Chapter 2-58

Saoirse emerged from the dark hall like an avatar of blood and terror. And in a way, that’s exactly what she was. I immediately recognized her powerful, bloodthirsty spirit, with its ragged edge of instability. She soaked in the mana left by our conflict, it saturated the room, and so she had no shortage of power to draw upon. A reaper, like Ket, she thrived in an environment filled with ****.

I realized that I hadn’t seen her from the time the company approached the courtyard entrance. She must have circled around with the group we sent to block the far entrance. I might have been annoyed that she ignored the main battle, but right now she was exactly where we needed her.

The last remaining monk didn’t pause or hesitate. His disregard for pain and trauma was impressive, though unsurprising in anyone who had survived Entreyu’s tutelage. And now he led only a field of corpses, so there was no one left to distract him. Trapped between the company behind him, and a raging shifter ahead, he chose ahead.

With a spear clad in sunfire, the monk stabbed at Saoirse, his movements fast as lightning, but their aspects seemed almost perfectly opposed, their mana devouring one another in equal measure, and the shifter had a far greater well to draw from. I had to give the man credit, he was skilled, and knew how to fight a shifter.

As the monk’s movements slowed I was able to watch him through a dozen pairs of eyes as he spun and thrust his weapon with consummate grace and blinding speed, attempting to pierce Saoirse’s real body within her feline avatar. I couldn’t say whether he succeeded or not, but she didn’t slow, nor did her form bleed. Instead each strike diminished his presence, causing his golden aura to gutter like a lamp running low on oil. And during this time, Saoirse wasn’t idle.

The leopard shifter quickly wet her fangs and claws with the monk’s blood. She didn’t hold out for telling blows, but took every opportunity to lay even a scratch on him. The reason for this was quickly apparent, as even the least of his cuts poured forth a steady stream of crimson, her power pulling forth his vital fluid in excessive measure. Clearly seeing his disadvantage in any extended battle, the Pure leader began cauterizing the wounds, and fought to surge past his opponent into the hall.

It was to no avail. Saoirse had delayed him more than long enough for the company to catch up. Although they couldn’t interfere at first, as the monk slowed they were able to make their presence known. Myta swiped her glaive across the back of his ankle when his foot slid back just a little too far, then Hati’s improvised hammer hit his shoulder with a wet crunch. Finally the shifter ripped out his throat with her claws, tossing aside the excised bit of flesh like garbage, as the man burbled wetly in an aborted scream.

The intensity of the battle, and the strength of my court, allowed me to usher all the spirits that rose into my domain. We lost three members of our company, but I was able to ensure they each had enough mana to leave remnants behind. Perhaps that was selfish or unwise, spirits were distinct from the people they rose from after all, and that mana might have been put to better use by the living.

Still, it soothed my heart to have the spirits as a kind of living memorial. All of the company had placed themselves in my care, and though it was their choice, I still felt the weight of their deaths on my conscience.

“This could not have gone better,” Siobhan consoled me as we cleared be battlefield. “We were outnumbered two to one, and faced the enemy in their own stronghold.”

Myta and I both nodded, knowing the truth of her words, but unable to truly accept them. It was one thing to know that we would pay a cost in blood, but another to experience it. I had known **** before, of course. Nearly my entire country had been put to the sword, and I’d lost patients, lost friends to old age. But in this case I’d brought these warriors to their deaths, not simply failed to save them. The distinction ate at me.

We gained a wealth of resources from our fallen enemies in the form of infused weapons and armor. But the true reward was in freeing more than thirty captives, most of whom were shifters from various Metic clans. There were even a handful of druids among the prisoners as well. They had all been starved and tortured, some for as little as a few days, others for months. Each of them, without exception, had been branded with a divine tune of hatred.

“I think their choice of hideout worked against them in at least one regard.” I noted to Oistin and Riona. “These ruins block the passage of mana, and even interfere with the Radiant Sea. Just as it becomes difficult to use the bond across the threshold, I think the monolith blunted the effect of these runes.”

“Perhaps,” Riona replied, “I can see how that could be, but they need to get out of this place, the sooner the better. And those scars won’t just disappear.”

“I can heal them.” I chuckled a little at the irony. “The conflicts with the Pure have shown me how to reliably heal such scars, but it will take time, during which I think they should remain.” I looked at the Clan Math druid. “Is that acceptable? You said we were free to investigate, but this would mean weeks of remaining in Math lands, in an ancient ruin no less.”

