A ridge nearby was a decent place to stop and watch a mountain become a volcano, at least partially. Hot lava was boiling and bubbling out of fissures and fractures that hadn’t been there before, and the frozen upper limits of Mount Ingot were starting to melt, causing mudslides and avalanches to add to what was going on.
“It’s spreading southeast,” Kris pointed out coolly, pointing to an attaching ridge that was visibly steaming.
“Towards Mount Tukal,” Hundig noted somberly, “and whatever the virindi did there.”
“Wait, wait,” Milee complained. “Didn’t we vivify all the virindi energy and mess up whatever they were doing?” The petite dark-haired Roulean Autobow user had a ‘gotcha’ moment on her face as she clutched Hail closely, watching the destruction rippling and erupting slowly on the slopes of the mountain.
Lord Mick just lifted an eyebrow at her. “Aye, so we do. Why be those things in conflict?”
“I… but,” she scrunched up her face in thought.
“He was draining the virindi energy before their whole scheme blew up, probably as soon as it started so they didn’t realize what was going on,” Rogar grunted from her other side, giving her a friendly slug on the arm.
“Oh,” the junior Scout murmured, clearly embarrassed.
“Life lesson. Even golums can be sneaky underhanded shites,” the Mick said in his best pontiff’s tone, drawing chuckles from everyone. “Thinking we’re going t’ be seeing that thing again, aye?”
“It knows how to tap ley lines and siphon energies, and not just those related to earth and fire,” I pointed out for everyone. “We are definitely going to see it again.”
“Always nice to have something t’ look forwards to in the future,” the Mick said brightly. “On that note, do we go after Santa Sclavus’ place, or no?”
“Just how badly do you think they have been upgraded or sidegraded since the Fall, Lord Mick?” Kris asked conversationally.
His mouth opened, then closed, head turning to where the lava-filled mineshaft down to Scold’s lair was now oozing out bright burning molten stone. “Well, shite,” he said by way of reply. “Those were some damn tough Gumdrops…”
“I don’t want to be involved with tanking Knath explosive volleys with the power of Incantor spells,” I said carefully.
“They DO run out of mana... eventually,” Lord Mick remarked lightly.
“Aye, that’s always fun, playing dodge the many, many volleys of magic…” Kris drawled, and they all snickered. “I’d say we are going to save this until we get some upgrades on the defensive ends.”
“And the money for that, Highness?” the Mick asked seriously. Upgrading Gear took some serious cash.
“Ryin, can you pull up ore, or are we going back to the olthoi north?”
I frowned, looking at the lavaflows being belched up by the mountain. “I can’t Commune to find the mineral veins. I can do localized divination searches, but that is very time-intensive.
“Seriously, the olthoi north is our best bet. It shouldn’t be too hard to make ten goldweight and more a day per person off the Gem Cores there. Good teamwork and the ability to Infuse is really important when facing so many Elementals. We can only pick and choose our targets so much, after all.”
“Can the team hang?” the Mick asked reluctantly.
“No, but we can get them a quick Karmic boost that will test out a lot of their archery.” The Roaches all perked up at Kris’ words. “There’ll be plenty to go around, so we’d like to have several Fellowships working that. Briggs has a Fellowship he’d like to bring in on it, and Kopf is setting up another one. If you’ve another team or two of Scouts you’d like to drag into there, more than welcome.”
He gave her a side-eye. “That much Karma? Even compared to something like this?”
“Remember the Wisps?”
“At the Black Mound there? Aye?” he asked curiously.
“All of Asheron’s Island, warring with Elementals spawning just as damn fast.”
His dark eyes opened wide, as did everyone else’s. “That… is a lot of wisps. And Elementals,” he pointed out. “That’s why ye were insisting on the Returning Rocks and the OMA Quivers…”
“The struggle will be keeping everyone fighting and firing as long as possible to harvest as much as possible. We’re working on stamina Potions, because no spellcasting whatsoever.” Kris also held up the glittering Prismatic Stone in the pommel of her Sword. “Also, need to field test a new batch of these!” she grinned.
“Oy, freebies!” Mick said enthusiastically.
“The Core Gems we brought back from the Olthoi North were perfect for them… as was seeing Candeth Martine’s magic from where he’s trapped on Asheron’s Island,” I nodded along.
The Mick had heard that tale, but not the Roaches, who clamored for it, and Kris was happy to unload it.
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
------
In the end, we opted to return to the main forces where Briggs was pressing the last of the Gotrok. They had been plagued by desertions after their defecting kinsmen went around and told their tale, and the mines with all the Summons armies had only token forces left to control the lugians.
The force that had marched down to Linvak Tukal was already gone, cut down by merciless pincering actions that had first taken out the real commanders with ruthless precision, then chased down the Summoned who had fallen out of command and were returning to their Spawn points.
The senior leadership of the Gotrok had wisely fled, heading for their holdings in the Direlands along the southern landbridge there, led by Muldaveus and fracturing even then. The Renegade leader was a powerful combatant, aided by the virindi in order to gain more influence among the lugians, but the Tukora were now riven by doubts and umbrage at what their paymasters had done. The report that Tukoras had once again been allowed to list their names in the Hall of the Ancestors was a huge thing for the arch-conservatives among them.
