Book 6: Chapter 20 |
FIVE DAYS HAD PASSED since my fairies returned. And while the news they brought might not have been the happiest, it still made me sigh with relief. The lack of any means of rapid communication, let alone the virtually-instantaneous communication I had been used to in my old life, gave rise to an agonizing feeling of uncertainty. It was hard to plan and prepare for anything when you really didn’t know what you were planning and preparing for.
Thanks to my own foresight and the diligent work of my helpers, however, I finally knew what we would need to be ready to face. A 5,000-strong force was moving toward us from the northeast. A thousand red cloaks, 3,500 Atalian legionaries, and 500 crossbowmen. Besides that, they were bringing several siege engines with them.
If the information that Cesare di Nobile had so obligingly shared with me was correct, the army blocking the Gray Foothills didn’t have any avants with it — just six powerful mediuses and something like ten experts.
I gave the fairies a clear order right from the start: if they spotted an enemy army, they were not to get anywhere near it under any circumstances. They should just get a rough estimate of the number of soldiers from a distance and come back to me. Because if the “Scarlet” knights had soulcatchers with them, my assistants wouldn’t be able to save themselves from the shades. They still weren’t strong enough to stand up to monsters like that... Nonetheless, Vaira managed to sense the presence of five strykers among the red cloaks.
Which, of course, was the reason why Alberto di Lanzi wasn’t in a hurry. He was waiting for reinforcements.
That very night, I called an emergency session of our council of war and informed them that another force was headed our way. I’ll be honest — the calm reaction I received when I shared this news was a little bit of a surprise to me. Even the city elders reacted calmly. Only when I saw how all the commanders were looking at me after I finished speaking did I finally realize who I really was in the eyes of all these people.
Previously, in my old life, I only really had three people I was close to: Vadoma, who raised me, Mamoru Yamada, who first laid a sword in my hands, and Thais, who became like a sister to me. I had always been a loner. In this new life, however, my circle was growing by the day. Besides them, there were thousands of people I didn’t really know at all who had nevertheless placed their trust in me, and whose lives would depend directly on my decisions.
Of course, I couldn’t really call all these people close friends yet, but I understood that this was the way that people in ancient times had chosen the first leaders and formed themselves into a support system that that leader would later be able to rely on in times of need.
To be honest, I had never expected things to take such a turn. I had a plan from the start: to live out my last life in as much comfort as I possibly could. Sure, the realities on the ground forced me to take some risks right from the start, but now things were on a whole new level. The more I advanced, the deeper I was wading into this military conflict, a conflict I would have liked to avoid participating in at all.
And that was a huge shift in status, especially in this new world. The last rung on this particular ladder would be turning myself into an independent political leader. After all, I knew very well how such people usually ended up.
The original plan was to slowly but surely bring my goals to fruition — the goals I had conceived and modified as I began getting acquainted with this new world. But the plan was constantly changing and acquiring more and more details, like a bare skeleton gradually growing flesh and skin.
The higher I rose on the reputational ladder, the more previously-unseen details began to crop up in my path. For example: it turned out that evading, or flat-out refusing, to join a mages’ guild simply wasn’t an option. The King himself had recommended I do so, and quickly. True, this requirement was deferred thanks to my special mission, but sooner or later the question would come up again, and I would have to face it.
Besides, I would need legitimacy for my future “Shadow” business in my Margraviate, as well as for the enterprise I was building in Toulon with my associates there. And I didn’t want competition from the Amber Guild on my land.
All of this led me to the idea of creating my own magic guild, which would practice all the sub-disciplines of magic in an absolutely above-board, legally-sanctioned fashion. Artifacts, potions, training for strykers and healers — the prospects were simply breathtaking.
The Margraviate de Valier was absolutely perfect for it. A quiet place. Far from the capital and the King, as well as the other guilds. I had already taken some concrete steps.
For example, I assigned the nisse to start collecting information about all the true gifted and first-born who might be open to the idea of migrating to my Margraviate.
