BlueShear
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Chapters 27-28
🕑 Added 2024-10-07 05:33:22 +0000 UTCJun ran faster than he ever had in his life. He careened through the cave system, taking turns at random, and shearing through obstacles as he went. It was a wonder that, after each new corner he took, there always seemed to be yet another way forward. Either this cave system was truly massive, or he was burning through his luck at an expeditious rate. In the latter case, he could only hope his string of good fortune continued. Otherwise, he was going to be in a world of hurt.
On the bright side, he and Ivory had managed to outpace many of their pursuers. On the other, two of them were still hot on their heels. Able to match his pace with relative ease, despite his circulation being pushed to its absolute limits. And not only were they keeping pace with them, but they were actually starting to gain on them. Loping forward like bats out of hell, they were nightmare fuel on four legs. With flashing teeth, beady eyes, and saliva dripping from vicious canines, their four-inch claws dug divots in the hard stone—every long lope accompanied by a trail of orange sparks. They didn’t appear to be tiring either. Unlike Jun, who was almost on his last legs.
Panic began to creep up on him then, and almost reflexively he flared out his cutting aura to combat it. In an instant, cold rationality reasserted itself, and a detached sense of calm settled over his mind.
Able to properly assess the situation once more, he realized he would need to do something drastic and soon if he didn’t want to wind up rat chow within seconds. Formulating the vague framework of a plan, he acted before his body’s innate squeamishness could convince him otherwise. He clearly recognized that this was a matter of life or death. Jun decided in that moment that he didn’t much care for the latter.
After rounding another bend in the tunnel, he immediately skid to an awkward halt. Turning sharply, he scaled the nearest vertical surface—using fingers swirling with aura to find purchase where there wasn’t any. Rock chips rained down steadily as his nails gouged shallow furrows into the stone. Then, he waited, now several meters above the ground floor. It was a struggle, though he made an effort to slow his breathing and still his body’s trembling. Still shaking slightly, but with his breathing under control, he listened intently for the scrabbling of claws on stone as the two beasts approached.
Ivory had risen to hover beside his head. To his surprise she appeared less reproving of his last stand than he would’ve expected. In fact, she seemed more grimly resigned than he thought he’d ever seen her. Apparently, she too recognized the precariousness of their situation. Whether or not that meant she approved of his plan he couldn’t say, but she wasn’t trying to stop him, which he appreciated immensely.
The first rat rounded the bend at a full sprint—skidding across the stone in a cascade of sparks. He allowed it to rush on past, completely oblivious. Well, he said “allowed” but in truth the thing’d been moving so fast, he hadn’t made out more than a roughly animal shaped blur. Still, that didn’t mean he’d gained nothing from its passage. Using its appearance in conjunction with the sounds of its passing, he was able to roughly gauge the second of the big rat’s approach. He didn’t have to wait very long.
Confident in his timing, Jun let go of his perch, and, with a spirit empowered shove, pushed away from the wall to hurtle downward at an angle. He shot headlong towards the spot where he knew the beast would be—stiffened fingers trailing one long ribbon of crimson smoke. He flooded his strike with all of the cutting force at his disposal, leaving his hand shining so brightly that his bones were made visible.
Jun jabbed forward just as the second rat-kin rounded the bend—stiffened fingers meeting toughened hide at suicidally high speeds. The sudo armor of the beast’s thick coat proved as much of an impediment as the subsequent layers of muscle and bone, his hand sliding easily through one end and out the other, to eventually punch through in an explosion of stinking gore. It was surreal. He might have dipped his hand in a tub of warm water for all the resistance he felt. At the very last second Jun shifted his weight, so that his shoulder took the brunt of the impact rather than his face. And not a moment too soon either. When at last their bodies did collide, Jun slammed into the corpse with enough momentum to bruise organs, and, going by the sound of it, fracture bones. The poor creature never even knew what hit it.
CRACK!
