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36. [Red Tide] Unsettling Debts
🕑 Added 2024-05-06 22:04:21 +0000 UTC--DRAMATIS PERSONAE—
Red Tide, Enchantress of the 4th Renown, The Reef, has earned some favors
Salt Wall and Turtle Jaw, Berserker of the 2nd Renown and Quill of The Reef, strong and steady
Cuda Bite and Throne Gazer, Skulker of the 3rd Renown and Trident Master of the 4th Renown, The Reef, have earned some Ink
Theo Adamantios, Axe Master of the 6th Renown, and Sylvie Aracia, his sponsor, Penchenne, off to another adventure
Vikael Rambrother and Meera Rootgarde, Shifter of the 11th Renown and Druid of the 7th Renown, Besaden, passionate
***
9 Harvesend, 61 AW
The forest of Besaden
231 days until the next Granting
Pinned beneath the tremendously hairy and rank-smelling Vikael Rambrother, Red Tide pulled her knees in and kicked her heels against his hips. The man was deadweight as he retched into the grass next to them, but she managed to shove him off enough that she could crab-walk backward. The beastlord didn’t seem offended by Red Tide’s disgusted snarl. He wiped his mouth across the back of his forearm, globs of Red Tide’s brownish poison hanging in the curls of his dark arm hair, and then sat back in the grass.
“I truly feel like shit,” Vikael said. “Thank you for that.”
“You’re welcome,” Red Tide replied.
“Clever trick you pulled. Respect.” Vikael glanced over his shoulder to where Salt Wall loomed, the berserker bruised from her encounters with his horns. She had her hook cocked back like the fight might not be over, but hesitated as she saw clarity in Vikael’s brown eyes. “And you, you’re a strong one, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Salt Wall said.
“Neck snapped by a brawny maid of the sea,” Vikael mused. “I couldn’t dream up a better death.”
“I’m no fucking maid.”
Vikael sized up the berserker. “No, you are not.”
Behind Red Tide, Theo began to cough, chunks of drying mushroom falling from his mouth and nostrils. Sylvie scrambled over to him and began prying at Red Tide’s coral prison with her scrawny fingers.
“Let him go now, Red Tide,” Sylvie yelled. “He’s coming back to himself.”
“It’s done, then,” Vikael said, slapping the ground beside him. “Your people must have killed the taintspore.”
“Taintspore,” Turtle Jaw repeated as he helped Red Tide to her feet. “That’s what had hold of you?”
Vikael nodded. “Chaotic bit of fungus. Unnatural in origin. Possesses its victims and floods them with destructive urges.”
“Why do you let something like that grow in your forest?” Turtle Jaw asked.
“We don’t,” Vikael replied darkly. “An uninvited guest brought it with them.”
Brushing herself off, Red Tide circled around to inspect Theo. The axe master dangled helplessly from the shafts of coral she had summoned. Sweat trickled from the top of his bald head into his sheepish eyes. Sylvie broke bits off the coral where she could, wincing as she bent back a nail. Red Tide shoved her aside.
“You’ll be at it for hours,” Red Tide said. She met Theo’s eyes. “Let’s leave him up there for now. Make sure it’s truly over.”
“I can’t fault your caution,” Theo responded, typically florid despite his compromised state. “But I felt the creature—the taintspore—I felt it’s dying scream.” He twitched his head to the side and Red Tide realized he meant to shake away a gathering tear. “Horrible to be possessed in such a way, a passenger in my own body, and yet I felt its swelling of panic and desperation as if it were my own…”
Sylvie pinched the bridge of her nose. “Gods, Theo, you’re embarrassing…”
“Thank you for your intervention, Red Tide,” Theo continued. He glanced at Sylvie, who had turned away. “Thank you for preventing me from doing something I would not be able to live with.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Red Tide said. “Shut up about it.”
“Did you make this?”
The voice came from behind Red Tide. She spun and found a female beastlord standing behind her. Short and solidly built, with hair the same copper color as redwood bark, and dirty, bare feet. The woman had slipped up on Red Tide like a breeze and she wasn't alone. Other men and women were striding through the trees now, all dressed in the colors of the forest.