I didn’t forget the Shadow mages, either. Prior to setting off on campaign, I sent Monsieur Dormal to Abbeville with a message for Ursula Hoog, the owner of the weapons shop where I had first laid eyes on a set of stryker armor.
I wasn’t counting on a favorable reply to my proposition that she first move to the capital, then to my Margraviate once the conditions were right. As I recall, our first and only meeting up to that point (not counting her presence in the audience at my duel with the long-nosed Viscount) had ended on a less-than-positive note.
But Ursula Hoog surprised me — she agreed to move to Herouxville as soon as possible, together with her entire laboratory. So that was where my little flotilla headed, under the protection of Erika Bern, who also had instructions to stop in at Sardent on the way to check in with Tomcat and sell anything they could get a decent profit for while they were at it.
By the way, Monsieur Robert also accepted my invitation to join up with Monsieur Dormal’s party and move to Herouxville. This was the doctor who had sold Bertrand the potion made of red brut powder, who had shown himself brave enough to step into an argument on my valet’s behalf. With my support, he opened a healer’s practice in the rapidly-transforming merchants’ district, where he was soon busy taking care of a certain very important task for me. In my turn, I made sure he had a good supply of healing potions before I left the city.
In the future, my magic guild would gradually transform into the most powerful, most influential corporation on the continent. The key word, however, was “gradually.” At the moment, I knew I still wasn’t strong enough to compete with the powers-that-be. True, that definitely didn’t mean I planned to plop down onto my bed and twiddle my thumbs instead. Given that I had already waded knee-deep into this cesspool, I intended to get out of it by any means necessary. And ideally make a profit at the same time...
The news that a force of Atalians was heading to reinforce the Gray Reaper spread like wildfire through the city. But the people of Gondreville, seeing that we weren’t planning to take off and leave them to their fate, just redoubled their efforts to prepare for a siege.
I had spent the preceding five days combing the city from top to bottom. I checked every little nook and cranny, every little dark corner of every little room. Not a single hour passed where someone didn’t come running to ask me for something. That very evening, the hejdelf had come by with my fairies to remind me that it was time for a ritual.
It turned out that every ten years, the true gifted and first-born of this world would celebrate the beginning of a so-called “new cycle.” And it just so happened that a ritual to mark this event was required that night.
The nisse had already been talking my ear off about the ritual for some time. Saying that it was one of the most important nights in the life of any true gifted or first-born. She said it was the time when the most powerful of the gifted could sense the Power of this world. Basically, in all the hubbub and preparation for the siege, I had completely forgotten about it. But the hejdelf and fairies reminded me in time.
Once night fell, I would have to venture into the old woods at the foot of the mountain. Lorin warned me that every true gifted and first-born had to make it to their destination without any help, relying solely on their own senses.
His words sounded strange to me, right up until the moment when, late in the evening, I suddenly felt my inner fox awaken...
* * *
I walked out of the city under cover of darkness, headed toward the rapidly-blackening forest in the distance. As I walked toward the foot of the mountain, I had the distinct sensation that I wasn’t walking alone. At a considerable distance all around me, neither approaching nor moving away, were several dozen other creatures.
Finally, I reached a clearing...
The twilight darkness merged with the inky gloom of the forest, and every rustle and smell, all combined to create a picture that was simply invisible to the eye of a normal human. As a spellsword, in tune with my fox nature, I could see this enigmatic world, where every blade of grass and every leaf came to life in the light of the nearest stars. At the foot of a nameless mountain, where ancient forces slept, this centuries-old forest was shrouded in secrecy. And it was precisely at this time of year when life began to take on special colors.
For a moment, it seemed to me that I had gone back in time, to a prehistoric era. That’s how intense the sense of ancientness was in that forest, on that mountain.
The smell of the summer night was intensely saturated. The astringent smell of pitch from the pines, the earthy aroma of the ground cooling after a hot day under the sun, mixed in with the subtler smells of nighttime flowers and grasses. The bouquet was completed by the sense of witchery and secrecy that only the chosen could really access.