Jun was already staggering to his feet; the reverberations of the impact having yet to subside. Just barely able to free himself from the mess he’d made of the first creature before the one that’d gotten away whipped its head around in surprise. The pain pulsing down and along his left shoulder was immediate and intense. Or would have been, had he not had his cutting aura active. Jun pulled a spare mending pill from his dimensional storage and swallowed it. It would take several minutes for the pill to do its thing, but he’d figured it was best he take it now, rather than later.
When the beast finally caught sight of its fallen companion, it let out a terrible, soul piercing shriek. Then, without any more warning, the spirit beast attacked.
Now that he was standing still, Jun could fully appreciate just how fast these things were. In an instant, the beast crossed the full ten meters separating them—maw yawning wide and brutal claws extended. Already upon him before the sparks created by its pounce had entirely lost their radiance. Thankfully, Jun had anticipated as much. That being said, the thing moved so incredibly fast that, even though he’d been expecting it, he still nearly missed his window of opportunity. With a pivot of his torso, and a spirit empowered swing, he blindsided the snarling beast with the corpse of its fellow—hand firmly clenched around the end of its long tail. The two connected with a wet slap and explosion of gore—splattering them both quite liberally with awful.
Sent careening off course, thrown for a loop by Jun’s unorthodox attack, the beast was suddenly in no position to dodge as Jun turned about face, and went on the offensive. Jun sped his circulation until his entire body trembled. Meanwhile his eyes, coldly serene, calmly tracked the beast’s trajectory. When the timing was right, he threw himself at the writhing thing like a loosed projectile—the cave floor developing tiny fractures where he’d stood.
He appeared before the rat-kin in much the same way it had him—already jabbing his right arm forward in a viciously aimed thrust. He focused all of his will on the simple act of amassing aura—positively flooding his system with the odd strength, as the swirling drill of ruby red smoke only grew and grew. He gathered the force until his head felt fit to burst. Barely aware of the pain, it never once occurred to him to hesitate for even an instant. Even as his vision began to blur, and blood to run freely from his nose, he kept on.
And then, just as his strike was about to connect, something altogether unexpected happened. To his utter shock and astonishment, he felt his aura, the extension of his will, his universal concept—the greatest weapon he had in his arsenal by far—falter, waver, and then dissipate completely. Extinguished like a candles flame on an especially windy day.
In the same moment a cloud of thick, silvery mist exploded out from the rat-kin—the source of his own aura’s complete obliteration. Like a drop of blood swept away by a river’s current. For a split second after, Jun was rendered inert. Both from the actual shock of the conceptual cloud slamming bodily into him, and a different paralysis born entirely of disbelief. There was no mistaking it. Jun had pushed with all he had, only to have the rat push back even harder.
And it hadn’t just pushed; Jun’s force had been crushed. Only belatedly would Jun recognize the irony of such a statement. This rat-kin clearly owned a crushing concept of some kind, much like his stepbrother Cedric had. Before he could properly absorb this revelation, however, Jun noticed from out of the corner of his eye, the streak of pink trailing silvery smoke.
Thinking fast, Jun attempted the same trick that’d been used on him, and so once more pushed with all of his mental might. Flaring his aura brighter and larger than he’d ever done before. Annoyingly, it was taking more and more of his concentration to do so. To ignore the hot stabs of agony which followed—that seemed intrinsically tied to any use of his concept all of the sudden. All the same, he did what he could to resist the attack.
Whether or not it worked, he ultimately wasn’t sure. All he did know was that, the next thing he knew, he was impacting the furthest wall with a terrifying…
CRUNCH
His body peeled away from the shallow imprint he’d made in the stone. Then it was a long time, far too long, before he felt his body hit the cavern floor. His only saving grace the fact that his body was still flush with healing energies. If given enough time, he might recover from even this. Unfortunately, it didn’t appear as though the rat-kin was keen on giving him that time. Once more the massive rat seemed to appear as if from nothing, tail already lashing downward in a spinning, diagonal arc. An attack that, should it land, would likely flatten him into paste.
