Chapter 34: The Isle of the Blight Elves

If I had to compare civilizations like the Tripolian Empire or the Oligarchy of Ioz to a certain non sentient organism, I would choose the Stardust Shroom.

Both are quite beautiful in the way death and its systems are. How floating dots grab onto a dead carcass, using its remains to replicate more of itself, forming colors like delicious moonlight, watery suns, and falling stars.

While the Stardust Shroom is too a conqueror of dying matter, it doesn’t have a key trait that separates many sentient peoples from lawless slime. Judgment.

“What’s going on-on?” Vega yelped out, surprised that Bolato was shaking Skaldi like a child.

“Skaldi! Can you please focus?” Bolato shouted accidentally, only intending that the elf put down the comic book.

“Sorry, I just want to calm down before I have to do anything with lots of thinking.” Skaldi kept looking down as he closed the book with one hand. “Plus, I finally got to the twentieth page.” He congratulated himself as he placed the book on a stool.

“Ya guys got some problems.”

“I know.”

The Chronicles of Valentine’s presence made him feel a bit more comfortable. Like a key in a jail cell, it freed him from one perspective and story.

Bolato spread the map on one half of the table, using gold coins as paper weights. In the corner of the room were stacked sets of clothing Bolato had spare from back in Core Civitus. They didn’t smell clean, but they had a sort of radiant smell of dirt. Not dirty, just dirt.

Candles in the shape of towers glowed high. Not tall enough for everyone to see each other's faces clearly, but it allowed the map and the equipment to be seen.

“We got some shit to do.” Bolato spoke in a calm tone, grabbing a ceramic cup full of thin pencils and handing it over to Vega. And much to Skaldi’s surprise, he was handed pencils too.

“What’s this for?” Skaldi balanced one of the pencil’s on his pinkie finger.

“Well, you can read. So that must mean that you can write.” Bolato responded, walking behind Skaldi and brushing his red hair in his rough hands.

“You sure Vega can’t do this better than I can hubby?” The elf tapped the scarecrow’s shoulder.

“Come on-on. Ya can still try-try. Plus, I think ya learned a lot when I taught ya.” She handed over a tablet, pressing it to Skaldi’s chest. He gingerly grabbed it along with the pencil and prepared to write.

“You know, having you teach the class back in Fort Jao was kind of irritating. But now it’s just kind of funny.”

“Anyways, we got a plan to set up.” He stepped away and placed his hands across the table, assuming the role of commander. “We are only a couple minutes out from Tuivi’s Rest. This island is only eighty miles from Uvi Jantok, where Vega needed to transport the box thing and where we are going to get rich.”

“So, why are we stopping here? What are we doing here?” Skaldi kept his eyes to the tablet, focusing hard on the writing of the word ‘rest’.

“Well, I thought you might want to… you know…” Bolato scratched his head and smiled proudly at Skaldi.

“You know what?” Shifting his head to the side playfully, hoping Bolato was going to say what he thought he was going to say.

“Save good people in need?” Bolato patted the elf on the shoulder, as Skaldi’s face blushed a soft pink. He was conflicted in the way only good people are. The idea of a romantic get away from the pain of the recent past was something he was looking forward to.

However, he felt this warm fullness take his body as Bolato recognized his accomplishments. Skaldi had scarcely felt this cherishing of himself in years, ever since he had left the Galtian tribe.

He wondered what Vega would call this feeling. She talks a lot about rhythm and music, Skaldi held the word dissonance in his mind. The clash between two ideas or rather two motives. No matter the conflict in his mind, he knew what he wished couldn’t matter. This is much bigger than him. In fact, it's not about him, it's about them.

Valiato, Ponteni, and Ren. These folk that needed help.

“Huh. Don’t you mean help good people in need, hubby?” Skaldi playfully punched Bolato’s shoulder, making a bang on his armor.

“That’s the idea.” He gave Vega a side eye, careful to analyze her mood. Vega didn’t know it, but her crying had made wet lines down her face. “Are you in the mood to do some work Vega?”

Her mouth felt heavy and her throat weakened like an invisible force squeezed on them both. The images of Valiato and Florato wounded weren’t letting go of their grip. She was doing better, but she needed to make sure of something. Not for curiosity’s sake, but for their safety.

“Do… do ya trust me?”

“What?” Bolato sort of laughed as he asked, making Vega a bit insecure and bow her head slightly.

“Do ya trust me?” She held the tablet and pencil to her chest and cast her gaze to a shelf of merger importance. “Because I know I did nothing wrong, it's just… I don’t know…”

“Huh, never did I think you not being sure of your feelings would ever happen.” Skaldi budded shoulders into Vega, believing that he would help her to be more sociable. She didn’t look back at him but she held her head high. “Vega, we trust you. Right?”

