sleeves, if it was written by Hans Zimmerman, the famed pre-collapse classical composer. It was said the man had written scores that entranced millions, easing their suffering through the initial phases of the collapse, buying them fleeting peace as they lived through the erosion of life as they knew it. Like a violinist on the Titanic, playing out the end.
This song was melancholic but, somehow, uplifting. It took Ulric a moment to realize it was coming from his Shadow outside, the connection being a little slow due to his morning brain. That and the simple fact that the woman did not sing, at least, she hadn't in his memory. Come to think of it, Hal'et had been humming the morning she'd departed. Maybe it was a She-Elf victory lap for sexing their partner unconscious? More testing would be required.
Chasing away the odd flickers of inane thought, Ulric pulled himself together to make ready to handle whatever nonsense Varda would throw them this day. He was tying his belt and fixing the sword sheathe on his back as he exited the hide tee-pee.
Taipan had acquired fresh meat. Something akin to a possum bred with a badger was roasting on a skewer which she rotated regularly over the low flame of the fire. If the coals were anything to go by, she'd been up for at least a couple of hours already. Hot damn, the lady was raring to go today.
"Good Morning Taipan how do the Twins find you this day?" Ulric greeted her in her own tongue.
She glanced up and favored him with a brief grin, a potent sign of good fortune to the day.
"It is well, Ulric Glade Chief. I discovered a [Bark Weasel] attempting to find a new burrow and it will make for a fine meal before we embark on today's journey. Sit and take water, it nears readiness." The woman returned, the sylvan language flowing like water from her tongue.
Ulric complied happily, rinsing his sleep-dried mouth with a swallow from the leather water bag. They would need to refill those before they departed the gurgling stream nearby.
"So, this is the much-maligned [Bark Weasel] eh?" Ulric asked.
The Iriel'en must loathe the things because they were used as one of the more common epithets for disreputables. No surprise that they'd still eat the ugly little buggers.
"Indeed, Ulric. The nuisances girdle trees near their burrows to cause them to fall, creating expansions for their offspring to use later. This one was in that very act when I went to make water. My knife throw was good and it could not return to the burrow before I managed to throttle it." She said, cheerfully.
Unbidden, the image of Taipan, pants around her knees, slaughtering the creature with her bare hands sprang to his mind. Yep, he'd just about bet it went something like that. What an animal. He was talking about the Elf woman, of course.
"As always, you amaze. Thank you for fresh breakfast Lady Shadow. Have you given thought to our course yet today?" Ulric inquired.
He'd be a little surprised if she had, she'd evidently been busy this morning. Barely had the suns begun their little dance through the Vardan skies but she'd hunted and prepared a meal.
She nodded affirmative though, while turning the roasting animal one more time.
"It is a slight detour we make this morning Glade Chief, to obtain the spoils of our victory over the [Mindworm] and its thralled [Bloodstarve] swarm.” Taipan grinned, anticipating a harvest of great renown, the true currency amongst Iriel’en hunters.
No greater coin did they exchange than bragging rights.
“The broodlings will be dead by this point and we should be able to make excellent time, absent concern for roaming beasts who will still be hidden or fled from their feeding,” The glowing lass reported, “I wish we had a sled now, the bones of the creatures are hollow and prized for certain artisans, who would pay well for them. We are already over-burdened for traveling swiftly though, and the cores will be enough.”
Her expression fell as she considered the spoils of victory that would be left behind, “The roots of the forest will claim the rest of them, I am afraid." She spoke, regretfully.
As any considerate hunter, she deeply regretted the waste of leaving prey unclaimed. The only consolation was that these beasts were particularly virulent and would have to be killed off no matter the circumstances of their journey.
"How far is it to the next village Taipan? Maybe I can whomp us up a sled, if you want." Ulric offered.
Her hands made the gesture for "not necessary". A swift, horizontal swipe of the hand, palm down, before balling into a fist. He was getting pretty decent at recognizing the secondary language the Iriel'en used to accent their spoken words.
"It will be fine. Our mission is more important. The nearest Celestin village is more than a day away, if we hurry. I have thoughts on that now, actually. I would rather not reveal the presence of a Human by my side, not so close to Iriel. By now, rumor of your position will have spread and there are plenty who will draw conclusions there. It is best that you remain out of sight until we are within the lands of the plainsfolk, for whom Human travelers are not so rare, especially in these times." Plotted the Huntress.
It was sound reasoning.
"I understand. It's fine to be too ashamed of me to have me seen in public." Ulric teased.
"Oh stop it." Taipan scoffed, "They would not have reason to take note of you until you opened your mouth and offended half the township within a few breaths."
Fair.
"I'll have you know I get on quite well with your kin. Better than you do even." Ulric rebutted.
She dipped her chin in acknowledgment, "This is so, but I am a Taipan." She admitted without shame before continuing her argument, "You are a Lord of the lands and more is expected. Dignity, grace, nobility of bearing, a considerate and thoughtful countenance."
Ulric didn't even have to think about that one.
"Uh Huh. And how do you explain Bald'rt Iriel?" He asked, eyebrow raised.
Her features soured immediately.