Acting fast, Jun shoved off of the cavern floor with all the strength in his good arm. He was awarded with a muted jolt as something in his arm broke. His quick thinking still shot him clear of the beast’s attack, however. So that when it landed, it met stone instead of his tender flesh.
Another deafening crack resounded throughout their share of tunnel. A spiderweb of fractures radiated outward from the point of impact; a tail shaped depression that sank a foot deep into the stone. The entire cave groaned ominously in the wake of the attack. Jun, for his part—still flipping madly through the air—gulped. So that was the power of a true crushing alignment, huh? It was a far cry from his brother’s punches, that was for sure.
There was also something about the force of it that bothered him. Something that put into question the use of his own aura. Unfortunately, he wasn’t allowed to think on it for more than a second before his body reached the apex of its ascent, and then began to fall. Fall, that is, right into the waiting arms of the visibly enraged rat creature.
He could see that its periodically flicking tail was becoming denser with that intractable silver aura by the second. The beast ready and willing to keep on swinging until he was little more than a nice coat of paint on the walls. Every casual flick of its tail was followed by the crack of splintering stone—the cavern floor practically quaking from its mere proximity to the dense mist.
Yeah. Not happening.
Jun kicked off the ruined wall with all the cultivated strength he could muster, barely registering something else break in his foot as he did so.
He hadn’t had the forethought to aim himself exactly, but he was headed in a direction opposite that terrifying buildup of power, and that was all he really cared about. Far too soon though his body was reunited with the ground. He was quite disheartened to find that it was not a loving reunion. He hit the rough stone hard, scraping off layers of skin in the resulting tumble, until he came to a skidding, dizzying halt—a bruised tangle of broken limbs. Even with his aura active, he simply lay there for a second, dazed and confused, before, with a jolt of panic, he shot back to his feet.
He was… almost fast enough. The aura laden tail was already in motion, aiming horizontally for his chest with its indomitable truth. He could feel it, from mere inches away, the immensity of the force hidden behind the simple blow. The force of an ideal whose only purpose was to break; to crush into submission anything and everything in its way.
And it was then—in that strange limbo between life and death; wherein one made to pass off the torch to the other—that he felt a familiar pair of tiny arms wrap around his neck. And, in the next moment, time just seemed to… stop. His heartbeat slowed, his eyes dilated, and everything around him wound down to a crawl. The world—now a bland monochrome with brief flashes of color his mind instinctually knew to avoid—continued as if submerged in thick sap. While, by contrast, his mind veritably raced, inspired as he was by a sudden moment of clarity. For, in the moments before the fatal blow arrived, something fundamental clicked in his mind.
Because the overwhelming force he now felt from the tail was very familiar. Extremely familiar, in that it represented the way that he’d been thinking of his own concept up until now. Incredulous, he only now realized how much of an idiot he’d been. He’d been using a universal truth primarily as a blunt instrument. A force lever whose only purpose was to enhance his, to his mind, “prodigious strength.” The idiot that he was, he’d gotten so caught up in the newfound power he could bring to bear using his circulation, that he’d forgotten, or outright ignored, the innate nature of the concept itself.
Put simply, he didn’t wield the will to crush. He didn’t need devastating force to dismantle his enemies. And yet he’d been using his concept as if that were all it was good for. Down that way lay the path of the brute, however, and the path of cutting was not one of brutality. Nor was it one of overwhelming strength. It could be mighty, yes—he had seen as much in his ideal vision—but that was not where it derived its strength from. He didn’t need to be stronger than his opponents to be better than them, and to attempt as much anyway would only be an exercise in futility. From what he recalled, there had been little to no physical element in Feathers’ devastating attack. Instead, in place of brutality, there had only been speed, an iron wrought will, and most importantly… precision.