My vulpine sense of smell allowed me to catch every little note in the whole wild symphony and break down the aromas into their component parts. I could read them like ancient runes.
The sounds of the forest at night were a whole universe unto themselves. Rustling leaves, barely audible but nevertheless all-encompassing, created the sensation of invisible beings walking alongside me. A far-off, many-voice howl from a pack of wolves, piercing and agitating, tinged the air with expectation of unknown things to come. An owl, mistress of the night sky, hooted nearby, which added to the mystique of the scene. My ears were catching every sound, decoding them like messages from the forest itself.
The physical sensations were enhanced by my uninterrupted connection with the forest. The humidity in the cool, refreshing night air penetrated my clothes as if it were the night’s own fingers. The path beneath my feet, known only to the forest’s resident animals, led me through a thicket, leaving the sensations of grass and branches brushing against my skin — guides in this primordial world. Climbing the mountain slope gave me a feeling of freedom and power. My fox’s eye cut through the darkness and caught everything around me, while my animal nature filled me to the brim, suppressing the human in me and allowing the predator to awaken.
These sensations brought me back to the distant past. Back to when I was still a little kid, and Vadoma was teaching me to control my inner Fox.
This night was truly special. I perceived it through the prism of my unique abilities, and every step along the animals’ trail, every breath of aromatic, astringent air was filled with deep meaning that connected me to the nature around me. I had never experienced anything like it.
I was a person from another world, a stranger, but I suddenly realized that I had always been a part of this forest, its secret guardian and a son of this planet, led by my inner animal and filled with the ancient wisdom that floated through the boughs of the gigantic trees at the foot of this nameless mountain.
This night was truly unlike other nights. The true gifted and first-born called it the “Night of the Reborn Moon.” The stars were aligned into ancient patterns that presaged rebirth and renewal. The world’s energy became so dense that the air was positively shaking with the anticipation of changes to come, and the earth itself seemed to be alive and ready for awakening.
With every step along this path that was known only to the initiated, I could sense my body filling with strength. The moonlight seemed brighter as it pierced through the trees; every drop of dew on the grass and leaves looked like a little diamond, reflecting the vastness of the sky in its miniature facets.
The deeper I went into the forest, the taller the trees seemed to be. Their roots and leaves seemed to be whispering secrets to me in some ancient tongue. Slowly, the sounds of the night forest turned into a symphony. I could hear resounding percussion and an even, many-throated chorus of animals. They sang a hymn to the new beginning. I sped up, driven onward by the feeling that a miracle was about to happen.
I knew that this night would require every ounce of concentration I could bring to bear. Every last drop of my strength. The full power of an auring.
My pockets were full of bruts — the biggest ones of every color. That was just in case I ended up depleting my internal reservoir.
I would meet the first rays of the rising sun at the top of the mountain, where earth and heaven met, and bear witness to the exact moment when the new cycle started. The nisse told me that that was the time when the ancient forces renewed their sacredness, and the mighty spirits of the forests and mountains pronounced their blessings. For the first time in several centuries, this part of the world would see a ritual of mass transfiguration take place.
I climbed higher and higher, feeling the living rock beneath my feet like an ancient fortress. This was no longer the same animal track; it was a staircase hewn from raw stone by some unknown master. My fox nature faded into the background. I was being led on by my new Power.
With every step, the drumbeat and the many-voiced chorus grew louder and louder. Finally, I passed the invisible barrier that divided darkness from light and found myself on a wide, round plaza, paved with stones, with a gigantic bonfire roaring in its center. All around it, true gifted whirled and flitted past in an indescribable dance. There were several hundred of them, maybe more. Young and old, male and female, most of them either shapeshifters or Glenns.
The massive, centuries-old oaks surrounding the plaza raised their branches to the sky like muscular, sinewy old men stretching their arms out to the stars. Tongues of flame rippled into the air to dispel the darkness in a sort of primordial dance, as if trying to flit their way into the darkest and most distant corners of the forest. They threw quivering shadows against the wall of living trees.
