Silent teams of Aun hunters pulled away from the Wagon, hopping off their Disks and heading for their targets in the dead of night. They’d rejoin us as the Mick headed counter-clockwise around the island.
The Wagon headed overland, Detects ranging out ahead and spotlighting the Summons who’d managed to avoid being targeted by my Darts two days before.
If there were real ones, Aun teams dismounted to track and eliminate them, as they were the priority. The hunters could also bring down Summons and vivisize the spawn points as needed.
The Aun intended to settle the northern side of the island, which meant clearing it of Spawn Points entirely. I had most of the points Mapped out and could later mark each location as needed with a Shaped stone post, but they’d be putting down Totem markers on any they killed here and vivisized.
Really, the only locations anyone was concerned about preserving were the major spawn point on the south side of the island leading up to the Deru Tree, and perhaps the Dungeons. Nothing else was of much import, and it was long noted by now that stuff simply grew better around vivisized spawn points. Human gardeners were going to be brought in to establish crops around such places, particularly fruit trees and vines and the like, as the Aun didn’t really like formal gardens overmuch, preferring patchwork and naturalistic approaches to such things.
It was all fine by us.
By the time the Wagon rounded the curve, a hundred scattered moarsmen were dead, nineteen of them ‘real’, and a bunch more Summons points were vivified and Sealed. The alarms from the sea had long faded out, the source lost in the bloody rampage of the feeding frenzy, and the moarsmen still had no idea we were here.
The southwest side of the island had the cove where the major forces of moarsmen Summons had been in the past, and was actually the default goal before we’d stumbled in and found so, so many more active on the northern side of the island. It covered one of the two approaches up to the Deru Tree that stood atop the pool at the top of the island.
We came zipping around the edge of the cove on the Wagon, my Detects ranging out, and everyone watched a whole lot of X’s start painting themselves into the HUD.
The Shield Aspirants leapt out of the Wagon, drew up their shield wall, and the Mick marched us forward as Sir Darvis marked the living from the Summons and made them his special priority to get dead.
I announced our presence with a full salvo of Chained Shards, unleashing on everything and zipping in all directions, setting the moarsmen on Silver Fire with all kinds of Kickers. The Summons yowled and shouted and ran in our direction as the false dawn was rising behind the mountain, a tide of Burning figures wreathed in multiple hues of magical flames, and the killing began.
We weren’t even half done before the Aun hunters had rejoined us, and the slaughter proceeded quickly thereafter.
-------
“Ye smell that?” the Mick asked.
“Kind of hard not to,” I muttered, and the senior Aun following us huffed in amusement, also wrinkling their noses.
“Specifically, that be rotting moarsmen, what laid out in the sun too long,” the Mick went on incorrigibly. “That means real ones, an’ really dead.”
We were moving up the steep hillside that was the route up to the Deru Tree. The other route involved going to the Empyrean Lighthouse via a back route, and then jumping from it to the hill overlooking it nearby.
“This path has seen much traffic,” Aun Rualtus pointed out. At times we were almost on all fours as we advanced up the steep path. He pointed gravely at the marks of many claws scratching the stone, or pressed into the dirt.
“Aye, leading the Summons below up this route to do battle with the Deru Tree,” the Mick agreed. There was a MEEP up above, and a whisper of motion. The bisected bright orange remains of a zefir tumbled past us, away and down. The Aun made faces and warding gestures against the damn pest in complete tandem, not liking the wicked little faeries any more than we did.
The path veered left, clearly visible with the amount of recent traffic, but there still didn’t seem to be any guards or anything around.
“Well, looks like they pulled everything back t’ deal with the small problem that looks back in me mirror,” the Mick commented, also noting the lack of guards and sentries. The Aun huffed and grinned toothily as he led the way up the last stretch of steep hill trail, scrambling over it until he could surmount the edge above us, then step aside so we could follow him up.
The Deru Tree’s Distant Invisibility Field didn’t work this close, and it towered up before us, over three hundred feet high, a massive leafy tree in the oaken style, shading acres of ground as it spread out.
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A great clear pool surrounded the tree proper, almost like a fountain, and another lower shallow pool that was nonetheless seething with a lot of hydromantic power surrounded it, dotted with torn pond lilies, frogs, colorful bugs… and about twoscore moarsmen, who all turned in our direction the second they noticed us.
None came charging our way, staying instead around the fountain pool of the Deru Tree, or right up next to it. At the far left side of the lower pool, water poured off the side of the mountain in an unending stream, and by my reckoning, multiplied itself in free fall. By the time it hit the bottom of the mountain a thousand feet below us, it had gained a hundred times its volume as it fell on the massive Falatacot Temple of Xik Ru below us.
