The company bedded down soon after dark, the day's labors proven taxing, especially for the scouts who had rucked at least sixty kilometers while searching for the parties that had passed through the gate ahead of them. That was an average of six kilometers an hour in terrain Ulric knew firsthand to be not level and not without risk at that pace. Then again, they were Elves in a forest, who else would be better suited?
Ulric, at Geyrt's reminder, went out into the cold to do his balance exercises. To his surprise, she actually went out with him and endured the cold while he completed his ten repetitions. He appreciated that, Winter was proving to be a frigid beast up here on the Plateau, it wasn't nothing to go stand watch for a quarter-hour with the wind trying to peel the heat out of one's bones. She also made some corrections for his motions that smoothed a few of the trickier transitions. He made sure to thank her for her assistance before they returned to the relative comfort of the shelter. Shadow or no, Ulric wasn't about to take for granted that a professional scout, big game hunter, and general Elven badass was playing maid in waiting for him. Even if that had come about because she'd tried to murder him in cold blood and then, later, through premeditated deceit. He guessed that, amongst the Iriel'en, live and let live was a slightly more literal attitude.
His shelter wasn't made with so many people in mind, so while he got his bed and Geyrt got Brighteyes' old spot, the troop had arranged their bedrolls as comfortably as possible around the outside fireplace and would find repose in their tents. They were already asleep by the time the erstwhile engineer and his assassin-maid returned. Ulric lay awake for a short time watching the flames lick up the freshly placed firewood, his mind turning over the problem of the seemingly invisible people who were up here on the plateau with them. Something didn't add up.
He wasn't sure what his conscious brain had missed, but he couldn't dismiss the gnawing feeling that they were overlooking some critical evidence to explain how experienced scouts were unable to find even slight traces of passage. An errant wisp of intuition spilled cold water down his belly: The canopy. They weren't on the ground at all, he'd been wrong earlier when he discounted that option.
He thought back to the group he'd rescued Brighteyes from. There was no way those men were up in the canopy by accident. It was hilariously more dangerous to traverse those tangles of branches, winding highway-sized limbs, and the creatures that dwelt there but that was where the Not Poachers had been. And they'd pulled it off without giving alarm by nervous birds, hungry predators, or ever-alert prey. Somehow those guys had gotten the inside track, and were able to get around in a place they could never have been before. He'd bet the yak wool socks he wished he had that the new bunch had immediately gone to the tree tops from the [Ancient's Gate] instead of staying down at the ground.
How had they known to do so? It wasn't exactly along the way, the lowest branches of the [Godtrees] were three or four hundred meters up. And it wasn't like these woods were well explored, if Bald'rt was correct, there hadn't been anyone up here for thousands of years. So where were the intruders getting their information?
Once again, Ulric considered the potential for some kind of scrying, active or passive detection magic that could view remotely. With something like that, avoiding Ulric's party would be trivial. A drone or hidden eye in the sky could give an insurmountable advantage to a raiding or scouting party. Ulric would suggest that Christ lead his search team to the canopy to pick up trails tomorrow, he knew in his gut that was how their enemies were getting around. It didn't explain how they'd gotten so far without a sign of their passing, but at least it gave Christ's men a starting point. He'd ask if there were ways to prevent scry magic while he was at it. Sleep fell on him shortly thereafter.
Ulric was woken by his Shadow, her cloaked form like some kind of angel of death. But what a way to go. Yawning and giving a bone-popping stretch, Ulric climbed out of his blankets. It seems that Geyrt was the early bird, the rest of their team lay snoring in their bedrolls. The smell of wood smoke hung lightly in the cozy shelter. Accompanying it was the faint animal odor of the furs he'd been storing and that slightly earthy, empty house funk.
Before he could forget, Ulric set cross-legged on his bed and addressed the serious young woman.
"Geyrt, the men your scouts are looking for are in the canopy. They aren't traveling down here on the forest floor, they're up there." Ulric pointed upwards to accentuate his statement.
"I discounted it at first, on account of how insanely dangerous it is to travel those ways without knowing them well, but that's where the men who took Brighteyes were when I ambushed them. I think whoever is here is probably from the same place as those guys, and that they, somehow, have knowledge about the layout of the plateau. How else do two separate groups know exactly how to slip through Orlethrem, then find their way through the deep wood to get to this plateau, and then also navigate it undetected? Seems a little farfetched to me." Ulric concluded.
Geyrt thought Ulric's statements over silently for a minute absently chewing her bottom lip. When the somewhat absent glaze left her eyes she was back to laser focus. She was also pissed.
"There are traitors in Orlethrem." She hissed.
"These men have been fed information to ease their passage, they have been given the means to penetrate the wards that guard Orlethrem against magical examination. I was skeptical earlier as well, intrusions are possible without collaborators, but this is too much to be coincidence. It was just over a month ago that Lumyt'seit was taken, a second incursion so quickly is only possible with updated information, our patrol paths were drastically changed following his capture.” His Shadow informed him, before going quietly pensive.
