Chapter 99 - Keeper Secrets
The morning of the third day, the Blood Gorgers finally signaled their intent to continue the hunt. And believe me when I say, we didn’t waste a single minute. We wasted many, many minutes. Goblins aren’t exactly the most attentive of workers, prone to getting distracted if there’s not a taskmaster hovering over them—and even then, the taskmasters were prone to get curious about whatever shiny object had gotten the original goblin’s attention. So when we rolled out behind our scout bi-plane, we didn’t have as many vehicles as ready to go as I’d hoped.
But we had more than I’d expected.
We had more company than I’d expected, too. Word from the Blood Gorgers must have gotten around that we weren’t just a gaggle of hopeless goblins, but a competent team capable of bringing down totem beasts. It wasn’t just a contingent of Blood Gorger scouts that set off after us. A party with black and white bands followed us, as did one of viridian green, and even a set of Lura’s colors were present.
What surprised me most was our keeper climbing up on the lead vehicle and leaning down to our engine to give the sign of respect to elders.
“Elder, you honor us,” she said before settling back to ply her beads.
I glanced at the engine that glowed with a soft blue, distinctively ifrit flame, and then to the elder orc I couldn’t help it. I sidled back.
“If orc grandfather spirits are so cunning and devious, why would they help us?” I asked.
“I’m sure they have their reasons,” said Keeper. “Perhaps you should ask them.”
“But the Ifrit deny that they are orcs,” I said.
“So…?”
“So… they couldn’t possibly answer the question.”
“How convenient.” Keeper tapped the side of her nose with her finger. It was such an Earth gesture that it made me miss my old life, which made me realize how little time I’d spent missing my old life since coming to Rava. Was that a biological aspect of my new body? Goblins didn’t tend to show regret, even after an action that would inevitably lead to their death.
A series of beads spun in Keeper’s hand, and I eyed them, considering.
“I think I’ve figured those out,” I said, pointing to the beads.
Keeper raised a solitary eyebrow.
“At first I thought it was like a serial connection. Some beads for sending, others for receiving. Certain faces of certain beads represent syllables to exchange messages. I figured there must have been some central keeper operating a switchboard to keep message traffic flowing. I had thought I could optimize the whole system with a few days to iron out inefficiencies. Pass more data with less fluff, you know?”
“Clearly you no longer believe this to be the case.”
Around us, the vehicles had begun to start up.
“I think all the teams are represented on each string,” I said. “That’s why we couldn’t join late as a new team. Each one of those multicolor beads represents one of the team’s colors, and the beads that follow give very basic information on direction, intent, proximity, and status. The rest you infer and pass it off as having more knowledge than you actually do.”
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The corner of the hooded orc’s mouth twitched upwards.
“I bet I could still improve it for you—by making it what I originally thought it was. Bidirectional communication based on simple syllabic syntax and short phrases, maybe encoded in hexadecimal with a central operator sending mass notifications. One side of the beads would be out and one side would be in. I’d be happy to help you figure out a basic communications manual,” I rubbed my hands together. “If I could get a couple sets of those beads for my tribe.”
Keeper considered for a moment, and then reached out and offered the beads to me. I grinned and reached out, wrapping my fist around the links.
As soon as my skin touched them, my vision flashed white and a lance of pain shot through my temples.
In my head I heard a cacophony of voices, some shouting some whispered, but all trying to burrow into the folds of my brain.
Dawntreaders15milessouthof PIN VALE headingeast
Flatbottoms HUNT by dust storm sullied—
—FRIGHTENED bycarelessscouttingcost
finding tracks led to carcass killed by GARGA—
returningtoStAgInGcampWeStNoRtHwEsTofrookery
“Jesus!” I let go of the bracelet as if I’d been stung—and it felt like I had. My fingers steamed, and I shook them out and put them in my mouth to sooth. My hair stood on end, something the other buggy occupants had taken notice of, and humor from.
“Yer culda trld me thr were just margic warlky trlkys” I muttered around my fingers.
“And dash hopes of yours for syntax and short phrases?” Keeper leaned over. “I may not a grandfather spirit be, little brother. But I am a stranger not to mischief.”
“Clearly,” I said.
Boy, orcs must pull some serious pranks on each other. So. Orc magic. The first I’d seen of magic, really, outside of the Ifrit—though they were beings of magic, apparently, they didn’t practice sorcery. I had so many questions. Unfortunately, I didn’t think I was going to get them out of the recalcitrant keeper.
I had Girmaks take us alongside Sourtooth’s bike and made the transition over. As a human, I never would have considered jumping from a moving buggy onto a moving motorcycle, but as a goblin it was as easy as walking down the sidewalk. I’d made a gunner’s mount on the back of the chopper, and I busied myself doing a quick once-over until Sourtooth stopped glaring at me.
“You been on lots of these Stampedes?” I asked.
“Across the burning sands and the shimmering salt, ‘neath sun and moon in years remembered only by song.”
“Ah, so yes… I think. Who’s the toughest? After the orcs, of course.”
Sourtooth laughed. “Pad the ego not, little brother. Flattery gains not amongst my kind.” He scratched at his chin. “The Noll are the best fighters, man-to-man. Strong and swift, fierce and cunning. They melt into the forest as though wrought from subtle breeze. When the Stampede reached their shores, a wide berth we offered their fortress monasteries—and a Noll team was offered a place at the hunting table. However, they eat but fish and greens.”
“How about Habberport?”
“A splinter of the Duchy of Habb. Sealed within their loathsome castles, they, when my kin come to hunt. If strayed a totem to the coast, we would chase it through their market square with not a fear. Yet given time and space to muster legions from the dutchy, they are not easily turned.”
“Their prince wanted to capture me. Sent the javeline to do it.”
Sourtooth barked a laugh. “He will stop not, then. Men of the Duchy know well the portent of a goblin king grown strong. Long have they coveted this land, and long has it rebuffed them. But never has it threatened them as you do.”
“What about the strongest magic practitioners?” I asked.
Again, Sourtooth considered. “Elves are quite skilled in natural magics, but physically not so imposing. Outside of the elves, perhaps the Midnight Queendom. They read fortunes in the stars. They are impossible to ambush, on land or at sea, and through trade they have amassed great riches. They can see your movements and intents reflected in the night sky.”
“Astrology?” I scoffed. “Fortunes are best left in cookies where they belong.”
“Mock them at your peril, little brother. But they have swept greater foes than you aside as you might brush dirt from your tunic.” He pursed his lips. “Greater foes than I, as well. Numbers amount to naught, for they count them. Plans counts for not, for they see them. There is only one thing that blinds their eyes and one place they dare not tread.”
“What’s that?” I asked, admittedly now a little worried. On Earth, Astrology was junk mysticism. But I had to lend credence to the idea that maybe in this world, it might be a job that came with serious skills of tactical and strategic benefit. I’d been bitten by underestimating Rava’s version of Earth analogues before, and I needed more information about everything outside of my local sphere.
Sourtooth pointed up at the moon, nearing its eclipse. “Raphina shadows this land from the stars. It is the one place the queen is blind.”