Chapter 365: A Blood Fang Feast Part 2
“What are you all sitting down for, ey!?” Jahn shouted. “This is a night for celebration!”
The other goblins cheered and jumped to their feet. The sounds of drums and songs echoed in the night.
Tauri watched the scene unfold with a surreal expression. In a matter of minutes, the goblins that had seemed so bloodthirsty and vicious were now dancing and singing around the fire pits. Their movements were heavy, not the usual lithe steps of the dances she had seen in the city. No, the goblins’ steps resembled a warrior’s spar.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Tauri mumbled.
“What are they singing?” Plum asked with interest.
“It is a song from the old Ebon Tongue, a song of mourning for our lost ones, and for being thankful that they found their way home,” Jahn said quietly.
“Found their way home?” Plum asked.
Jahn opened his arms wide and pointed at the scarlet canopy above them, “When our people are murdered in these woods their souls wander amidst the trees, unable to truly rest until they are avenged.” He turned to Stryg and bowed his head, “You have given that to us, Stryg. You have given them rest, thank you, shaman.”
Stryg smiled softly, “I’m sorry I took so long.”
“It seems you took just as long as needed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there are two women over there who have been waiting to dance with me.” Jahn turned around and made his way to two beautiful goblins who were smiling at him coyly.
“Are you going to dance too, Stryg?” Plum asked.
“I’m not a great dancer or so I’ve been told.”
“Oh… I see…” Plum said sympathetically.
He shrugged, “I’d rather just watch and eat venison anyway.”
“So, what happened after you escaped the cave?” First cut in coldly.
“W-Well, I was captured by a poacher…” he said sheepishly.
First glared at him, “You were captured?”
Stryg hung his head in shame, “Y-yes. The poacher dragged me to the Great City of Hollow Shade to try and sell me as a slave, b-but! I escaped before he could do anything!”
“As you should have,” First nodded. “What happened next?”
“Well, I discovered I was a mageborn and I enrolled in an academy of magic. I’ve spent the last three years there…”
“And now you have returned a full-fledged shaman,” First noted quietly.
“What chromatic colors do you possess?” Second asked excitedly. “Besides green, of course. Everyone witnessed your grand display of stone magic earlier.”
“Um, well, you see the thing is…” Stryg fidgeted with his hands.
“Oh, is green your only color? I suppose that’s quite normal, nothing to be ashamed of,” Second said, though there was a hint of disappointment in her voice.
“Actually, he is far more than just ‘quite normal.’ Stryg is a prime mage,” Tauri said proudly.
“A prime mage?” Second’s eyes widened in awe, “That’s amazing!”.
“T-Thanks,” he smiled.
“...Good for you,” First nodded stiffly and unceremoniously walked away.
Stryg’s smile fell. He sighed to himself and munched on a chunk of roasted venison.
Tauri clicked her tongue, “What does it take to impress that woman?”
“At least she isn’t interrogating him anymore. So that’s something,” Plum muttered.
Stryg looked at them with surprise. “Guys… that’s First Mother, you can’t talk about her like that,” he admonished.
“Says who? She was being rude,” Tauri shrugged.
“Agreed,” Plum nodded.
“Guys…” Stryg grumbled, but this time there was a trace of warmth in his voice.
“Your friends have quite the loose tongues,” Second Mother noted coldly.
He winced, “That’s—”
Second laughed, “Be grateful First can’t hear you.”
Stryg’s shoulders relaxed and he nodded, “Right.”
“Oi, what are you doing just sitting over there?” Srixa asked as she walked over to their circle.
Stryg glanced at his friends and Second Mother questioningly.
“No, not them, you,” Srixa said.
“Me?” Stryg pointed to himself uncertainly.
“Yes, you, blue.”
He cocked his head to the side, “What do you want?”
Was she here for a rematch he wondered. Now of all times?
Srixa sighed impatiently and offered him her hand. “Do you want to dance or what?”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
He blinked, “You want to dance… with me?”
Srixa smirked, “Too scared?”
Stryg grinned, “Never.” He grabbed her hand and allowed himself to be dragged into the dancing crowds.
Plum nudged Tauri’s arm, “You should get out there before you lose him.”
“Excuse me?” Tauri raised her eyebrow.
Plum smirked, “Look at those two, Stryg looks like he’s having fun with that huntress, too much fun, don’t ya think?”
“I get what you’re trying to imply but I’m not interested,” Tauri said indifferently.
“I’m not implying anything,” Plum batted her eyelashes innocently. “What I am saying is that Srixa is the greatest hunter of their generation. Stryg once told me the boys fawned over her for years, but none of them were ‘strong’ enough to handle her, or vicious enough… My point is Srixa might have met her match, so I suggest you get out there and start dancing before it's too late.”
“I’m not interested in any of that and I’d appreciate it if you stop trying to imply there is something between me and my sister’s fiancé,” Tauri said coldly. She pushed herself to her feet and walked off into the dark.
“Hey, where are you going?”
“Anywhere but here,” Tauri snapped and left without another word.
“…She’ll be back,” Plum said confidently.
“You know your orc friend well,” Second noted. “And you seem to know about our hunters too.”
Plum almost jumped in surprise. She had forgotten the Mother was still here, watching her with cold calculating eyes.
Plum cleared her throat and forced herself to smile, “Stryg used to tell me a lot about his childhood. Where he grew up, the people around him, the way they treated him…”
“So you know Stryg well, then?” the Mother asked calmly.