“Shelled,” huffed Aun Genkutua, pointing, and our eyes were drawn to the far side of the pool, where a pod of the larger but less powerful niffis and nefanes was floating at the edge of the pool, ignored by and ignoring the moarsmen as they hovered there.
A half-dozen moarsman corpses were scattered in the water and in the mud near them, along with perhaps the same number scattered elsewhere, rotting in the sun and the bugs clustered upon them merrily.
“Lord Mick…” I murmured, staring at the nauts.
“Ah, fuck me,” he replied softly. “Lass, I totally fergot that one little detail.” He chopped his hand at the spawn of shelled tentacled Aquatics. “That spawn o’ nauts has always been there, near as I kin tell.”
“So, the Deep has always had servants up right next to this Deru Tree?” I asked, looking right and left.
“The Deep ignores the Deru Trees?” Aun Rualtus asked curiously. “Their relationship is not adversarial?” His surprise was evident. “We may have read their relationship entirely wrong, Isparian friends!”
“It sure is looking that way, Hunters,” the Mick agreed with a slow nod. “But, we do know it be no friend to us, even if it be not an active enemy. It do mean that the moarsmen below be not obeying the Deep if they be attacking here. If that be true, only one other force be capable o’ commanding them.”
“There are Dark Falatacot here,” I agreed with him, eyes narrowed. “They co-opted the Beach Temples, took over the landscape spawn, and exerted control over all the real moarsmen, too. Maybe.”
Electrum Soul Essence sparked on my face, drawing a set of ornate whiskers and dabbing my nose, all in white. The Aun could not stop themselves from smiling when they saw my Whiskers of the Wild, although the fact I had them was not a great secret or anything, I just didn’t bring them out very much.
“Elder Tree of the Deru!” I called out in Magevoice. “I am the Lady Magos Ryin! I and my companions have finally managed to reach this island, and have come to succor you! We ask your guidance in what to do and how to proceed with the moarsman, sclavi, and other creatures upon the island of your Domain!”
The great green leaves of the Deru Tree actually rustled as one, and for a second glowed with the light of the dawn, an awesome sight to see. The Aun went right down on their knees at the sight of such a powerful spirit responding to me.
Its powerful response broke across me, and I radiated it out to the others.
The moarsmen are alien creatures brought back by the Priestesses of Light long ago. They serve me well in this place, but they are not born of nature, and their lives are not missed. They disrupt the natural cycle, they are not part of it.
The sclavi are also servants of the Priestesses, and also unnatural, reproducing only by magic. They will also not be missed, and none will serve me, only the Priestesses.
The rivals of the Priestesses who once tended to me have claimed their Temple and exerted their control over the sclavi and moarsmen which they created from lesser creatures long ago. They are attempting to control me, but dare not enter the area of my pool to do so.
I glanced at what I’d just been told was effectively a whole pond of Holy Water. I imagined it plummeting down behind the Temple the Dark Falatacot had stolen was also very undesirable!
“What of the niffis, the nefane, and the other servants of the Deep, Elder?” I asked it immediately.
The Deep is of the deeps of the waters, and we are of the land and sky. There is no conflict between us. The Deep has its concerns, and we have our own. We do not meddle in one another’s business, although establishing our boundaries may create short moments of conflict.
“Well, isn’t that a kick in me nethers,” Lord Mick sighed. “Ye learn something new every day, aye?”
I bowed to the ancient Tree. “Elder, we will attempt to deal with the invading Falatacot of the Dark and drive them from your shores once more. The shamans of the Aun will visit when we are done with that task, and see if you wish them to take up the role of caretakers in honor. While their ancestors were born on a far world, they are close to the land, and you will find them at least as respectful of you as the Empyreans, who also came from a far world.”
The Tree sent back a pulse of quite anticipation, and I saw the short tails of the two Aun tonks with us quivering in delight and awe.
There was talking about gods, and then speaking with what was truly a great and powerful spirit! Hehvun had sent its magic, but had not spoken where they could hear…
---
The Mick held onto Crown as I walked out past the edge of the waterfall. Flight Magic was weighed down heavily here, and without the physical contact, I’d immediately start falling towards the ground below until I reached a point the magic could sustain me, which would be less than a hundred feet off the ground.
It was fine, I only wanted an angle to survey the ground below.
The Mick and the two Aun watched the Holo rise up, painting into existence a whole bunch more sclavi than the Mick remembered, at least as many moarsmen as was present in the inlet we’d already fought in… and at least two dozen undead commanding them.
The Falatacot were naturally sensitive to Divination magic, spying on one another all the time as they did, and quickly sent out their own magicks to learn who was scying on them. Their spells fizzled as mine faded and was withdrawn, finding no target to claim.
I was just looking for their presences, not details like exactly who was holding this place.
The negative Aura of Dark Falatacot priestesses was confirmed, however. We did not have friends there.