The figures flitting past between me and the fire — sometimes human, sometimes animal — blurred smoothly from one into another to the beat of the ancient rhythm. Their movements were full of passion and savagery, reflecting the fusion of their ancient natures with that of the natural world around them. They were spinning, sometimes blurring into the flames, sometimes moving away from them in a whirlwind of shadow and light, seemingly the incarnation of the balance between darkness and light, between humanity and animalism.
There was no room for fear, no room for doubt. Every step, every jump was full of power and confidence in that power. The sounds of the night forest flowed together with their grunts and howls to create a magical symphony of nature in all its savage beauty. The fire seemed to be alive and reacting to every movement; sometimes it would flash brighter, sometimes it seemed about to go out entirely, every change in unison with the creatures around it. Their souls seemed every bit as ancient as the fire itself.
The dance of the true gifted around the fire wasn’t just a ritual, though — it was an awakening, the rebirth of their true nature, a celebration of freedom and the power given to them by this night. In the midst of this whirlpool of flames and shadows, everyone found a connection to the ancient forces that had ruled the world long before the dawn of humanity. It was a reminder that in the depths of their hearts there was something that could never be subdued.
It was what I felt, too, when I realized that at some point I had joined the ranks of these dancers...
And then the dance stopped. The drums fell silent. Slowly, all the true gifted stepped aside to form a circle, with me at its center.
A gigantic black wolf was first to step out from the ranks of the shapeshifters. Despite the fact that he was in his beast form, I recognized him immediately. It was Jean-Claude de Bacri, the leader of the mountain men.
His fur was a deep black color, thick and glossy like thick pitch. A yellow, animalistic light shone in his eyes, reflecting the light of the fire. Every step he took showed a confidence and strength that could only be imparted to a creature like this, born from the very depths of the natural world. The dense knots of muscle under his hide moved with the surprising grace of a formidable predator. Saliva was dripping from his long fangs, and the dagger-sized claws on his hind legs left shallow scratches in the stone as he walked.
The scene was silent as the majestic beast approached me, as if the forest itself was holding its breath in anticipation of a climactic moment.
The werewolf bent his head in a gesture of respect, a recognition of my primacy in this natural world. Our eyes met. I could see more than just power in the werewolf’s eyes — there was also a silent request. I understood him without words. He was asking me whether I would accept him into my pack.
With demonstrative slowness, I stretched my right hand out in front of me and laid it on the werewolf’s head. A moment later, a small mass of energy from my energy system flowed down into the beast. As it did so, I could feel that the transformative effect was more powerful this time.
The true gifted watched the whole scene with eyes wide open. And when the werewolf sensed my energy flowing into him, thereby connecting his fate with mine, the unexpectedness of it all made him fall to the ground. A sigh suddenly rippled through the ranks of the onlookers.
Meanwhile, the gigantic wolf shook his huge head, got back up onto all four paws, and looked at me. I could see disbelief and awe in his eyes. And I could see the reason for them, too. His entire energy structure was literally seething — it was positively overflowing with energy.
A second later, the werewolf raised his mighty head to the sky and let out a long, loud howl. The other shapeshifters joined in.
From there, everything happened as if in a dream. One by one, the true gifted approached me, and each received a small portion of my power. Besides shapeshifters, all the Glenns from the Mertonian unit were there as well. Hilaire Reese was one of them; eventually, his turn came, and he knelt down before me and received some of my mana too. As did the hejdelf.
Last in line was a massive snow leopard. The giant white cat lowered its head obediently in front of me.
“Are you sure?” I asked her.
All I got for an answer was a low, confident growl.
* * *
Toward midday, I was standing on the eastern wall, watching a large company of mountain men moving toward the forest that loomed dark at the foot of the mountain.
“Are the werewolves leaving?” Leo von Grimm asked from where he stood beside me.
“Leaving?” I asked with a chuckle. “No, Leo. Baron de Bacri is going to remind the red cloaks who this land belongs to.”