The Elven woman’s ears flittered with agitation and she was chewing a lip aggressively. She tossed the midnight mane before sharing her conclusions.
“It would seem, if you are correct in your thinking, that these men are using the same tactics as the ones from before. All of this points to premeditation. Careful strategy. Our enemies have been planning their movements far in advance, and with help from someone close to Iriel. My people are not unversed in counter-detection magics and they are probing for such. Yet, it seems the enemy has found a way." Geyrt said with disbelieving anger.
Ulric had been chewing on the problem for long enough, ever since he'd rescued Brighteyes, turning over the sheer improbability that was meeting those men at all, to have suspicions.
"I think that I was a fly in the ointment, an unknown entity in their calculations Geyrt," Ulric told her in a hushed whisper as the hunch played out in his mind.
"It wasn't an accident that they took to the plateau, they knew the [Forest Lord] was dead and they knew they could use that window to get through without serious resistance. Maybe they even knew that a human, if an unknown one, was responsible and thought that they might get aid from their kin.” He said, reluctantly.
Ulric wouldn’t have the racial biases or hereditary attachments that would make that kind of leverage useful against him but it would make sense that whoever was about this didn’t know that. How would they anticipate a man from another world?
The Reforged confided another potential mindset of their adversaries, “It would make sense that they could, at least, be able to buy impartiality. Whoever is conducting this campaign, they have serious Fuck You money. Operatives that can evade Elves can’t be cheap, nor can the skills that bypass the magical shrouds that have shielded your lands.”
He only briefly considered leaving off his next thoughts, but, it was best to keep things out in the open.
“There is also the fact that, if they knew a human was up here, even if they weren’t certain of his allegiances or connections, they’d have little trouble passing off Brighteyes’ abduction as the work of somebody else, covering their tracks when your Hunters came up here and killed me in my sleep.”
Geyrt frowned but didn’t object to that last statement.
Because he was without grace at all, Ulric drove the point home, as it represented a potential weakness to his pointy-eared allies.
“Your kin are no friends to outsiders Geyrt, I'm not under any illusions about how my presence would have been taken had I not stopped Brighteyes' kidnapping and been discovered by your people without his aegis. Strong as your folk are, dominant within your own domain you may be, but insular peoples always develop habits and blind spots that can be taken advantage of by observant parties."
"Now," Ulric whispered, "What are we going to do about it?"
That question caught his Shadow off guard. She looked askance at him, like a new puzzle piece had been added to the stack she was already working on and she didn't quite know how it fit.
"You are willing to help us in this?" She asked bluntly.
"Forgive my saying, Glade Chief, but this is a matter for Elves. As much as I want to be with my people, as much as I want to go put arrows in the scum who break our peace, I am your Shadow now, and it would be breaking my oath to do less than I might by putting your interests behind my kin. You do not owe us this, it is enough that you have helped my little brother return home and exposed the threat to our lands. Why would you do this for those to whom you owe nothing, whom you have only just met?"
It was Ulric's turn to be tossed a curveball. She wasn’t wrong. Why did he care so much? All he'd wanted since he got to this world was to be largely left alone to live and do as he saw fit. Part of him wanted to develop his glade home into a wilderness homestead that would bring him comfort and a satisfying life of stewarding the land. Another part wanted to stay put only long enough to grow in his strength to be confident in handling himself so that he could go explore this strange new world. Ever since he'd met Brighteyes those goals had only been slightly refined as he had wanted to make the potent Elves allies, if possible, and a neutral party, if not.
In the month or so since he'd met Brighteyes, something had changed, especially since he'd journeyed to Irielhos and been made welcome in the home of the Deep Wood folk. As he turned it over in his mind, his fingers snapping rhythmically by his side, he decided what the turning point had been: He liked them. Ulric genuinely liked these people. They were honest, diligent, stern but compassionate, surprisingly spontaneous and whimsical, at times, and they lived in a harmony with the world that Ulric had never dreamed possible. Maybe they weren't the most inclusive folk, but then, Ulric wouldn't have been either if he had things dialed in as well as they had and had something to protect as fiercely as they did.
Which, he realized, he did. There were strangers on his plateau and it pissed him off. They weren't welcome, they didn't belong, and he'd be damned if he let them get away with trespassing. Ulric could sympathize with these Elves. They lived long enough to witness the gross short-sightedness and selfishness of humans. Every few hundred years, a third of their lifespans, they had to endure incursions and attacks that cost them family, friends, and lovers known for centuries. How could they not view humanity with suspicion and hostility? Just when they'd gotten things settled, they would have to clean up another human mess. The real mystery was why they hadn't just wiped out the people of Prespang?