“Where did you people come from?” Red Tide asked.
“Been watching you for days now,” the woman answered. She ran a hand over the surface of Theo’s coral enclosure. At first, Red Tide though that she wore some kind of gauntlet, but no. The woman’s hand—her entire lower arm—was encased in tree bark. The joints on her fingers creaked when she moved them and a single leaf grew out of her wrist. “It's fine work,” she said, drawing Red Tide's attention back to the coral. “You're a Coral Tender, right?”
“What’s it to you, beastlord?”
“Besadenizen,” the woman corrected sharply. “Meera Rootgarde is my name. We are kindred, oca’em.”
Meera yanked down the front of her tunic so Red Tide could see her Ink. Another one of Besaden's champions, this one marked as a Druid of the 7th Renown. Red Tide recognized a symbol tattooed on her shoulder—[Tree Tender]—that wasn't so different than her [Coral Tender] rune.
“We got coral tenders where we come from, but I wasn't one of them,” Red Tide said. “I just took the Ink because it was good for killing.”
Meera glanced in the direction of Theo and Sylvie. “Good for protection, too.” She smiled at Red Tide. “We should compare techniques. Might lea–”
“You rotten bitch!” Vikael bellowed, breaking off his conversation with Salt Wall as he noticed Meera for the first time. “You were going to leave me to die!”
In an instant, Red Tide was forgotten as Meera jabbed her finger at Vikael. “Stop whining, you dumb bastard!” she yelled back. “You know the protocol for a taintspore. Couldn't risk it spreading beyond the boundaries.”
“I was days with that thing in my mind!” Vikael stomped forward. Red Tide stepped aside, not eager to get in between the two champions.
“And you had days more before it started properly consuming you, you squalling oaf,” Meera answered. “We had it contained and knew some enterprising champions would be along eventually. No good reason to risk our own.”
“No good reason?” Vikael shouted. “How about our vows, you thorn bush of a woman?”
As soon as Vikael was close enough, Meera punched him in the chest. Her bark-covered fist scraped his skin and left dots of blood in his mat of hair. When she wound up for a second punch, Vikael slapped her hand aside and grabbed her by the back of the head. He yanked her head back and, for a moment, Red Tide though he might cut the woman's throat, but instead he kissed her hard and deep, until Meera grabbed him by the horns and thrust his face away, spitting on him.
Turtle Jaw sidled up next to Red Tide, rubbing the underside of his square chin. “I think these are people we might get along with.”
***
Throne Gazer and Cuda Bite returned a short time later with their new Ink. The skulker had chosen [Camouflage], an ability that would let him blend into his surroundings so long as he remained still, which Red Tide thought might be difficult for the high strung little thief. Still, it seemed a good choice in the interest of self-preservation, which was as ever Cuda Bite’s biggest concern.
Throne Gazer had chosen [Summon Bubble] which sounded like a game for children but would actually allow him to create an orb of water around an enemy’s head. The symbolism wasn’t lost on Red Tide. In the first age, the oca’em punished those who trespassed on the sea with drowning. To kill a merchant champion in such a way would be a profound message.
“Equals once again,” Throne Gazer said to Red Tide.
Red Tide snorted in reply. “When were we ever equals, royal blood?”
Throne Gazer fell into a sullen silence at that.
The combined group made camp near the four kneeling arborists who had turned themselves into trees. The Besadenizens spent the evening decorating their branches with garlands of flowers and pouring a maple-smelling ale over their bark-bound spines.
“Is this how your people do funerals?” Theo asked Vikael.
“It is part of it,” Vikael said. He plucked at a garland of flowers tangled around one of his horns—his wife had put it there, then slapped him across the face. “These four already had a moving-on ceremony. It was planned for them to return to the land this summer.”
“Planned?” Red Tide asked.
