Vignette - Scavenger Hummingbirds
The new world hummingbird is a truly unfortunate shift from their original form. What once was a tiny cute bird that entertained homeowners with its bright colors and fed on sugar water from a feeder is now an omnivorous scavenger. There appear to be many different species of hummingbirds but this particular variant is bright purple with iridescent green highlights, it has a long thin, razor sharp beak and wings that beat so fast they appear to be a blur. They average eighth to ten inches long and weigh in at two to three ounces. They do not appear to have a primary food source and instead are opportunists of the first order. Nectar from flowers, berries, rotting meat and perhaps fresh meat if it's foolish enough to challenge a flock.
Their magic is a very minor control of the wind. Not terribly useful when alone, but then they are almost never found alone. In a flock the wind control becomes anything but minor, allowing them to move with incredible speeds to both evade or to attack. Many creatures have learned to their detriment that a thousand-inch deep cuts will put paid to even a massive physique.
Chapter 31
The network of wardstones expanded at a rapid pace, at least along the rivers. In many ways it mimicked the difficulty of travel in its spread. The river was easy and relatively safe, sure it had sand bars and sunken logs to watch out for, but other than the ubiquitous sturgeon and piranha's there was very little in the way of predators that threatened humans.
The prairie that led to the mountains was considerably nastier. With massive grasses and other tall plant life the sight lines were highly restricted. It made for a nerve racking progress interspersed with ambushes from snakes, raptors and the usual hogs. There were no doubt many other minor predators out there as well, just waiting to be found. Like bare feet and broken glass.
Then there was the jungle. Surprisingly it often had better sight lines than the prairie. Large ferns, bushes and massive roots still blocked the vision, but the massive trees offered considerable distance between trunks. What it did have was height. The threats in the plains were almost completely from the ground level, in the jungle it was a three dimensional threat envelope. From borrowers to arboreals everything in those vibrantly colored depths seemed willing to eat a human.
Still, in ones and twos the ward stones went up, even in those deeply shaded forest glens.
The focus on getting the wardstone coverage out did delay other pursuits. Simple foraging, exploration, rock collection they all suffered. But only for a time. As the reach of the wardstones expanded, so too did the map table and the usefulness of the scrying pool. This in turn made all those other jobs safer and easier.
Constant overwatch became possible, along with dowsing for predators. Where before it took half of a week of repeatedly recharging the pool to fully map the thirtyish mile route to paradise, it could now be done in one go.
Timothy smiled happily as he arranged a linking rune on the map table. Carefully making contact with the representation of a wardstone some ten miles as a crow flies upstream. The linking rune's mate was already attached to the scrying pool and it had been through this song and dance numerous times.
The runed rock was now the origin point for the pool with all that implied about the mana costs. He didn’t really need to be involved in mapping operations anymore. Any one of the guardians sitting around the room could run it at this point. He merely participated out of curiosity.
A curiosity that had been and was continuing to be rewarded. In the underwater world upstream they found a freshwater octopus that defended itself with an inkcloud. Only the cloud didn’t disperse in the current. Rather it maintained its opaque cloak constantly. On the plains they observed a tribe of oversized prairie dogs wave under and eat a jaraptor. That had been a real eye opener. The raptor attempted to jump away only to find the earth had reached up and shackled it’s ankles. Everywhere they looked there were new things to see.
And new ways to die.
Some of it could be very useful, the octopi might be tasty or a useful source of cooking oil. Others were only useful in knowing how not to commit suicide. The prairie dog town looked to be a straight up death zone. Nothing that attempted to move through the layers of furrows and small hills survived. Not a full passel of hogs, not a small pack of jaraptors, not even a swooping vulture. A rock launched with incredible force knocked it from the sky.
It had been very educating to watch, but now they were finally at the purpose for the last few days of mapping.