It wasn't in their nature, Ulric decided. The Elves were, fundamentally, grove tenders. They loved life and nurturing it to growth, you could see it in all aspects of their culture and, most obviously, in their architecture. They worshipped all things growing. They made war because they had to and the Iriel'en had taken that role upon themselves most especially. Probably to spare the rest of the necessity, as much as possible. So, if the Iriel'en seemed to have the attitude of a Comanche raiding party it was probably because they'd been forced to be something they, at an instinctive level, abhorred. Only, the catch-22 was that Aes'r he'd met felt compelled to do things in whole parts, it was damned near an Iriel'en phenotype. If warriors and guardians they had to be, then they would do it with nothing held back and with full resentment towards those that made it necessary. No wonder the Iriel'en were such hardcases. He hadn't met the other tribes, he couldn’t say how much of his observations he could generalize to the rest of Orlethrem but he felt like, for the deep woods kin, he had a bead on what moved them.
It had been a long moment Ulric realized. He'd gone silent as he thought out what factors had driven him to feel like he needed to help the Elves. He thought of Hal'et. Fierce, playful, laughing, burning gloriously Hal'et. She encompassed the joy for life he found so marvelous in Elvendom. It didn't hurt his attitudes that she had made his world move. Repeatedly. He shook himself to dispel that sorceress and wiped the budding smile off his face. Focus, you randy bastard, We’re Talking.
"Against their better judgement, your people have been good to me Geyrt. Your little brother was my first friend in this strange world. Your father is a goofy, plotting, maniacal, powerful asshole and I respect him for it because he does it all to keep his kin safe. You might be a cold-blooded, bushwhacking, assassin lady, but you were pushed into that by those otherkin in Prespang refusing to just act like decent people." Ulric explained to her.
Geyrt frowned briefly when he described her but then nodded, accepting it as a true statement for an outsider. To a non-Elf, a non-Iriel'en, that was basically exactly what she was.
Ulric went on, "Since I was a boy, I have hated my own people for being unable to think past their own short lives and for being so unwilling to make small sacrifices for the good of their neighbors, to say nothing of their own world. You have to understand Geyrt, the humans of my homeland crippled their own world. They took from it, wasted it, exploited everything they could, each other included, until they brought themselves to the edge of extinction.”
Even he was surprised at the outrage and open contempt leaden in his voice. He’d come to simmering fury at the memory of it.
“I was born just outside the crisis, a bare century after we turned back from the brink. And, even so close to the edge, we weren't satisfied. I am a product of my people and we never learned to be happy. To coexist in peace. It was an instinct, some bone-deep need we had to push into the unknown, to expand."
"Is this why you are worms in the head all of the time?" His Shadow asked, without sarcasm.
"Probably, yeah." Ulric answered honestly. "Believe it or not, I've settled down quite a bit since I was reborn here. I decided, early on, in this place that is as a paradise lost by my homeland, that I wasn't going to bring the bullshit that made me miserable in that old world with me into this one. It isn't easy, habits are hard to break, but I'm trying. In a way, your people are a model from which to learn. I don't want to be an Elf, but there are things that Elves do, attitudes they have, that are in line with becoming the man I want to be." He admitted.
"And this is why you would help my kin?" She prompted, adopting a thoughtful expression, at odds with her usual resting bitch face.
"Being good to good people is reason enough, isn't it?" He challenged, thinking to the transactional attitudes of his old life that had bred an internalized, almost casual, cruelty that had pervaded society throughout human history.
"If we would all do the right thing, because it was the right thing, there'd be a great godsdamned less suffering in the world. On the other hand, sometimes some people just need killing, kindness is wasted on them. They can't be reasoned with, they won't back down from their prime directive to poison every well from which they drink, and they won't be happy until they've taken everything they can and destroyed everything they can't. Those people ruined my world. I think I'll use the Watcher's gifts in this life to kill those people wherever I find them, like pruning a tree of the rotten bits so the rest can grow correctly." Ulric reasoned.
It wasn't much of a philosophy but it would do for him. The Dao of Some Fuckers Just Need to Die wasn't for everyone, but, for a cynical dick like him, it was definitely the only correct way to respond to the insanity of the world. Justice was great, right up until you realized the law was really only as good as the ones who wrote it, and it only served those who could enforce it, whenever they chose to do so. History made that out to be, more or less, a game of numbers. Every couple of hundred years, the law would become weaponized against the populace to the point that they would discard it, guillotine all the nobles in public squares, and start over. Nothing was learned. He was bitter about that, most of all.
The beautiful huntress standing nearby came to a decision.
"I may have been wrong about you Ulric. You are worms in the head. You can also be insufferably obnoxious, an "asshole" as you call it. But you aren't a bad person." Geyrt Iriel pronounced.
"You know something Geyrt?" Ulric recalled, "That's exactly the first thing your brother said to me."
The two of them lapsed into a, for him, awkward silence.
"Would the two of you like some alone time?" Christ said suddenly, loudly breaking the moment.
"We can find some task to occupy ourselves, if you like, Glade Chief. Worry not, there is no precedent against enjoying a bit of sheet ruining with one's Shadow, if they are willing. I can be your second, if you fear you will not survive the encounter, Bald'rt's eldest daughter is not a conquest lightly taken and you may not live to see the end of her pleasure." Announced the grinning Elf from the doorway.