Instead of flooding his strike with all of the force he could muster, he decided to focus his intent instead. He honed it; he guided it. He sharpened his very willpower to an incredibly fine point, until it too resembled a blade in truth. He then zeroed in on precisely where he wanted to strike and made of his mind a tool crafted for that singular purpose.
It occurred to him, as color returned to the world and time seemed to renew its usual pace, that he might’ve used the strange moment of heightened awareness to evade the incoming attack. Now though, he found there was no longer any need. Time resumed. The tail whipped forward. Jun desperately backpedaled. And then, with a simple flick of his wrist, he severed the two-meter-long tail at its base—sheering through the once seemingly impenetrable cloud of resistance as if it weren’t even there at all.
The tail still collided with his chest like a charging pack animal—slamming him sideways to impact yet another wall—but, now severed from the main body, and so without the overbearing will of crushing behind it, the blow was ultimately a survivable one. And to make things even better, no headache followed this new and improved use of his aura. He couldn’t help but see that as a good sign.
The beast howled in agony as Jun was just beginning to stagger to his feet—pulling his bruised hand away from the base of his neck, where he’d tried to protect Ivory from the worst of the collision. Upon him in an instant, pain fueled rage was alight in the rat-kin’s beady eyes. It charged him, it’s clawed foreleg upraised. Cocked back as it made to deliver a vicious swipe. The appendage trailing a truly prodigious amount of silver mist, clearly indicating it wasn’t out of the fight just yet.
It couldn’t be said that Jun stepped aside gracefully. His right arm barely worked, his left was all but useless, and he was pretty sure his ankle was sprained if not outright broken. In truth, it was more fluke than anything that he stumbled out of the way in time. Nevertheless, even off balance as he was, broken, and still unused to wielding his own abilities, the abilities themselves proved potent enough to sever the rat’s head from its shoulders as it sped past.
The headless corpse continued on to collide with the cavern wall. Although this time, no earth-shattering boom accompanied its collision, only the sickening crunch of an unfortunate end. Dragging his eyes away from the sight, Jun mutely took in the eight-inch-long claws that’d sprouted from his knuckles. Each shone like colored glass with a brilliant, ruby red luster—faint tendrils of mist lightly wafting from their jagged crystalline surface.
For a long time after, Jun merely swayed on his feet, stared blankly at his hands, at the corpse, then back at his hands again—not entirely believing that it might really be over. Eventually though, the truth of things fully sank in, and he collapsed onto his back the next moment, completely exhausted. His aura winked out at almost the same instant, and so exhausted was he that he barely even noticed. Gasping, he turned to watch the rat-kin’s head as it rolled its way over to rest right in front of him. He stared into its lifeless black eyes for several long seconds, stomach roiling, before his sickened stupor was interrupted by a cheery chime.
————————————————————
Ding!
You have found enlightenment in the concept: [Cutting]
|Concept of Cutting| (2nd Aspect)
Aspect of Precise Dissection
+15 to resonance
Ding!
Congratulations!
You have formed a Double Aspected Mantra.
Mantra: [Sword Slash] (2nd Aspected)
My will is honed; I cut what obstructs my path.
Grade: (Good Quality)
Your body has transcended its natural limits.
62 CELESTIAL ESSENCE CONSOLIDATED.
Your mind has transcended its natural limits.
62 CELESTIAL ESSENCE CONSOLIDATED.
Your spirit has transcended its natural limits.
62 CELESTIAL ESSENCE CONSOLIDATED.
Your intuition has transcended its natural limits.