“They were becoming more tree than human. Painful not to set down roots when that happens.” Vikael took a swig from a wineskin. “They helped us to trap the taintspore. A worthy ending. May they ever nurture us.”
“May they ever nurture us!” shouted the other Besadenizens.
“We saw a victim of this taintspore,” Throne Gazer said. “Why was there an assassin in your woods?”
“I intended to ask him just that, friend,” Vikael replied. “When I approached, the assassin slit his own belly and released the fungus. That’s how I came to be taken.”
As Vikael told the story of his encounter, Red Tide noticed Sylvie sag against Theo’s shoulder. The girl looked pale, like she might be sick.
“A long day,” Theo said. “Perhaps some rest is in order.”
***
12 Harvesend, 61 AW
228 days until the next Granting
For their assistance in killing the taintspore, Vikael invited all of them to enjoy the hospitality of Heartwood, the hidden village at the center of Besaden. Red Tide noticed how he phrased the invitation as if the oca’em were not expected, thus keeping the true purpose of their visit to Besaden from the Penchennese. All of these land-walkers and their damn politics. At least the ram-horned brute was no fool.
Of course, the party from The Reef accepted the invitation. Theo and Sylvie politely declined. They needed to return west, in pursuit of more Ink.
“Fair enough,” Vikael said. “We shall escort you out via the fastest route.”
Red Tide did not think any route through the trees could be fast, but she was wrong. Traveling through Besaden got much easier once in the company of the beastlords. Meera's crew had rounded up the horses left by the Penchennese and even collected the nags and shabby wagon abandoned by the Reef's champions. Wide paths opened through the trees that weren't there before so that it was possible to bring the vehicle through the alleys of redwoods. The Besadenizens preferred to travel by foot, though, loping on bare feet between the trees with such silent smoothness that Red Tide sometimes had difficulty focusing on them.
“Did you open this path with your magic?” she asked Meera as the two women walked together.
Meera shook her head. “This path has been here. You just couldn't see it.”
“I looked hard at your damn woods,” Red Tide said. “Would have to be blind to miss this.”
“You were blind,” Meera replied. “Outsiders can't find the paths without us. We wished it so.”
Not for the first time, Red Tide felt a dreary jealousy that made her shoulders sink. If only the oca'em could control the oceans in the ways the besa'em controlled these woods.
“They let you wish for that?” Red Tide asked quietly.
“Who's they?”
Red Tide thought for a moment. “Your enemies.”
“Our enemies are few and it's an old feud that rarely heats to outright hostility.” Meera's answer reminded Red Tide of the wall of trees that blocked the road from the Magelab. “No one wants these woods. Their endless crossing will not earn anyone coin. We don't bother anyone. We keep to ourselves.”
Red Tide fell silent, considering all that. Was it meant as advice or criticism? These Besadenizens controlled a forest some ten times larger than the Reef. They were safe. Undisturbed. They had hidden themselves away and grown stronger in their solitude. In theory, this was not so different from what the Queen of the Coralline Throne envisioned for what was left of the Reef. Except, the oca’em did not grow stronger but more shabby and pathetic. Besaden could use their wishes to master these woods and turn outsiders aside. Meanwhile, every year the Reef sent four champions to their deaths wishing for a bountiful harvest.
“You have no reason to help us,” Red Tide said.
“No, we do not,” Meera replied. “I voted against letting you come. Cruel to waste the time of the condemned, I argued.”
Red Tide snorted. “So why are we here?”
“I was outvoted,” Meera replied. “Perhaps, coral tender, you might yet convince me.”
***
18 Harvesend, 61 AW
222 days until the next Granting
Vikael Rambrother and his wife were rutting again. Vigorously, if the noises were any indication. It seemed to Red Tide that the two of them were always fucking or fighting, sometimes both at the same time.
“They could have at least waited for the rest of us to fall asleep,” Sylvie complained. It was difficult to tell in the pale green glow of the lumloe plant, but Red Tide thought the short-haired girl was flushed.
“They don’t fuck loud where you come from?” Salt Wall asked.
“We have walls,” Sylvie replied.