Ulric found himself caught off guard, embarrassed by the suggestion, especially as it was something he rather steadfastly avoided thinking about. He had trouble enough dealing with his Shadow, without having that to worry about. They'd almost achieved a certain comfortableness to their relationship over the past ten days. The tips of Geyrt's ears had reddened and her face was a thunderhead, promising lightnings. She was going to do something rash if he didn't head this off. Hurriedly, Ulric cut off whatever brewing violence his abrasive body guard was going to offer.
"Thanks Christ, but I am sure we have better things to do today than indulge your profane fantasies. It wouldn't do to put my guests into the cold while I make them, at first, awkwardly uncomfortable and then, later, mindlessly jealous." He said with feigned regret.
"Besides, if I wanted to commit suicide, I'm sure there are way less painful ways to do it than by playing pin the tail on the [Shadow Panther]." That last he threw out to help assuage Geyrt's pride.
She wouldn't appreciate anyone making any assumptions on her account. He certainly wouldn't, were he in her place.
It seemed to work, to some degree. His Shadow didn't look like she was going to start peeling bits off of anybody, not right away, and the laughter of the rest of the warriors made the joking suggestion clear to be only that. Fucking Elves. They had the comedic sense of a mosquito, finding all the itchy bits and diving straight for them. No wonder duels were a norm in their culture.
Ulric was going to chalk Christ's little ambush up to revenge for dinner. A little embarrassment was fine, an easy price to pay for inflicting [Reaper's Basil] on the unsuspecting. Besides, he'd made his stance on Geyrt's beyond-hotness a matter of public record, nobody needed to guess how he felt about that, it was only natural that teasing would occur.
The humor of the Elves was short-lived. Ulric told them what he and Geyrt concluded before Christ had woken and begun his eavesdropping for maximum damage revenge.
Unfortunately, Christ and the others agreed.
"All of our scouts must be notified, they are in danger. We must place them in Hunter Triads and assume the patrols will encounter hostile forces if this is so." Said Santa, his thoughts turned to his Hunter comrades.
"It does not seem possible," Cleaver said deeply troubled. "In three thousand years there has not been a traitor in Orlethrem, not since the tribes consolidated under the current confederacy."
"Perhaps the traitor does not know that they are a traitor." Mused Twin Two.
"Indeed, the enemy may have devised a way to hide their true nature and infiltrated to a position of trust for an over naïve Lordling or Lady Wife." Said Twin One in continuance of his brother's point.
"All true, but the facts of the situation are this: The defenses of Orlethrem are compromised. Our people are already recalled to the Sanctuaries and, unless there is some form of appeal to peace, war is certain, come the spring. No, with the attack on Heir Lumyt'seit, the murder of his friend, and the slaughter in Lagranel, it is already begun." Christ spoke grimly to the group.
Turning to Ulric, the young royal guard was more formal than his usual want, reflecting the severity of the situation.
"Ulric [Lord of the Ancient Glade] we are grateful to you for your siding with the Iriel'en in this. We are here to assist you in securing your hold, but what say you to a delay in our return? We may require a few days to discover the nature of the spies who have intruded upon Elven lands. This was not a part of our orders from Lord Iriel and you are not under obligation." his erstwhile training partner turned commanding officer requested.
For Ulric's part, this was a no-brainer. He was inclined to go after whoever was running around his woods anyway, better to do it with backup. It’s dangerous to go alone, take this! He snarked to himself.
"If you didn't suggest it, I would. I won't know peace until I know who the hell we're dealing with. If they can get around in the Canopy, then they probably also know about the glade and this camp.” Ulric said, grimacing at the thought.
“Look, by all I’ve been told and seen myself, there’s things you guys call Greater beasts up there, it’s fucking spooky dangerous for one guy doing everything he can to be invisible, let alone six and trying to cover ground. How about this, we've basically got here two teams of three between us. That's two of your Triads, yeah? We can go out in two teams doing wide crisscrosses as we patrol, we'll cover more ground and, maybe, force whoever is out there to either go extremely wide of us or, even better, get caught in a pincer." Ulric suggested, trying to drive home the hazard of the forest above the forest.
Christ thought it over for a moment.
"It is a sound strategy, Ulric. They may have scried the [Forest of the Forgotten] but they will not be able to carry that advantage against us for long, none are greater than the Iriel'en at striding the wood." He promised, before laying out their plan.
"We will do this: Froka, Serlic, Nahl'ir, you will be one team. Serlic has been on duty longest as a Hunter, he will lead the Triad. I, Darla, and Ulric, with his Shadow, of course, will make up the other Triad. Geyrt, your talents as a Hunter are beyond question, will you have problems leading our Triad?"
"It will be my pleasure, Kryr'st." Geyrt said with a calm that belied her hawkish gaze.
Ulric was surprised for a moment at Christ's immediate willingness to defer his lead to another but realized that he shouldn't be. The Iriel'en soldiers were consummate professionals, the best man for the task got the job, there was no pride when business was at hand. So. Twin One, Santa, and Cleaver got one team, with Santa in charge. Ulric, Christ, and Twin Two got the other team and Geyrt would take charge. It was a plan then.
"Good enough for me." Ulric declared. "When do we go?"