187 CELESTIAL ESSENCE CONSOLIDATED.
Jun stared at the notifications in disbelief. What was this? He hadn’t earned this. Or… had he? The boost to his parameters aside, he thought about it for a moment, before he decided that, no, he surely hadn’t. All he’d really done was correct a mistake he’d been making from the very beginning. Should that really warrant some sort of advancement? It most certainly shouldn’t count as any form of enlightenment. Hell, wasn’t “finding enlightenment” supposed to be incredibly difficult? Could it really be so simple? He wasn’t convinced. Still, the upgrade to his arsenal was much appreciated. That and the unexpectedly lucrative essence bump almost made the entire death defying sojourn worth it. Almost. In any case, against all odds he’d somehow survived, and that meant he now had to figure out what came next.
Ivory had long since squirmed her way out from under him, and was now sitting on his chest with her head cradled in her hands. It was so out of character for her that it immediately set off alarm bells in his mind.
“Hey, are you okay? You’re really not looking too good.”
Ivory took a moment to respond. And when she finally did, her voice came out in a croak.
“Ugh…” she groaned piteously. “Head… hurts…”
Jun’s mind immediately jumped to the fight. Could she have suffered a head injury while he wasn’t looking? He’d tried his best to protect her but…? The answer came to him almost instantaneously. It would’ve been miraculous if she hadn’t, all things considered. His hand instantly went to the dimensional bag at his side. A mending pill the only thing he could think of to help alleviate whatever pain she was in.
To his surprise, however, she began to shake her head as if in denial, before, with a shudder, she thought better of it and resorted to limply waving him off instead.
“It… won’t help… not that… kind of hurt.”
Jun wanted to ask what kind of hurt it was then, but he recognized now was probably not the best time. In any case, if it weren’t because of some physical injury, he thought he could guess what she’d done to end up this way.
“That weird timeless monochrome near the end of the fight. That was you, wasn’t it?”
Ivory risked a nod.
Mind reading, night vision, and now strange time stopping powers? What will she come up with next, he wondered. At this point, it was basically anyone’s guess.
But no, he could tell that wasn’t quite right. And while his memory of the fight was spotty at best, he remembered enough of those final moments to recognize that it was less that time had stopped, than that his ability to perceive time had increased a hundred, maybe even a thousandfold.
“How in the world did you do that?” Jun asked in wonderment.
He couldn’t help it. Given the sheer absurdity of it all, it was hard to suppress his own growing curiosity, even if he recognized the selfishness inherent in his insistence.
Once more, she risked a shake of her head. Less an outright refusal than a plea for postponement. He ruefully accepted her request. Then he too took a minute to let his body recover—washing down a few mending pills with a revitalizing tonic—before, at last, he decided it was best they get a move on. Rising to his feet, he felt the difference immediately. His body now responded with a speed and alacrity that felt altogether surreal compared to only moments before. He felt sharper, more aware, and more capable than ever. It was startling and unlike anything he’d ever experienced. The only thing he could reasonably compare it to was how he felt after every session of [Leaf Rides the Gale], though even then… The stark difference was likely commensurate with the sheer amount of essence he’d gained in so relatively short a time.
And it was only then that he began to comprehend just what consolidation actually meant. In that the process wasn’t merely the arbitrary amassing of power, so much as it was the simmering potential for growth suddenly realized through desperation. As far as he understood it, the celestial essence was already there—lying dormant in his bones, his sinew, his musculature—and yet, it was only through intense struggle that all that essence was given meaning. When he’d thought he’d given what all he had left, and was then forced to dig deeper for yet more. Only in those moments, when his life balanced on a razors edge, was he able to realize the limitless potential lying just underneath the surface, and so make of it his own.
Cradling Ivory in the crook of his good arm, Jun glanced down at the severed head of the rat-kin that’d nearly killed him. Their fight hadn’t exactly been a quiet affair, and he couldn’t imagine he’d be safe here for much longer. First things first though…?
It looked like it was time to get back to his roots. Back to where this wild ride had first kicked off. Only, in this telling he wasn’t the filthy scavenger in desperate need of coin, but the brave young cultivator eager to extract his valuable prize.
Five minutes later, pointedly looking away from hands that would likely never be clean again, he found himself reminded precisely why he hadn’t gone back to scavenging once he’d moved onto better things. It was just as gross as he remembered.