"Some rules do not apply when you are as ridiculously powerful as Father, which you are not. Besides, it is why he has married as he has, my Mothers handle most of the diplomatic issues which require…diplomacy. If you use a mason's hammer for anything but cracking rocks you will find a great deal more problems than you started with." Taipan said with an air of finality.
He couldn't really argue with that.
"Fine, fine. I'm just teasing you anyway. Feel free to hide me away in shame, I don't care to be your side nooky while we journey through the wilds of your kin." Ulric told her in mock seriousness.
That scrunched-up look she got when he confused her was so cute.
"What is this 'side nooky' of which you speak? Is this another one of your dirty jokes? I thought I made myself clear about referring to mine uglies." She said threateningly.
He raised his hands in surrender, answering her quickly before she decided to be angry, "No, no, not like that. Side nooky is, like, a paramour, a lover you don't talk about publicly."
Her menacing posture relaxed instantly.
"Oh. Well then, that is not so bad. Better than your last attempt at humor. Hmm…side nookie. Yes, you are allowed to be my side nookie while we are in Orlethrem. I will be your side nookie while we are in Prespang. It is a shame we did not have more time to prepare, I would have had a slave collar crafted. It is no matter, we will obtain one when we reach Otherkin territory. Slaves are common enough, even if Iriel'en are not. I doubt the peoples there will even be able to distinguish between tribes of Aes'r."
Ulric had heard her say something to that effect before.
"Is slavery really so common? And don't free Elves travel through Prespang for trade and whatnot, why do you have to pretend to be property?" He probed, trying to get a feel for the lands he was preparing to try to infiltrate.
He saw her expression turn incredulous before she eyed him a bit more neutrally.
"It is questions like those that remind me that you are not of this world, Ulric." She told him, some of her disbelief still evident in her tone.
"Slavery is one of the predominant practices amongst the merchant lords of Prespang, especially those monsters sitting on their golden thrones in Prosper. They run their farms with slaves, their trade ships, their mines, and their craftsmen. In some places, all of those not born into nobility or to named houses start as equivalent to slaves, competing to become freemen. A slave who is considered highly competent may be freed or may purchase their freedom when they have produced their own worth of goods or services." She spoke, as if it were common knowledge.
Which, he supposed, it probably was. Prespang sounded…awful. Like some kind of broken capitalism on steroids. He wasn't allowed to dwell long on that, she was already continuing her justification for her plan.
"Elves do trade and walk freely in the lands of Prespang, but they are always under observation and I will draw eyes.” Explained his Vardan Tour guide over breakfast.
“If I walk as a free woman there will be trouble, I would have to kill more than one for pressing his offer beyond reason. The local magistrates will then cause problems because they always do when an Elf woman defends her own person. I have seen and heard enough to tell you this with certainty.” She assured him, her tone telling him more than enough about what she thought about that state of affairs.
“However,” Taipan reasoned brightly, “If I go as your property, they will be insulting you by trying it. You will have to reject disgusting offers, but there will be fewer hard feelings and magistrates will not side against you simply because of the shape of your ears. As it is, it is almost a given that you will have to kill a few fools for making advances on my person that do not heed your objection. The others will realize then that you are not to be trifled with and we will be able to move in relative obscurity afterwards."
Yikes. He doubted her not at all, Taipan was far too matter-of-fact about this. She might as well have been describing her choice of socks. He was hoping that their infiltration plan was going to be a slightly less blood-in-the-streets sort of thing. At least until the end.
Could he just up and kill a man for being pushy? He banged a hand on his forehead immediately. Rephrase that, Ulric Einar. Could he defend a woman in his care from being raped by some stranger? Abso-fucking-lutely. In fact, just the thought of some bastard attempting to lay hands on his Shadow was enough to get the MDK whispers rolling through the back of his mind. As he grew more familiar with the triggers for the gift of the glade he was coming to understand that the bolted-on territoriality instinct did also extend to lovers and Shadows. And just about everything else that walked in what he could conceivably call his domain.
"Right. Gotcha. Let's just call it improving the breed then, a little thinning of the herd on our way to Prosper. Anybody garbage enough to try to push themselves where they aren't welcome just gets to pay the Vardan idiot tax." Ulric told his Shadow, who did not look displeased.
And no wonder. What she'd just described was a godsdamned nightmare. Why did people have to suck all over the universe?
He pondered it as he chewed roasted [Bark Weasel]. Actually? Not bad, could use a little vinegar.
That done they refilled water skins and took down their rudimentary camp. The Twins had risen a bare couple of hours past the horizon, they had nearly the entire day to make ground.
Taipan retraced the hazy steps Ulric didn't quite remember all the way back to the site of the [Bloodstarve Brood Mother] den. There, just outside the mouth of the cave was a sickening scene. Broodlings had returned to the den, many of them laden with corpses. They had discovered their slain brood mother and gone on a rampage. Trees were carved into kindling, stones gnashed by fanged teeth, and even the creatures themselves had been savaged in their fury. At some point, they had all weakened and died, some two score of them. He had to help his Shadow dig the brood mother corpse out from under a pile of the things.