The pool’s bottom faded away as a picture took shape. A concentric series of dirt and piled stone homes, ragged and unsightly, rising in partial rings up the side of a hill overlooking the river. In the center of the rings was a much bigger, neater building, A gently pitched roof of wood held up by columns of solid stone. Standing across a hard packed square from that was a large human statue of a man arrogantly holding up a warding hand towards the jungle to the north.
“Ok, what the hell am I looking at? I don’t see a wall, I don’t see fixed defenses, I don't even see any sentries.” Arthur was the first to speak.
“I don’t see any physical defenses Arthur, but considering they are still alive I wouldn’t bet on what we can’t see.“ Regi was sitting to Timothy’s left, Joe’s right and across the pool from Arthur. Sven, uncle Rick and Gabriel made up the remaining seats in the circle.
“Bring us closer to the statue will you Timothy, It might be a known religious figure like Jesus or Budda.”
Timothy complied and the view swooped down to reveal a male face, clean shaven with a strong cleft chin and light golden hair in tight short curls against his head. He arrogantly, or perhaps possessively, looked down on the world before him. “Good artist, whoever it was but I don’t recognize the face.” Da sadly informed them.
“Not the face, but I recognize something else.” Timothy moved the view around the statue carefully observing the flexing magical field to confirm his suspicions. “Ya, here are some of your defenses Arthur. The raised hand has a great deal of magic radiating from it. Considering the symbolism I think it is forbidding the jungle creatures to approach. Nifty idea.”
It was shortly after sunrise and the four of them were planning on spending a good portion of the day watching their new eastern neighbors. Timothy grabbed a handful of blue super berries from a plate beside him, taking a moment away from the discussion to appreciate the taste. He winced slightly, one was slightly under ripe and as tarter than a cranberry.
A similar scene was repeated around the room, this was going to be a long day, no point in rushing about. Just sit back and enjoy the company while keeping an eye on the proceedings.
The town was beginning to come alive as the sun peeked above the horizon. Human forms, clad in well worn golem made clothing, left their homes and began to perform small recognizable chores like collecting water from the river in buckets and bringing in firewood to stoke the banked fires from the night before. This went on till only the sun's lower edge was barely touching the horizon. A much more nicely dressed man, tanned and dyed hides tailored into mostly form fitting armor that doubled as clothing, strode out from the largest building on the hill, raised his arms and called out in what was no doubt a resounding voice.
The villagers dropped what they were doing immediately, sometimes mid-task, and rushed up the hill to fill the square before the temple in a thick crowd. A temple, Timothy called it, because in response to another call the crowd knelt and bowed, heads touching the ground, to the statue, rising up, hands in the air another call was made and they repeated the bow before breaking into a massed song.
“Obligatory morning services. You were right on the religious angle Da, even if I can't identify which one.” Regi observed, voice carefully neutral.
The answer to that came as the song came to a close, another man stepped out from the temple, followed and bracketed by two men in the same uniform as the town cryer, different only in that they were holding seven foot wooden spears tipped with bone.
The guards were secondary, an afterthought. Their focus was on the man who led them, it matched the statue to a T.
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“Huh, that’s a bit egotistical. Fancy a statue of you in front of the hold Timothy?” Regi chuckled, but his eyes were worried.
“And let every prospective bad guy know exactly who to assassinate? No thanks, sounds like saluting someone in a combat zone.”
Arthur grunted in agreement. His stern eyes were as worried as Regi’s.
“Take it easy, let's not jump to conclusions. We have plenty of time to keep an eye on them, let's hold off on damning him for excessive ego till we get a better understanding of what's going on.”
“One thing Da, it’s not JUST vainglory. Perhaps it's not ego if he can really pull it off. 'It' being keeping the town safe. There is a significant amount of magic gathering towards Mr. Statue. Magic and something else.” Timothy hesitated, unsure and not wanting to open this can of worms.