“Yep.”

“See?” Skaldi looked up into the ceiling where Florato would be resting. He started to understand the actress' desire for Vega to have motivations outside of her ‘helping’ others. He admitted that it was, if anything, frustrating.

“Alright. Just tell me what to write down-down. Tell me what to do.”

Tuivi’s Rest translated from the Blight Elf language means Fungus’s Rest. That is artistic along with accidentally accurate name for the island. As the Pinnacle got closer the island’s fog grew thick like heavy smoke. What they soon realized, much like every person that goes there, is that fog isn’t simply mist, it is the spores.

Everyone needed to wear two scarves around the mouth and nose, even then their breathing grew what could be described as inhaling burning chili peppers. Vega was fine and the plan laid on her leading Skaldi and Bolato through.

The wounded had to remain locked in the storage room, with Amir standing guard. The actress woke up due to the taste of the air.

“Are you going to be okay? You know we could at least wait for the air to clear up in a couple hours?” Florato wished only for their safety, since she could not provide any help in combat or supporting friends.

“It’s okay lady. You and the girl rest.” Bolato answered, closing the door as he did. “And Florato?”

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“Yes?” Her eyes had purple bags as well as her cheek a violet blue. Her face wasn’t as calming of a sight as it was before.

“Tell Amir we’re going to talk after this. Make sure he sleeps too.” With that, he secured to the door, laying blankets and towels on the lock and edges.

Skaldi carried a white ceramic pot on his hip and dipped a brush into its mouth. Out came a toxic blue with flakes of green stems of whatever plant he had on hand. His hand itched as he lathered the blue agent on his face and Bolato’s.

His brow was twitching as sweat mounted on his lips. He couldn’t be sure if it would work, Skaldi was only a lucky novice at alchemy and herbs. At least, that’s what he believed.

And Vega… she sported no protection. I don’t think I need to remind you why.

Although she was now carrying Bolato’s backpack which dwarfed her in size. She looked like she was carrying a big bear with straps that weren’t meant for her.

Hands fixed and holding on to the backpack, Skaldi and Bolato stayed behind the scarecrow. Their vision was akin to blindness, only seeing yellow clouds in front of them. The ship stopped on the shore as the landing bridge now touched the beach.

“Ya guys ready?” Vega smiled at both, again not quite realizing the severity of the situation. Not that she didn’t notice the precaution of her friends, but she didn’t understand the mission.

Florato’s investigation of the Tripolian officer as well Skaldi’s stealing of their plans revealed a boon. When they plan to steal from the Lai bank, they will need plenty of resources. And it wouldn't hurt to do some damage to the Tripolians. But nothing could prepare them for their discovery.

Translated poorly from the actress and a tired Amir, the plans read…

“To the crew of the Barbed Lass,

Aboard the vessel “Soft Belly” are recipes, supplies, and plans for Operation Stomach Breaker. You may laugh now.

Soft Belly is a troop carrier led by Clan Utiamir men. Not only this but twenty of my slave officers, eight hundred men, and ten of the latest Snake Skins.

Do not mind the smell, they’re only dead.

It along with its three escorts are disguised as Kai Ren merchant ships. Its sails are that of turquoise wings.

It will land at Tuivi’s Rest on the thirteenth month and the fourteenth day of the Iozian calendar. Likely, it will land off the coast of the trade port and will be facing some resistance. Crush the local populace and use the port as staging grounds for future plans.

Jg bmm fmtf gbjmt ps Jpajbot ejtdpwfs zpvs qsftfodf, dpoubdu uif qsjftut boe if xjmm tfoe b gmbsf. Ep opu xpssz xip uif gmbsf jt tjhobmjoh, pomz uibu xipfwfs hbwf zpv uspvcmf xjmm nffu uifjs eppn.

Bddpnqmjti uijt ubtl boe J xjmm tff up ju uibu bmm pg uif dsfx hfu b qfstpobm tmbwf boe ibsfn.

Mfu zpvs mjwft cf mpoh boe nbz zpv gjoe xjtepn.

Gspn,

Boj Bsnb”

You might initially think that this might be a death sentence for the Tripolian’s efforts. What you don’t know, as well as the party, is that the last two messages were encrypted. Not even Amir could understand the codes it was written in.

Being the kind and generous ruler I am, I will provide you with the decrypted messages. They read…

“If all else fails or Iozians discover your presence, contact the priests and they will send a flare. Do not worry who the flare is signaling, only that whoever gave you trouble will meet their doom.