“Your last night with us,” Red Tide said with a smirk. “Enjoy it before all you have are Theo’s endless words for entertainment.”
Sylvie groaned and buried her face in her hands.
The three women sat around the glowing bulb-shaped plant that the Besadenizens used in lieu of campfires. The dark green leaves of the lumloe peeled back at night, revealing a head-sized bulb that emitted steady light and a cool-smelling aroma that cleared the sinuses. The glow reminded Red Tide of the phosphorescent algae that grew in the depths below the Reef.
Tonight, four of the plants were arranged between the redwoods, the motley assembly divided between them.
Cuda Bite leaned over from his neighboring circle and nudged Red Tide. “We’re taking bets on who finishes first.”
Red Tide stared at him. “Really? Over here we’re taking bets on when you and Throne Gazer will disappear into the night together.”
The skulker’s face fell. “Come on, Red. You’re still mad?”
Red Tide simply glowered at him in response. She didn’t truly begrudge Cuda Bite his new Ink—how could she when her own survival was shackled so tightly to these three others? But Red Tide did like tormenting the little thief and intended to keep it up until she got bored. Plus, he had seemed a little cozier with Throne Gazer since the two had done their killing together. She did not know what to make of that burgeoning friendship, but it rubbed her wrong.
When Red Tide turned away from Cuda Bite, she found Sylvie staring at her. The young woman’s eyes were sharp with something like determination. She turned her delicate timepiece over in her hand—the item had mysteriously reappeared in her bags without comment from anyone.
“What is it?” Red Tide asked her.
“At the risk of starting any rumors, I would like to speak with you in private,” Sylvie said.
“Be as loud as you like,” Cuda Bite said without turning around. “Please. For my benefit.”
Sylvie scowled at Cuda Bite’s back, but stood up and made for a tangle of trees beyond the glow of the lumloe. Red Tide’s curiosity was piqued. She followed the young woman from Penchenne, knowing that Throne Gazer and Theo were both watching intently. Sylvie didn’t stop until they’d put a good amount of distance between them and the camp, so much so that even the ongoing struggle between Vikael and Meera grew faint.
“It’s unlikely we will ever see each other again after tonight,” Sylvie said at last. “My champion and I owe you debts.”
Red Tide crossed her arms. “And?”
“The Magelab means to move against Merchant’s Bay.”
The sentence meant little to Red Tide. “What’s that do for me?”
“Your kind are hunted by the merchants every year, no? I am telling you that they will be spread thin. The entire southern continent will be out for each other’s blood, and the Magelab fully intends to insert themselves into this matter.”
“What will they be fighting over?”
“A complicated matter of trade,” Sylvie said.
“How do you know so much about the merchants and mages?”
“I am from Penchenne, it’s what we do,” Sylvie replied with an upward tilt of her sharp chin. “If you’re seeking allies to protect you from the merchants, consider those who will be opposed to them at the Granting. The Gadgeteers, Gen’bi, possibly even Crucifalia if you can stomach it. I don’t think you’ll get what you’re after from Besaden.”
Red Tide fought against a building pressure behind her eyes. This was a conversation better had with Throne Gazer or Turtle Jaw who actually gave a shit about these silly land-walker relationships.
“Words, words, words,” Red Tide said. “You think this is proper repayment for your life? It does nothing for me.”
“On the island, you may find Theo’s axes sympathetic to your cause,” Sylvie said neutrally. “But he will have other priorities. I wished to give you something now you might use.”
“Not enough,” Red Tide said.
“No. I suspected it wouldn’t be.”
Sylvie withdrew a small fabric-wrapped bundle from a pouch on her belt. She handed this over to Red Tide.
“A friend gave me this, but I have no use for it,” Sylvie said. “You’ll want to keep it hidden from your cohorts, I think.”
Red Tide flicked open the bundle. Inside, a small vial of glass contained a viscous crimson substance. The puckered scars on Red Tide’s back tingled at the sight of it.
“They call it Liar’s Ink,” Sylvie said.