“Oh let it out Timothy, you obviously recognize it. Just tell us.” Papa Joe gave his son a stern glance
“..Haaaa, I was trying to be delicate Da.” he ignored the snorts of disbelief from the peanut gallery. “It’s belief. They are literally worshiping him,” he held up a hand to stop the sarcastic comments, “I know, I know, you can see that. But what you might not see is the results. Magic and belief are gathering to him from… do you have an estimate of their numbers?”
Arthur’s trained eye had an answer ready. “Somewhere north of 200. I think I see the edges of more uniforms in the temple as well.”
Timothy moved the view into the temple to confirm that there were another forty to fifty uniformed men and women clustered behind the columns respectfully facing Mr. Statue, heads bowed, but not kneeling.
“250ish then, considerably smaller than Paradise or us.”
“Enough stalling Timothy, how do you know it’s belief that you are seeing?” Da was not going to let it go.
Timothy took a big breath, “A similar energy is involved in your bonds of Brotherhood. It’s also visible when Paradise summons, or maybe creates, it's hard to tell, a new spirit. Only the flavor is different. Brotherhood encompases a belief that loyalty will be rewarded, Paradise imbues spirits with respect and hope for the future along with alot of other junk depending on the spirits eventual task. This,” Timothy grimaced, “This tastes like an extreme of self confidence! He would put Farris Beuler to shame.”
He let them digest that, his father predictably finding the thought uncomfortably blasphemous. “What haven't you spied on Timothy?” Regi muttered slightly annoyed.
“You can’t be surprised, brother, my general curiosity is hardly a new thing.”
Joe looked conflicted with whatever conclusions he had drawn.“Are we worshipping Regi?”
“Haaaaa, no da. Belief is not faith is not worship. It can feed any of those things but it is not them. I say it alot but all squares are rhombi but the reverse is not true. Our vocabulary is not well adapted for magic. Belief SEEMS to be the subconscious use of willpower towards an ideal. Some believe in a god, some believe that helping others will make the world better, some believe in cold hard cash. All three use the term ‘believe’ but they have very different connotations. It’s complicated, and I’m by no means sure I fully understand it. The currently relevant bit is that the belief from any given person is limited. Everyone has only so much subconscious will to throw around. You can have many beliefs, but the top couple get most of the real force put behind them.” He considered that and decided to add a qualifier, it was rather complicated after all. “Mostly.”
They stared at him, goggle eyed, until Regi broke the awkward impasse, “You drop that knowledge bomb on us but only the last bit is relevant?”
“Yes, with belief being a limited resource your brotherhood is already in competition with Paradise's spirit raising. Peaceful competition so far, but if there is a limited amount to go around do you want to add this guy to the mix? Who knows, maybe he is the sharing type? Care to roll the dice?”
The ceremony was coming to a close, Mr. Statue finished his prepared remarks and raised his hand to mimic the statue. A large chunk of built of belief tinted magic leapt from him to empower the statue and from the statue in an ark out to a circular ward beyond the last houses. It overlapped with powerful protections that were already there. Adding yet another layer on top of hundreds of other such layers. Six plus months worth no doubt. Each layer enforcing and acclimating the surroundings to its presence. The combined result was far more potent than merely the sum of its parts.
With a regal, or perhaps arrogant, nod Mr. Statue strode back into his temple. The cryer made a call and all bowed twice again, then dispersed to pick back up where they left off.
Arthur summoned up the feeling for everyone.
“Huh.”
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The rest of the day was more of the same, with identical worship services at noon and when the sun just touched the horizon in the evening as well. Their food supply was based around small scale gardens and large scale fishing. Large oared wooden boats took several dozen villagers out onto the river trailing woven cord fishing lines tipped with carved bone hooks. The frequent use of pig bones and hide indicated that hunting trips were not uncommon and might provide an additional source of meat.
Even without the cost increased by distance the pool did not have enough charge to watch all day, so they tried to split it up into chunks. A half hour on, a half hour off sort of thing. Sure they missed a bit, but it gave a decent overview of the settlement while still offering leisure for bathroom breaks and the occasional walk to stretch out their legs.