“I’ll see to it.” Oistin’s tone told me that he expected opposition, but that he would brook no dissent. “Nine of them are of Clan Math, and all are of the clans. You will have the time you need.”

“Thank you,” I inclined my head to the large man. “I will spend the next few days healing my own spirit, then I will remove their runes. Will you observe? It would be helpful to me if I had witnesses, and you might find some way to replicate my technique.”

“I can watch, but Niamh Fia is the one of your visitors who might get some use from that.” Riona sounded cautious as she spoke.

“I haven’t spoken with her much, she’s a healer isn’t she?”

“Aye. Many in Clan Fia work closely with sorcerers outside of Metic. Niamh said she was coming along to keep an eye on you.”

Fiona’s tone was carefully neutral, but Oistin laughed at that.

“Is she an issue?” I raised my brow, not sure what the druid was dancing around.

“Fia druids are said by some to almost be sorcerers themselves.” Riona shook her head. “Niamh is a skilled healer, but many in the clans see her as an outsider. If she vouches for you though, the other druids will listen.”

“I’ll ask her then, but I’d still prefer if you were there.” Both of them nodded in acceptance, and I let out a sigh.

“How can I show myself to be trustworthy?” I asked aloud, but didn’t really expect an answer. “I want to defend Metic from the Pure, to help preserve and heal the land. But I don’t know how to prove it.”

“Become a druid.”I laughed at Oistin’s words, but neither he nor Riona did. She, in fact, had a considering look on her face, and was nodding slowly.

“I don’t think your fellows would appreciate you giving me that title.” I said cautiously. Now the blacksmith did laugh, and Riona smiled thinly.

“Druid isn’t a title, not really,” she explained. “It’s a description. Those with certain skills are called druids, whether they were trained by us or not. Even if they aren’t part of the clans.

“The real problem,” the stern woman continued, “is that those skills are very difficult for a sorcerer to learn.”

“Sorcerers speak, druids listen.” The blacksmith’s contribution, while cryptic, gave me some understanding of the problem.

“If the skills are so different, is it even possible to be both?”

“Aye,” the runemaster still looked uncertain, but she nodded anyway. “The clans have legends of those who were both shifters and druids, and the Tribeta woodweavers walk both paths.”

“So myths, and inhuman immortals have done it.” My words were skeptical, but I couldn’t deny the thrill of challenge that rose in me at the idea. Oisten shrugged, but he gave me a sly grin when he caught my expression of intrigue.

“Putting that aside, the captives are my priority.” I shook off my daydreams. “First I need to heal my spirit, then see what I can do for them.”

“As it should be. The clan elders have already agreed that there is no debt for any who become your vas.”

Sati, who had thus far been listening silently, made a warning noise in her throat. Even I could read between those lines, however.

“How many of the clan heads will want to kill me for it though?” I shook my head wryly. “I don’t even know how many of their bonds might transfer, I don’t understand them well enough.”

“Any druid understands that you can’t **** the bonds without leaving evidence, but even some of our number will suspect you of creating this situation.” Riona said. “And most clan heads become shifters, not druids. The elders will speak for you, but more than that I cannot say.”

“Not like it will change my actions, but thank you for bringing it up.” I noticed that neither druid commented on how many of the bonds were likely to shift, or what exactly might affect that number. I wasn’t sure if they didn’t know, or weren’t able to say.

I took some time visiting with the prisoners, inviting all of my Metic companions to come with me. From Siobhan’s entourage only Riona joined our grim procession, but the delegates from the other clans all came. I took the opportunity to size up Niamh, who offered back a look of frank appraisal.

The blond healer was unphased by the scenes of misery we proceeded to examine, but her eyes were kind. I approved of her immediately, and I was glad that she was the one who would be most closely monitoring my work. Not that I’d be performing much sorcery yet.

“I have a fair amount of supplements to aid in the recovery of invalids.” I noted. “Things that are easy on the body, but rich in nutrients. They should tide your people over until my spirit is restored, and I can more proactively heal them.”

Room by room we went, freeing the captives from their bonds, and treating their infected, seeping wounds. All of them were awakened, and so the Pure had felt little need to maintain their health. Not only were they resilient, but Entreyu’s servants had seen them as disposable fodder, rather than people, or even valuable resources. More than once Myta or the druids needed to intervene to either calm or restrain my new patients.

But I made sure that every prisoner was released from their bindings, if not their cells, before I returned to healing my spirit. I needed to plant the seed, even in the ones whose minds were farthest gone, that they could soon escape this nightmare.