The company bedded down soon after dark, the day's labors proven taxing, especially for the scouts who had rucked at least sixty kilometers while searching for the parties that had passed through the gate ahead of them. That was an average of six kilometers an hour in terrain Ulric knew firsthand to be not level and not without risk at that pace. Then again, they were Elves in a forest, who else would be better suited?
Ulric, at Geyrt's reminder, went out into the cold to do his balance exercises. To his surprise, she actually went out with him and endured the cold while he completed his ten repetitions. He appreciated that, Winter was proving to be a frigid beast up here on the Plateau, it wasn't nothing to go stand watch for a quarter-hour with the wind trying to peel the heat out of one's bones. She also made some corrections for his motions that smoothed a few of the trickier transitions. He made sure to thank her for her assistance before they returned to the relative comfort of the shelter. Shadow or no, Ulric wasn't about to take for granted that a professional scout, big game hunter, and general Elven badass was playing maid in waiting for him. Even if that had come about because she'd tried to murder him in cold blood and then, later, through premeditated deceit. He guessed that, amongst the Iriel'en, live and let live was a slightly more literal attitude.
His shelter wasn't made with so many people in mind, so while he got his bed and Geyrt got Brighteyes' old spot, the troop had arranged their bedrolls as comfortably as possible around the outside fireplace and would find repose in their tents. They were already asleep by the time the erstwhile engineer and his assassin-maid returned. Ulric lay awake for a short time watching the flames lick up the freshly placed firewood, his mind turning over the problem of the seemingly invisible people who were up here on the plateau with them. Something didn't add up.
He wasn't sure what his conscious brain had missed, but he couldn't dismiss the gnawing feeling that they were overlooking some critical evidence to explain how experienced scouts were unable to find even slight traces of passage. An errant wisp of intuition spilled cold water down his belly: The canopy. They weren't on the ground at all, he'd been wrong earlier when he discounted that option.
He thought back to the group he'd rescued Brighteyes from. There was no way those men were up in the canopy by accident. It was hilariously more dangerous to traverse those tangles of branches, winding highway-sized limbs, and the creatures that dwelt there but that was where the Not Poachers had been. And they'd pulled it off without giving alarm by nervous birds, hungry predators, or ever-alert prey. Somehow those guys had gotten the inside track, and were able to get around in a place they could never have been before. He'd bet the yak wool socks he wished he had that the new bunch had immediately gone to the tree tops from the [Ancient's Gate] instead of staying down at the ground.
How had they known to do so? It wasn't exactly along the way, the lowest branches of the [Godtrees] were three or four hundred meters up. And it wasn't like these woods were well explored, if Bald'rt was correct, there hadn't been anyone up here for thousands of years. So where were the intruders getting their information?
Once again, Ulric considered the potential for some kind of scrying, active or passive detection magic that could view remotely. With something like that, avoiding Ulric's party would be trivial. A drone or hidden eye in the sky could give an insurmountable advantage to a raiding or scouting party. Ulric would suggest that Christ lead his search team to the canopy to pick up trails tomorrow, he knew in his gut that was how their enemies were getting around. It didn't explain how they'd gotten so far without a sign of their passing, but at least it gave Christ's men a starting point. He'd ask if there were ways to prevent scry magic while he was at it. Sleep fell on him shortly thereafter.
Ulric was woken by his Shadow, her cloaked form like some kind of angel of death. But what a way to go. Yawning and giving a bone-popping stretch, Ulric climbed out of his blankets. It seems that Geyrt was the early bird, the rest of their team lay snoring in their bedrolls. The smell of wood smoke hung lightly in the cozy shelter. Accompanying it was the faint animal odor of the furs he'd been storing and that slightly earthy, empty house funk.
Before he could forget, Ulric set cross-legged on his bed and addressed the serious young woman.
"Geyrt, the men your scouts are looking for are in the canopy. They aren't traveling down here on the forest floor, they're up there." Ulric pointed upwards to accentuate his statement.
"I discounted it at first, on account of how insanely dangerous it is to travel those ways without knowing them well, but that's where the men who took Brighteyes were when I ambushed them. I think whoever is here is probably from the same place as those guys, and that they, somehow, have knowledge about the layout of the plateau. How else do two separate groups know exactly how to slip through Orlethrem, then find their way through the deep wood to get to this plateau, and then also navigate it undetected? Seems a little farfetched to me." Ulric concluded.
Geyrt thought Ulric's statements over silently for a minute absently chewing her bottom lip. When the somewhat absent glaze left her eyes she was back to laser focus. She was also pissed.
"There are traitors in Orlethrem." She hissed.
"These men have been fed information to ease their passage, they have been given the means to penetrate the wards that guard Orlethrem against magical examination. I was skeptical earlier as well, intrusions are possible without collaborators, but this is too much to be coincidence. It was just over a month ago that Lumyt'seit was taken, a second incursion so quickly is only possible with updated information, our patrol paths were drastically changed following his capture.” His Shadow informed him, before going quietly pensive.