“Mm, you could say that. I’ve seen his struggles. I’ve seen the way this place affected him,” she sighed, “Even when he was hundreds of leagues away, this place always held a certain hold over him. He always wanted the approval of this tribe even though your people always made fun of him because he was weak. Strange, no? They hated a child because he was weak,” Plum shook her head in disbelief. “Well, look at him now, no one’s laughing, are they?”
“Is that what you think we did here? Laugh at him?”
“W-Well, not exactly.”
“Then what are you saying?”
Plum shrugged awkwardly, “All I’m saying is that I’m proud of how far Stryg has come. And I’m sure Sigte would have been proud of him too.”
“Sigte…?”
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to mispronounce his name. How did you say it? Sig-tay? Seeg-tay?”
Second Mother gave her an odd look.
Plum winced, “I really am sorry, I’m not very good with names. Could you say it one more time?”
“...It’s pronounced Sig-tee.”
“Right, Sigte, with a hard e sound, yeah, that was it, hehe,” Plum laughed awkwardly.
“What about Sigte?”
“Oh. I was just saying Sigte would have been proud of Stryg. You know, since he was Stryg’s teacher and all.”
Second narrowed her eyes, “Do you know what Sigte means?”
“Um, I’m not particularly well versed in Sylvan lexicon…”
“Sigte is an ancient blood rite made between two individuals. It is a symbolic gesture, and though not magical in nature, it is deeply sacred to the pair involved. Sigte itself means ‘One life above all others.’ The Sylvan people believe that a tribe’s needs must be placed above any single life, as such the Sigte blood rite was deemed selfish and immoral, and was in the end made forbidden centuries ago.” Second Mother glared at her, “So why does a drow girl know of one of our people’s most secret and forbidden rites?”
A cold shiver ran down Plum’s spine. She smiled weakly, “L-Like I said, Stryg used to tell me stories about this place. I don’t know anything about a blood rite, but Stryg did tell me stories about his teacher, the hunter Sigte.”
“The Blood Fang tribe has never had a goblin, hunter or otherwise, called Sigte. No one would have dared call themselves such a name.”
“O-Oh…” Plum’s blue eyes suddenly lit up, “Maybe it was changed!? Stryg told me Sigte was an outsider because of his old tribe’s wrongdoings. He later joined the Blood Fang tribe with Sixth— I mean Fifth Mother.”
“…Fifth Mother did indeed appear before our tribe as a Nameless. Her original tribe had been destroyed for various crimes against the Sylvan and the Mother Moon’s ways. But Fifth was alone, there were no other Nameless with her that day.”
Plum frowned, “That… That doesn’t make sense.”
Second stared at her with uncertainty, “Drow girl… how much did Stryg tell you about us?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You said Stryg told you about this place, our village, our tribe… Did he tell you about the Mothers?”
“Yeah, he said the Mothers are the ones in charge of raising the tribe’s young. The children are raised as a collective, right? It’s to promote unity within the tribe I think?”
“And did Stryg ever tell you how a Mother gets her name?”
“Um, something about hierarchy?”
“Something like that. There are usually five or six Mothers in a tribe. Each woman gives up her name as a sign of dedication to the Mother Moon’s ways and is instead given an ordinal number based on her age and when she joined the sacred tribal path. The eldest and matriarch of the tribe is always called ‘First.’ The next oldest is called ‘Second’. The one after that is ‘Third’ and so on.”
“Seems a little extreme to give up one’s name, but I suppose it inspires… conviction?” Plum chuckled anxiously.
Second Mother ignored her and looked up at the evening sky deep in thought. “…Did you know First and I were there that night? It was a new moon. It was dark, far darker than tonight. The night Stryg was born. First and I helped deliver him into this world. We were barely 20 years old. Back then they called us Fifth and Sixth Mother.”
“So you were the youngest of the Mothers?” Plum surmised.
She inclined her head in a subtle nod. “There were four Mothers older than us, yes. Tell me, what do you think happened to those women?”
Plum furrowed her brow, “…I guess they died? Stryg told me Sylvan goblins don’t live very long lives in Vulture Woods. The forest is very dangerous.”
“It’s true, the hunters, gatherers, and others who are forced to venture outside the village walls tend to encounter death in the woods one day or another. But rarely does a Mother wander far from the village and when she does the hunters make sure the area is safe. After all, the Mothers are in charge of raising the next generation. We cannot afford to risk our lives on dangerous outings. As such, Mothers tend to die of old age.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?” Plum whispered uneasily.
“Does our First Mother look old to you?”
“N-No?”
“That’s because she isn’t. But a tribe’s First Mother should be old; an elderly woman who has earned the title after accruing wisdom throughout her long years of service to the tribe. And yet, our First Mother isn’t old. In fact, she was quite young when the title of 'First Mother’ was thrust upon her many years ago. Why do you think that is?”
“Because…”
“Go on, think it through,” Second whispered eerily.
Plum licked her lips and swallowed hard, “Because… the ‘First Mother’ before her died before her time?”
“Four ‘First Mothers’ died long before their time.” Second leaned in close, her yellow eyes cold and wide, “What do you think happened to those four women?”
“I… I don’t know…”
“I think you do. Deep down, you suspect it at the very least.”
“No, I don’t. Y-You’re wrong.”
“No, I don’t think I am,” Second smiled bitterly, “You claim to know him well. So some part of you must have realized the truth… that Stryg killed those women.”
Plum’s face paled with worry. “You’re lying…!”
Second Mother looked the young drow over curiously. “How well do you really know your friend, Stryg?”