Jenney, Patty and Gareth even joined them for portions of the day, happy to see something new, but less than happy about the contents of that newness. Only Arthur, Regi and Timothy stayed for all of it, albeit with Timothy working on runes and only half paying attention. It was perhaps unfortunate that nearly everyone was there at sunset for a late council meeting. They got to see, in nearly panoramic view, Mr. Statue pick out several attractive young ladies from the evening services to warm his bed.
“So Da, you still asking us to reserve judgement?” Regi’s humor was razor edged. They all watched as one of the young laddies gave a last reluctant look over her shoulder at the young man she had been kneeling beside, before following the other two into the temple.
“No, no I think that ship has sailed.” Timothy imagined he heard his fathers teeth grinding as he made that pronouncement.
“...How could they just let him do that?” Jenney, nerves always close to the surface these days, had a few tears dripping down her cheeks.
“People do what they must to survive.” Arthur’s voice was tired rather than angry. Tired, but not surprised. He had more experience with third world hell holes then the rest, he knew what people with power could, and would, do to those without. “They survive because of him, and they know it. Can’t help but know it since he rubs their faces in it three times a day. Hell, he probably didn’t even make any audible threats to get those three young women to comply.”
“Audible? They clearly had no choice!” Jenney was incensed.
“Clear? Then you saw something I didn’t Jenney. What I saw was ‘implied.’ Clear means something else entirely.”
“Are you making excuses for him?”
“Haaaa, this is getting old really fast, Jenney. I did not take his side, I did not make excuses for him, or any of a dozen other complaints you might have. What I did was point out a factual truth. There. Was. No. ‘Clear.’ Threat made.”
“That’s monstrous!”
“Yes, it is. But it's also quite common in third world countries or from older history. Those with power get what they want. They don’t have to take it most of the time. It’s offered up because if the masses don’t offer it they won’t get the strong man's protection. Protection they need to keep on breathing.”
“But they could resist, couldn’t they?” She was getting frantic.
“I wish they could, Jenney, but with forty odd bully boys and magic on his side? If they resisted they would wind up dead. Some might have already found that out the hard way. The number of people in the settlement is pretty small compared to Paradise or us. Even if they miraculously managed it, then what? What happens when the next beast wave rolls in?”
“Can we make this stop at least?” She sobbed out this question, horror etched into her face.
The room was silent for several seconds, Timothy eventually responded.
“...I wish we could, but they are actually one of the success stories. We can look again at that pile of bones in the ruins if you want to see a failure. For all of his faults, this Mr. Statue keeps his people alive and fed. As long as they are still alive they have hope for a better future.”
“...Couldn’t we take them in?”
Arthur spoke, “Possibly, but it would be difficult. First you would have to prevent Mr. Statue from interfering. That would likely require killing him and a number of his guardians. Then we would have to station a group of our Guardians there without defenses for a considerable amount of time while we transport all those people. That’s ignoring how they feel about it. Would you jump on a boat with a group that just killed a bunch of people? ‘Hey we killed your guards and leader, but we are better people honest!’”
Jenney looked down, tears still dripping, searching for an answer but unable to find the words.
Da moved over to embrace her, “I don’t know a way either dear, but we can make contact. Maybe his behavior has gotten as bad as it has because no one was around to disagree. We can offer an alternative. Those who don’t approve but had no other options before will be welcome to join us.”
Timothy winced, he was unwilling to disagree with Jenney in such a delicate state, but he was uncomfortable with the degree of risk that entailed. Spies and saboteurs were a real danger. One knife in the correct back could destroy the entire town. That didn’t even take into account whether this Mr. Statue would let them go or not.
He made eye contact with Regi and Arthur, a grimace and a sideways shake of the head showed their thoughts, but like Timothy, they did not speak.
Instead they sat and listened to a grown woman quietly sob at the destruction of her worldview. A desperate dream that if people were only willing to help each other, then they could all be saved.
Listened and cringed. Wishing that her Dream could come true.
Knowing that it wouldn't.