It was a sobering, difficult meal, and not just for me. Twenty three keelish sacrificed themselves to the swarm, their spent strength adding to those still able to fight, to flee, to survive. The desperation that had only begun to seep into the swarm solidified into a hardened resolve, a willingness to do whatever it took to ensure that as many of the swarm could escape and eventually return the indignity and pain we suffered tenfold.

It hadn’t been long since I’d made the decision not to eat intelligent beings, but I couldn’t reject Tashia’s and the others’ sacrifice so callously. They had made the conscious decision to die for my survival, and though the flesh tasted like ash in my mouth, I ate until I was sufficiently filled to continue our maddened flight. There wasn’t a bone left behind, some collected as totems of the dedication of those who came before us, others crunched and chewed to extract every last scrap of potential nourishment. Three hundred and thirty two keelish remained, less than one third of my original swarm. I couldn't say whether or not we would still qualify as a swarm or not, but our desires and hopes were wholly united. We would escape, and we would grow to become something that the Veratocracy feared.

Just as we finished our meal, the rumblings of thunder began to fill the air. How had that bastard not exhausted himself yet? Were there more than one of the Windspeakers? At least, with enough eaten to give the swarm sufficient energy to resume our flight, I nodded to the other six with [Fanatic’s Fortitude]. We spread out, not needing to give each other as much space as before, and with a single cry of “VICTORY!” and an echoing response of “BY FANG AND BLOOD!”, we resumed our flight.

[Varali POV]

“This is all your fault, you know. You damn Nahrs are always this way. ‘No, I can do everything myself, don’t worry, I’m the smartest person around, I’m the strongest, I’m the best.’ Learn from your betters, and maybe you won’t make everyone else’s life harder. There’s a reason the Alniyh’s have the Gran Verat’s ear while your lot are relegated to the army.” High Lord Alniyh held nothing back as he continuously raged at Tariel. Ever since Tariel had run off and begun hunting the keelish, the High Lord had been irate. Now that Tariel had rejoined the rest of the squad, he couldn’t escape the High Lord’s constant haranguing.

Like I said, this guy is the kind that likes to kick the weak. Now that someone strong is in a position where he can make them miserable? He’ll never give your handsome captain a chance to forget it. The captain did mess up in a big way, though…

Fen seemed to pick up on Varali’s anxiety at the thought of the murderers escaping. Not like they’ll be able to escape anyways! They’re too slow, and even though they’re running so fast that they’re leaving behind the weak, they won’t be able to escape us for too long.

Varali had enjoyed the opportunity to strike down the keelish that, in increasing numbers, were left behind by the rest of their murderous brethren. Too disloyal to protect their weak. Varali scoffed at their lack of desire to protect the weak among them–not only were they human murderers, but they were disloyal too! An embarrassment of a species, one she was only too happy to engage in the eradication of. After sending a searing lance of flame to impale and kill three more keelish, Varali refocused on the High Lord’s words, wondering if there would be anything worth listening to coming out of his mouth now.

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“Your father must regret your birth, you feckless moron. How you have managed to become a captain can only be by dint of your birth, since you obviously lack the mental capacity even to reason your way out of a one-way road.”

“High Lord, please.” Lierthan’s calm voice cut through the continuous abuse that Leialt threw at the younger man. Varali had quickly learned of the Nahr and Alniyh families’ political opposition, something she’d never thought of in her hometown. Sure the brats from the Red Abbey looked down on the “uncultured” youths from the villages in the jungles, but she’d always thought that all adults would grow out of that, and that the families of Viertaal would support each other. That obviously wasn’t so, and now that the High Lord had found a valid reason to tear into the heir apparent of the Nahr household, he showed no mercy nor sign of stopping.

“Lieutenant Colonel Lierthan. I appreciate your position as this fool’s superior, but you cannot seriously think that he does not deserve this mere tongue lashing. He has alerted the keelish to our presence and has incited them to greater speed in their flight! He needs to be repeatedly and loudly reminded of his idiocy in the hopes that it sinks through his thick skull.”

“I agree with the assessment that his overzealous approach in hunting the keelish has been counterproductive. I can guarantee that he will receive a commensurate punishment upon his return to Fort Thnufir.” Varali noted Tariel’s obvious discomfort and unhappiness at Lierthan’s public agreement with the insult, even if it was merely conciliatory. “However, you have been wholly concerned with the mere fact that you now need to expend a modicum of effort in commanding your Bound ufudoluk to hurry.” Lierthan continued over the beginnings of complaints from the High Lord. “I am more concerned with where we now find ourselves.”

“And where is that?” The High Lord’s frustrations were obvious through the tone of his voice, though his face dropped upon hearing the lieutenant colonel’s response.

“We are a mere four miles from the Samutelia River. If the keelish are able to take the border sentinels by surprise, then we may be so unfortunate as to allow them to escape the bounds of our country.”

After just a moment to process, Leialt Alniyh whirled again to Tariel, whose face had changed from unhappy to truly contrite. “Your foolishness is so great that the Gran Verat himself would struggle to find a use for your empty skull! If they escape, it will be such an embarrassment that it will reflect on me!” Even as he indulged in the continued abuse of the ever-more unhappy Tariel, the High Lord encouraged Doluk to greater speeds while preparing his other two Bound to begin harrying and disposing of the keelish that continued their flight. Though the man remained a petulant, insufferable child in the body of a middle-aged man, he was the absolute pinnacle of Soulspeaking.

“Skyr, Alba! Go, kill however many you can, and don’t play with your food!”

As Leialt gave the quick verbal commands, Lierthan spoke to Tariel. “Send windwords constantly. I don’t care if you exhaust yourself so badly that you bleed from your eyes. Make sure that the garrison knows they’re coming. Every death is on your head.”