After extracting the two beast cores from the rat-kin—one of them giving off a brutal crushing aura while the other, surprisingly, exuded a very sharp, piercing feeling—Jun saw no other choice but to continue on his forward march. He was under no illusions that he could find his way back to where he’d first come from. If he actually tried retracing his steps, he’d likely wind up more lost than he already was. His best bet, therefore, was to keep on as he had been, and hope salvation was right around the corner. Admittedly, it wasn’t the best plan in the world, but, realistically, he was already lost, right? At this point, really, what could go wrong?
And, as if fate were conspiring against him, not fifteen minutes went by before he was shown precisely how wrong things could get. Because, mere minutes after having escaped death’s cold clutches, they were ambushed by a party of well-trained fighters. A party that just so happened to be primarily made up of some very angry rats…
Interlude
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Beast of the Cloth (I)
Notched Tail Silver-Eye
The distinctive stench of mildew and death permeated the high vaulted cavern. A melancholic melange which brought to mind thoughts of tragedy. Of funeral rites and unseen burials—the ritual shaman’s malodorous cologne. It was a harsh smell for most. A sour taste on the air which often followed times of sweeping sickness or inter-clan war. The High Priest Scyshaman—spiritual leader of his people—standing tall upon the cavern’s naturally raised dais and draped in the ornate cloak that was the symbol of his elevation, was admittedly no stranger to the many scents of misery. Nor of decay. And, for that matter, neither was the cave. It was well known to be a holy place after all.
The periodic drip from the roof-fangs above kept a consistent tally of each second’s passing. In this way, Silvereye knew that a full five minutes had gone by since his temple had first been invaded, his meditations stymied, and his shallow well of patience sorely run dry. Again, the young concubine attempted to get ahold of herself, and again the female lapsed into yet another fit of racking sobs. Really now, as if one feeble pink not yet past its naming was worth all of this fuss. Raids happened all the time; it was the purview of the war bands to pillage on occasion. Would she have them kill indiscriminately, rather than reserve their bloodlust for those of lesser importance? In any case, the child shouldn’t have been gallivanting where she clearly was not welcomed.
It was nothing to get worked up about, he thought to himself. Merely something that happened. Nothing to be done about it. Indeed, the only reason something so trivial should be worthy of his attentions at all, was due entirely to the lineage of her mate. Unimpressive though the young lordling might’ve been, one did not simply brush off the Mist-Tail Grand Elder’s grandson lightly. Not even the High Priest Scyshaman himself. Silvereye repressed a weary sigh. Honestly, this was all such a tiresome bother. He wished he could just snatch away the small corpse and be done. Still, certain proprieties had to be maintained. And it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t profit from such a tragedy. Speaking over the head of the hysterical mother, Silvereye addressed the male, who held both the female and the dead child to his chest.
“You were right to come to me with this,” he intoned—trying to keep the boredom from his voice. “And while I know that your loss may feel absolute right now, I would implore you have faith in the master's will. I have no doubts that this… youngling of yours is, even now, frolicking through the highest reaches above. Feasting alongside many of her ancestors and fallen kin.”
“Y-yes great shaman,” the warrior stammered. “Nalla willing, she finds peace in the beyond.”
Silver-Eye’s hackles rose upon hearing the great master’s name spoken so brazenly. Thankfully his cloak did much to hide his irritation.
“Yes, well. It pains me to reiterate that peace may not be so forthcoming as you might believe, should the rites not be adhered to properly.”
He tried not to be too obvious with his mounting impatience. Finally, the daft lordling appeared to take the hint.
“Of course, great shaman! Please! Take her with our blessing! I would not be the cause of her soul’s damnation. Our daughter’s fate is in your capable hands.”