The Elven woman’s ears flittered with agitation and she was chewing a lip aggressively. She tossed the midnight mane before sharing her conclusions.
“It would seem, if you are correct in your thinking, that these men are using the same tactics as the ones from before. All of this points to premeditation. Careful strategy. Our enemies have been planning their movements far in advance, and with help from someone close to Iriel. My people are not unversed in counter-detection magics and they are probing for such. Yet, it seems the enemy has found a way." Geyrt said with disbelieving anger.
Ulric had been chewing on the problem for long enough, ever since he'd rescued Brighteyes, turning over the sheer improbability that was meeting those men at all, to have suspicions.
"I think that I was a fly in the ointment, an unknown entity in their calculations Geyrt," Ulric told her in a hushed whisper as the hunch played out in his mind.
"It wasn't an accident that they took to the plateau, they knew the [Forest Lord] was dead and they knew they could use that window to get through without serious resistance. Maybe they even knew that a human, if an unknown one, was responsible and thought that they might get aid from their kin.” He said, reluctantly.
Ulric wouldn’t have the racial biases or hereditary attachments that would make that kind of leverage useful against him but it would make sense that whoever was about this didn’t know that. How would they anticipate a man from another world?
The Reforged confided another potential mindset of their adversaries, “It would make sense that they could, at least, be able to buy impartiality. Whoever is conducting this campaign, they have serious Fuck You money. Operatives that can evade Elves can’t be cheap, nor can the skills that bypass the magical shrouds that have shielded your lands.”
He only briefly considered leaving off his next thoughts, but, it was best to keep things out in the open.
“There is also the fact that, if they knew a human was up here, even if they weren’t certain of his allegiances or connections, they’d have little trouble passing off Brighteyes’ abduction as the work of somebody else, covering their tracks when your Hunters came up here and killed me in my sleep.”
Geyrt frowned but didn’t object to that last statement.
Because he was without grace at all, Ulric drove the point home, as it represented a potential weakness to his pointy-eared allies.
“Your kin are no friends to outsiders Geyrt, I'm not under any illusions about how my presence would have been taken had I not stopped Brighteyes' kidnapping and been discovered by your people without his aegis. Strong as your folk are, dominant within your own domain you may be, but insular peoples always develop habits and blind spots that can be taken advantage of by observant parties."
"Now," Ulric whispered, "What are we going to do about it?"
That question caught his Shadow off guard. She looked askance at him, like a new puzzle piece had been added to the stack she was already working on and she didn't quite know how it fit.
"You are willing to help us in this?" She asked bluntly.
"Forgive my saying, Glade Chief, but this is a matter for Elves. As much as I want to be with my people, as much as I want to go put arrows in the scum who break our peace, I am your Shadow now, and it would be breaking my oath to do less than I might by putting your interests behind my kin. You do not owe us this, it is enough that you have helped my little brother return home and exposed the threat to our lands. Why would you do this for those to whom you owe nothing, whom you have only just met?"
It was Ulric's turn to be tossed a curveball. She wasn’t wrong. Why did he care so much? All he'd wanted since he got to this world was to be largely left alone to live and do as he saw fit. Part of him wanted to develop his glade home into a wilderness homestead that would bring him comfort and a satisfying life of stewarding the land. Another part wanted to stay put only long enough to grow in his strength to be confident in handling himself so that he could go explore this strange new world. Ever since he'd met Brighteyes those goals had only been slightly refined as he had wanted to make the potent Elves allies, if possible, and a neutral party, if not.
In the month or so since he'd met Brighteyes, something had changed, especially since he'd journeyed to Irielhos and been made welcome in the home of the Deep Wood folk. As he turned it over in his mind, his fingers snapping rhythmically by his side, he decided what the turning point had been: He liked them. Ulric genuinely liked these people. They were honest, diligent, stern but compassionate, surprisingly spontaneous and whimsical, at times, and they lived in a harmony with the world that Ulric had never dreamed possible. Maybe they weren't the most inclusive folk, but then, Ulric wouldn't have been either if he had things dialed in as well as they had and had something to protect as fiercely as they did.
Which, he realized, he did. There were strangers on his plateau and it pissed him off. They weren't welcome, they didn't belong, and he'd be damned if he let them get away with trespassing. Ulric could sympathize with these Elves. They lived long enough to witness the gross short-sightedness and selfishness of humans. Every few hundred years, a third of their lifespans, they had to endure incursions and attacks that cost them family, friends, and lovers known for centuries. How could they not view humanity with suspicion and hostility? Just when they'd gotten things settled, they would have to clean up another human mess. The real mystery was why they hadn't just wiped out the people of Prespang?