It would have been tragic, had he not very clearly recalled the mindless bloodlust of the monsters as they swept out of the skies to kill him and his companion. As it was, the impact soon faded to obnoxious tedium. Those little buggers stank hard.
The incinerated body of the brood mother was basically reduced to a thorax, which made getting its core pretty simple. Ulric was surprised, although his Shadow wasn't, to see two cores in its chest cavity. One a crimson swirled with the rust of dried blood, about the size of a large man's fist. The second, larger, nearly the size of a rugby ball, was a sinister deep orange, with wormlike black ripples. Guess which one belonged to which.
"So, it hid its core with the host? Why not hide the eggs there?" He asked the resident expert on heinous ecology.
"The temperature is not correct, they like cooler environments. Also, the brood mother's blood was too acidic. It will etch milder metals if left too long on them. If not for the [Mindworm]'s natural resistance to poisons and acids it would not have been able to take such a virulent host. Here." His Shadow handed him the gore-covered cores.
He stood there holding them for a second.
"Am I supposed to stuff them down my knickers or what?"
She rolled her eyes, "Clean them off while I harvest the others and then put them into your pack. Don't damage them Ulric, these are going to pay our way to Prosper."
"Aye, aye Captain! This one hears and obeys!" Ulric announced loudly to the clearing before setting to his task, goose-stepping to a nearby creek to rinse the gore from their prizes.
She laughed lightly at his buffoonery and set about cutting into the remaining corpses, passing the extracted cores to him to clean. Twenty more marble-sized cores went into his pack, alongside the larger ones. Apparently, a good number had already decayed, the crystalline matrix that channeled and focused the manasphere of this odd world having broken them down to worthless shards and dim, mushy chalk-like consistency. By the end of the harvesting, his pack bulged weirdly and, despite his best efforts, smelled like a slaughterhouse floor. Oooh Goody.
They left the manufactured clearing behind, the ruin of the hijacked swarm rotting on the forest's winter floor. Fortunately, that was the worst part of the day's journey.
Northwards they turned, linking back up with the more well-established trails, distinctly marked by their Elven wardens, though not in a way that anyone not of them would be able to follow. That was one of the other defenses innate to Iriel. They protected themselves through obfuscation. Much like the now sunken city of Kyoto, by leaving out signage, they defended themselves from outsiders. The only people who knew how to find their way in the forest were the ones who needed to. It was a simple, but effective, tactic.
An invading force would have no distinct highways to follow, no navigational aids to direct them, nor any indication that a particular trail did not dead end in a forest glade next to a commonly harvested mushroom farm. Iriel'en harvesters were as likely to use the lower limbs of the trees to travel as they were the footpaths so there wasn't even a guarantee that following the trails that looked more frequently trodden would lead to the denser regions of civilization. All was hidden in the deep wood.
Were it not for the fact that he was being led by the hand by what amounted to one of the premier guides through her country, Ulric would have been hopelessly lost. In a way, it was liberating. He had exactly zero chance of being able to find his way around so he didn't even try.
That concern being rendered moot, he was able to concentrate his attention on the sheer stark beauty of Iriel in its dormancy. Rises topped by humps of snow taller than he was, great trunks rising like stalks of corn from their mounds dotted the landscape, their branches scattering upwards to reach towards the Twins. Tangles of vines wound their way up some, creepers hung from limbs in curtains, too thick to be seen through. Absent leaves, Ulric was able to make out bundles of branches and detritus that had to be nests for some critter or another.
Delicious silence accompanied their trek. Not even birds sang, most of the non-dormant wildlife having been run off by the ravening spawn of [Bloodstarves], eager to sate their bloodthirsty queen. Neither Human nor Elf saw the need to violate the quiet of these tangled groves with frivolous conversation. Simple hand gestures were all that was needed to indicate a path to be taken or a minor obstacle to be cleared. Taipan led them surely, steadily, towards their goal.
Ulric's chief concern was that his skin felt like he'd coated himself in honey and sat naked in a rainforest, for all the scream-inducing crawl that was washing over his skin. He had his [Ceraunoperception] up. The damned pulses of electromagnetic force returned to him to impart their echoes onto his body, disturbances caused by fluctuations induced by water, minerals, and anything even vaguely electrosensitive were translated into touch.
It was overwhelming. There was no other way to train the skill though and he refused to quit. Ulric needed the ability to bypass his limited Human vision. This spell had the potential to not only offer him detection in the deepest dark, underground, or when dust or ash obscured, but also to see through barriers like walls. If he'd known that Captain Firecracker was floating outside his apartment, it was far less likely that he would have been blown to smithereens.
While he followed his Shadow's lead, he used her motions to help train his brain to accept the input of the spell and render it into meaning. Hours of this maddening experience translated to some small degree of understanding. He was starting to resolve the more distinct impressions into an almost visual idea of his surroundings, like an extremely grainy and pixelated computer monitor showing an impressionist painting of a park. There was the suggestion of a tree over there, an almost clear signature of a creek hidden by the ice here, and, loud to his budding sense, the form of his Shadow outlined on his skin. It was definitely a work in progress.