Finished, the two gave several lengthy bows before approaching, which did very little to ease his growing annoyance. He tiredly recognized their deference, as was only his due, but when the lordling finally approached to transfer ownership of the child, Silvereye did nothing to hide his impatience. He took the limp body into his arms, and, without a backwards glance, placed it upon a raised stone altar that’d been created for just such a purpose. Now that he had the body in hand, he knew the time for pleasantries was at an end. With a few clipped words he shooed the two from his chambers—quoting a need for privacy which they easily deferred to. As it so happened, this time it wasn’t purely theatrics. He did need total privacy for what came next. Just not for the reasons they likely assumed.
Silvereye retrieved a set of stained surgical tools from a hidden compartment carved roughly into the stone altar: bone hammer, chisel, an assortment of blades, and practically every other nightmarishly shaped instrument imaginable. With steady hands, well-practiced in the art of dissection, he set to work with a vigor rarely seen by that of the public. In less than a minute the small skull had been shattered, neatly pried apart, and prepared for extraction. It wasn’t a pretty sight, nor was it a pretty process, though, at this point, he barely even noticed the gore. Far too intent on what precious things he knew lay beneath.
Too impatient to bother with unwieldy tongs, Silvereye dug his fore-claws into the still warm grey matter directly—whereupon he began fishing around somewhat haphazardly. Until, with a triumphant cry, he pulled free a small, colorless gemstone about the size of a rotten tooth. A marvel that shone a brilliant white, even through the layers of awful. Only as an afterthought did he cradle the small body with his tail and—forgoing any of the reverence fools often showed the dead—proceed to fling the useless meat aside, to splash into the fetid pool at the temple’s very center. A tainted water basin that was, in fact, the origin of the cave's abhorrent stench. In seconds the school of carnivorous fish, one’s he’d cultivated for many generations now, took to the generous meal with a will.
Using a bowl of clean water, he rinsed off his find until all the grime had been removed. Holding it up, he couldn’t help but admire its beauty.
The deliberate scrape of claw on stone derailed his rumination, heralding yet another intrusion upon his domain. Silvereye let out a curse, hurrying to store the vital stone and his instruments before he allowed for whoever it was to enter. To his pleasant surprise, the male who crossed his threshold was one he knew quite well. A crèche mate, and one of the few for whose company he still genuinely appreciated. What news the old shaman came bearing, on the other hand, was not nearly so welcome.
Death in the tunnels. At least a dozen warrior cast dead. And worst of all, not a single of their vital stones had yet to be accounted for. The message was not a subtle one. Fury roiled in Silvereye’s chest at this blatant attempt to undermine his authority. He didn’t know which of the clans was behind this, or how they’d managed to subjugate a slave of such competence. All he did know was that such a blatant affront could not be allowed to stand.
“Brother Long-tooth, my old friend, I would ask that you call a meeting of the shamanic council.”
“Very well, brother Silvereye, though might I ask what for?”
“There is to be an assembly of all the clan powers. Prominent, dwindling and insignificant alike. No one is to be spared. I have been dealt a grave insult by these events, one which demands retribution. If they would use their pet slaves to steal from me, then it’s only right they likewise pay for their foolish greed in blood.”
“Understood.”
“Take note of any clan hesitant to send their very best in pursuit of this pest. Oh… and Brother Long-Claw?”
“Yes, brother shaman?”
“Should all else fail I would have you contact the four clawed order.”
His crèche mate looked suitably taken a back by this, as was only natural. It wasn’t a decision he’d come to lightly after all.
“Is… is that wise, brother shaman? That seems… rather extreme.”
“If the alternative is that we allow such a transgression to go unpunished? Then yes. It is a risk I am willing to take. Better that the vital stones be lost to us entirely. Let those fanatics of the order stand to gain prestige in place of the clan elders responsible for this insult, and so turn this farce into a poignant reminder. Show the whole of the burrows yet again, that all that comes from taking what only a preordained shaman is due, is death—swift, brutal, and overwhelming in its execution.”