It wasn't in their nature, Ulric decided. The Elves were, fundamentally, grove tenders. They loved life and nurturing it to growth, you could see it in all aspects of their culture and, most obviously, in their architecture. They worshipped all things growing. They made war because they had to and the Iriel'en had taken that role upon themselves most especially. Probably to spare the rest of the necessity, as much as possible. So, if the Iriel'en seemed to have the attitude of a Comanche raiding party it was probably because they'd been forced to be something they, at an instinctive level, abhorred. Only, the catch-22 was that Aes'r he'd met felt compelled to do things in whole parts, it was damned near an Iriel'en phenotype. If warriors and guardians they had to be, then they would do it with nothing held back and with full resentment towards those that made it necessary. No wonder the Iriel'en were such hardcases. He hadn't met the other tribes, he couldn’t say how much of his observations he could generalize to the rest of Orlethrem but he felt like, for the deep woods kin, he had a bead on what moved them.
It had been a long moment Ulric realized. He'd gone silent as he thought out what factors had driven him to feel like he needed to help the Elves. He thought of Hal'et. Fierce, playful, laughing, burning gloriously Hal'et. She encompassed the joy for life he found so marvelous in Elvendom. It didn't hurt his attitudes that she had made his world move. Repeatedly. He shook himself to dispel that sorceress and wiped the budding smile off his face. Focus, you randy bastard, We’re Talking.
"Against their better judgement, your people have been good to me Geyrt. Your little brother was my first friend in this strange world. Your father is a goofy, plotting, maniacal, powerful asshole and I respect him for it because he does it all to keep his kin safe. You might be a cold-blooded, bushwhacking, assassin lady, but you were pushed into that by those otherkin in Prespang refusing to just act like decent people." Ulric explained to her.
Geyrt frowned briefly when he described her but then nodded, accepting it as a true statement for an outsider. To a non-Elf, a non-Iriel'en, that was basically exactly what she was.
Ulric went on, "Since I was a boy, I have hated my own people for being unable to think past their own short lives and for being so unwilling to make small sacrifices for the good of their neighbors, to say nothing of their own world. You have to understand Geyrt, the humans of my homeland crippled their own world. They took from it, wasted it, exploited everything they could, each other included, until they brought themselves to the edge of extinction.”
Even he was surprised at the outrage and open contempt leaden in his voice. He’d come to simmering fury at the memory of it.
“I was born just outside the crisis, a bare century after we turned back from the brink. And, even so close to the edge, we weren't satisfied. I am a product of my people and we never learned to be happy. To coexist in peace. It was an instinct, some bone-deep need we had to push into the unknown, to expand."
"Is this why you are worms in the head all of the time?" His Shadow asked, without sarcasm.
"Probably, yeah." Ulric answered honestly. "Believe it or not, I've settled down quite a bit since I was reborn here. I decided, early on, in this place that is as a paradise lost by my homeland, that I wasn't going to bring the bullshit that made me miserable in that old world with me into this one. It isn't easy, habits are hard to break, but I'm trying. In a way, your people are a model from which to learn. I don't want to be an Elf, but there are things that Elves do, attitudes they have, that are in line with becoming the man I want to be." He admitted.
"And this is why you would help my kin?" She prompted, adopting a thoughtful expression, at odds with her usual resting bitch face.
"Being good to good people is reason enough, isn't it?" He challenged, thinking to the transactional attitudes of his old life that had bred an internalized, almost casual, cruelty that had pervaded society throughout human history.
"If we would all do the right thing, because it was the right thing, there'd be a great godsdamned less suffering in the world. On the other hand, sometimes some people just need killing, kindness is wasted on them. They can't be reasoned with, they won't back down from their prime directive to poison every well from which they drink, and they won't be happy until they've taken everything they can and destroyed everything they can't. Those people ruined my world. I think I'll use the Watcher's gifts in this life to kill those people wherever I find them, like pruning a tree of the rotten bits so the rest can grow correctly." Ulric reasoned.
It wasn't much of a philosophy but it would do for him. The Dao of Some Fuckers Just Need to Die wasn't for everyone, but, for a cynical dick like him, it was definitely the only correct way to respond to the insanity of the world. Justice was great, right up until you realized the law was really only as good as the ones who wrote it, and it only served those who could enforce it, whenever they chose to do so. History made that out to be, more or less, a game of numbers. Every couple of hundred years, the law would become weaponized against the populace to the point that they would discard it, guillotine all the nobles in public squares, and start over. Nothing was learned. He was bitter about that, most of all.
The beautiful huntress standing nearby came to a decision.
"I may have been wrong about you Ulric. You are worms in the head. You can also be insufferably obnoxious, an "asshole" as you call it. But you aren't a bad person." Geyrt Iriel pronounced.
"You know something Geyrt?" Ulric recalled, "That's exactly the first thing your brother said to me."
The two of them lapsed into a, for him, awkward silence.
"Would the two of you like some alone time?" Christ said suddenly, loudly breaking the moment.
"We can find some task to occupy ourselves, if you like, Glade Chief. Worry not, there is no precedent against enjoying a bit of sheet ruining with one's Shadow, if they are willing. I can be your second, if you fear you will not survive the encounter, Bald'rt's eldest daughter is not a conquest lightly taken and you may not live to see the end of her pleasure." Announced the grinning Elf from the doorway.