Chasing down Summons and taking out them and their Spawn points was not something that required a Warlord to coordinate. It did require a lot of bodies going through mines and over the landscape looking for Summons standing around and then taking them out, but that was something for coordinating squads, not maneuvers, formations, and troop positioning.
If there were followers of the Green Hunter tailing those fleeing lugians to wherever their hidey-holes were, well, that was only to be expected...
-------
“I’ve got you covered,” I said simply, and closed the door to the room on the two of them. The Mick and Korvus, Briggs’ right-hand man from Stonehold, were waiting there with their personal teams.
“I’ll not be moving from here. Place yourselves as you wish. This will probably take at least twelve hours, according to the Princess.” My Disk flipped out and spread itself beneath me.
“I gather this be not one of those romantic moments that get excitable?” the Mick asked with false lightness.
“I expect them to totally trash the entire building by the time they are done,” I admitted. “And not in a good way.” I paused as I regarded the two of them, both hard men, the Stoneholder a good twenty years younger than the Mick. “This is a past-life regression. Both the Princess and Briggs are reincarnated souls. It’s a requirement for being who and what they are.
“Moreover, they are linked souls… souls who died horribly to great evil.”
Both men blinked, looked like they were going to say something, and then shut up as I continued.
“This won’t change who they are. It’ll be like watching a real-time play of someone else’s life, as seen through their eyes.
“But they’ll know. Know what was done to them, and they are likely going to be extremely pissed at someone.”
“That sounds pretty messed up,” Korvus murmured cautiously.
“They’re going to be out of it the whole time, so we look after them for this. Set up your people as you like.” I made a shooing motion. “I don’t expect troubles, but I also don’t not expect them. Go.”
I closed my eyes and began extending my awareness out and around on several levels. Like I said, I didn’t expect any problems. There were a lot of armed people around, the two were both Forsaken and nobody active was Scrying on them… but if someone was looking at us who was manipulating events, they might want to use this opportunity for something.
But those whoevers shouldn’t know exactly what was going on, and if they tried something stupid, well, we could only be aware of it.
========
Minimum of an Eight. Preferred at Ten. Best at Twelve or later.
It took a lot of spiritual power to slide back through the reincarnation barrier and take a look at who you had once been. If you had weak spiritual power, you could be overwhelmed by your past life and your personality warped or even replaced completely by your previous self.
Thankfully, the advantage was with your new incarnation in such matters, as your past self had died, and that finality was a part of the whole process.
Plus, reincarnating as a Rantha involved the massive amount of templating involved in becoming one… and then the process of breaking the Hag Curse was a tempering experience like no other, basically yet another ‘death’ in the cycle of the soul as the most powerful and pervasive Curse in existence changed a human Forsaken into a Rantha Hag.
No, she had no fear of what was going to happen here, only grim anticipation and some curiosity.
She was a Rantha, and loved being one. At the start it wasn’t that impressive, and the amount of Karma required-! But once it got rolling, the ability to naturally advance past human limits was just too priceless. It didn’t matter who she’d been, could it be better than who she was now?
The start of new life, the point where the Curse of the Hags swirled in, and instead of an Evil soul going to be reincarnated as backhanded reward and punishment alike, a soul murdered by Evil, prime and ripe for vengeance in a new life.
That continuity was the gate to her previous life, and Kristie Rantha-Briggs followed it through to the bright, hazy blur of new life, so similar to her wakening moments right after Sage Sama spoke to all Ranthas…
“Oh, my little Eleonora is awake…”
Eleonora? Kris had a terrible foreboding, then realized that was par for the course. She couldn’t focus on anything yet, only experience what a babe had experienced...
---
Eleonora of the Bellenesse Clan. A Viamontian noblewoman, from one of the most powerful clans of Viamont, leaders and generals of the conquering Viamontian armies.
Blue-skinned descendants of Empyreans who had interbred with Isparians while visiting in the ancient past, and ridden that reverence for their ancestry into racial superiority and bias against mere pureblooded Isparians, considering themselves a superior species.
But Eleonora had never fully bought into those lessons, even as a child, and her mother being born of Silveran royal blood did not hurt. Books from Roulea held words that cut through the self-serving indoctrination of the noble family, hinting at greater truths and equality that a child could see clearly, even if her elders turned blind eyes and hard hearts to the suffering that was caused by their beliefs.
That belief had grown into contempt for the Corcosi and the way they ran Viamont, decadent and arrogant in their inherited positions of power.
The lessons in swordplay and a warrior’s spirit were not things she skimped on, knowing that only martial power was truly respected in Viamont, and she had to be strong to defend her beliefs from those who seek to bury them.
Like the Corcosi that thought she was a soft persimmon to be snatched up and sampled as he pleased, even taken as a bride at his will after she caught the eye of Prince Renlen di Corcosi, the youngest prince and son of King Varicci.
Kris knew the tales, a great romantic tragedy in Viamont, but the surge of hatred that flared in her heart when she witnessed the prince kill the love of Eleonora’s life in a supposedly friendly duel was too, too familiar.
She had felt that hate many, many times when her mother and father invaded Viamont on a tide of blue-skinned blood and butchered their way through the royals and nobles of all the Viamontian Families.
She had also felt it coming from her mother and father, if not her siblings. The grim thoroughness with which they battled Viamontians was not a coincidence…