Ulric found himself caught off guard, embarrassed by the suggestion, especially as it was something he rather steadfastly avoided thinking about. He had trouble enough dealing with his Shadow, without having that to worry about. They'd almost achieved a certain comfortableness to their relationship over the past ten days. The tips of Geyrt's ears had reddened and her face was a thunderhead, promising lightnings. She was going to do something rash if he didn't head this off. Hurriedly, Ulric cut off whatever brewing violence his abrasive body guard was going to offer.
"Thanks Christ, but I am sure we have better things to do today than indulge your profane fantasies. It wouldn't do to put my guests into the cold while I make them, at first, awkwardly uncomfortable and then, later, mindlessly jealous." He said with feigned regret.
"Besides, if I wanted to commit suicide, I'm sure there are way less painful ways to do it than by playing pin the tail on the [Shadow Panther]." That last he threw out to help assuage Geyrt's pride.
She wouldn't appreciate anyone making any assumptions on her account. He certainly wouldn't, were he in her place.
It seemed to work, to some degree. His Shadow didn't look like she was going to start peeling bits off of anybody, not right away, and the laughter of the rest of the warriors made the joking suggestion clear to be only that. Fucking Elves. They had the comedic sense of a mosquito, finding all the itchy bits and diving straight for them. No wonder duels were a norm in their culture.
Ulric was going to chalk Christ's little ambush up to revenge for dinner. A little embarrassment was fine, an easy price to pay for inflicting [Reaper's Basil] on the unsuspecting. Besides, he'd made his stance on Geyrt's beyond-hotness a matter of public record, nobody needed to guess how he felt about that, it was only natural that teasing would occur.
The humor of the Elves was short-lived. Ulric told them what he and Geyrt concluded before Christ had woken and begun his eavesdropping for maximum damage revenge.
Unfortunately, Christ and the others agreed.
"All of our scouts must be notified, they are in danger. We must place them in Hunter Triads and assume the patrols will encounter hostile forces if this is so." Said Santa, his thoughts turned to his Hunter comrades.
"It does not seem possible," Cleaver said deeply troubled. "In three thousand years there has not been a traitor in Orlethrem, not since the tribes consolidated under the current confederacy."
"Perhaps the traitor does not know that they are a traitor." Mused Twin Two.
"Indeed, the enemy may have devised a way to hide their true nature and infiltrated to a position of trust for an over naïve Lordling or Lady Wife." Said Twin One in continuance of his brother's point.
"All true, but the facts of the situation are this: The defenses of Orlethrem are compromised. Our people are already recalled to the Sanctuaries and, unless there is some form of appeal to peace, war is certain, come the spring. No, with the attack on Heir Lumyt'seit, the murder of his friend, and the slaughter in Lagranel, it is already begun." Christ spoke grimly to the group.
Turning to Ulric, the young royal guard was more formal than his usual want, reflecting the severity of the situation.
"Ulric [Lord of the Ancient Glade] we are grateful to you for your siding with the Iriel'en in this. We are here to assist you in securing your hold, but what say you to a delay in our return? We may require a few days to discover the nature of the spies who have intruded upon Elven lands. This was not a part of our orders from Lord Iriel and you are not under obligation." his erstwhile training partner turned commanding officer requested.
For Ulric's part, this was a no-brainer. He was inclined to go after whoever was running around his woods anyway, better to do it with backup. It’s dangerous to go alone, take this! He snarked to himself.
"If you didn't suggest it, I would. I won't know peace until I know who the hell we're dealing with. If they can get around in the Canopy, then they probably also know about the glade and this camp.” Ulric said, grimacing at the thought.
“Look, by all I’ve been told and seen myself, there’s things you guys call Greater beasts up there, it’s fucking spooky dangerous for one guy doing everything he can to be invisible, let alone six and trying to cover ground. How about this, we've basically got here two teams of three between us. That's two of your Triads, yeah? We can go out in two teams doing wide crisscrosses as we patrol, we'll cover more ground and, maybe, force whoever is out there to either go extremely wide of us or, even better, get caught in a pincer." Ulric suggested, trying to drive home the hazard of the forest above the forest.
Christ thought it over for a moment.
"It is a sound strategy, Ulric. They may have scried the [Forest of the Forgotten] but they will not be able to carry that advantage against us for long, none are greater than the Iriel'en at striding the wood." He promised, before laying out their plan.
"We will do this: Froka, Serlic, Nahl'ir, you will be one team. Serlic has been on duty longest as a Hunter, he will lead the Triad. I, Darla, and Ulric, with his Shadow, of course, will make up the other Triad. Geyrt, your talents as a Hunter are beyond question, will you have problems leading our Triad?"
"It will be my pleasure, Kryr'st." Geyrt said with a calm that belied her hawkish gaze.
Ulric was surprised for a moment at Christ's immediate willingness to defer his lead to another but realized that he shouldn't be. The Iriel'en soldiers were consummate professionals, the best man for the task got the job, there was no pride when business was at hand. So. Twin One, Santa, and Cleaver got one team, with Santa in charge. Ulric, Christ, and Twin Two got the other team and Geyrt would take charge. It was a plan then.
"Good enough for me." Ulric declared. "When do we go?"