Accomplish this task and I will see to it that all of the crew get a personal slave and harem.

Let your lives be long and may you find wisdom.

From,

Ani Arma”

Sadly, what they knew was enough, despite not knowing about the flare…

“Hey Bolato, you wouldn’t mind sharing ya stomach? I could use one.”

“Fuck you too.” The soldier snickered at Vega’s random request. “Just keep moving forward and follow the map. If we can confirm the landmarks of where we are, we can find where they’re gonna land.”

Normally the spores wouldn’t be as thick, but with the lack of storms, the spores have been unmoved by wind or rain. The scarecrow could see a lot better while the couple are forced to wear wood goggles to even blink. Although for the elf he would only wear an eyepatch and half of said goggles.

Vega’s first steps were surprisingly slow, as the spores were so heavy that they were clinging to her legs. She remembered how hard it was to walk during a storm as great winds blew in the other direction. But it was never to the point of walking like your feet submerged in sand.

“Hey guys? The spores are touching me-me.”

“That’s because you’re made out of plants.” Skaldi reassured her.

“Didn’t Valiato say I-I was made out of cereal?”

“Just keep moving.” Bolato ordered her with a shove. All around them yellow clouds forming complex patterns that of roads and streets. In the sky certain spores glowed like candles and torches, and it almost seemed to have turned into night as the sun could no longer be seen.

The map had no real description of a trade port, any scant mentions of any location were that Tuivi’s Rest were inhabited by the mighty Blight Elves.

If Flictions Elves had power to influence their natural senses, then Blight Elves held the power to destruct and repair them. Either it is a curse or a blessing to see a Blight Elf, never in between. Not that they are spirits or nymphs, but that their very being disturbs the bodily systems of any creature that comes near. Well, except things that don’t have any system to destroy.

Skaldi in the middle of the march into the island imagined what they would look like. He imagined them as small, tiny creatures with spikes and barbs that of fruit. His only real idea of them was based on tales told to him back when he was in the Galtian tribe. Maybe they could have some degree of accuracy, he thought.

Do you know what I think, dear student? I believe with some scant evidence, that Blight Elves are the only species of monsters that remain in this world.

Again, I use the word monster as an academic term rather than to describe an immoral person or things like ghosts. But not like mermaids being the distant relative of sirens or Ani Arma’s conjured Snake Skins. Real stuff from legends that truly exist.

“We need to find the landmark of a hooked cliff, do you see it yet?” The soldier yelled out as his very voice became muffled in the spores.

“Hmm.” Vega tried to squint but soon realized she didn’t have real eyes.

“Yes-yes!” Kaliba answered for her, pointing its beak up high.

“Kaliba ya appear at the weirdest times.”

“I know.” The bird croaked.

“Okay, where is the cliff?” Bolato requested as Skaldi beside pulled out a tablet to write the position down.

“About, north east!” Vega responded, which Skaldi promptly wrote down. “Are we gonna get out of here-here?”

“Yes! Alright, turn back now and-”

As he spoke, the shore shook like a dog shivering. The sand rattled faintly starting low and rising higher and higher. Every couple of seconds, the ground would quake and then stop.

“Back away, slowly.” Bolato whispered to them as he drew a spear from his back. Skaldi couldn’t help but to try to enhance his sight. He happily tuned out his smell and taste to improve the clarity of his vision.

From where he could see, it appeared that it wasn’t a simple shaking in the ground. The sand now moved as if a strong hurricane was soon upon them, like the sea had motioned to crash the shore. But no waves tossed and turned near, but dark lemon shadows fell on them.

“~Dark construct~”.

Manifesting from out of the spores, came a great flesh that grabbed the three. The very grappling of them took the wind from their systems and they could not scream.

Bolato and Vega had no way to know what was happening, but Skaldi did. He remembered the fetish of spirit’s bone back in Vein Xinyuai, and how its very fingers were as big as his forearm. From what he could feel, the fingers grabbing him were of massive size, if a tad smaller. And he knew they were being hoisted up.

“~Being that wills nothing.~”

And the voice, Skaldi knew, couldn’t be compared to anything Iozian. If he had to connect to something he could vaguely understand, the being that had grabbed them was speaking in an elvish cant.

“~You are alone… scarecrow.~”

The hand stopped and opened up, and all of them fell onto a rocky surface. Vega quickly grabbed the couple and moved their hand to her pack. Their feet struggled to find stable ground to stand on for the land shook as the giant walked.

A great shadow descended before Bolato, of which he had to put a hand on his mask due to the great spores. Vega could barely see the head before her, but Skaldi could see in clear detail.

From their mouth and head arose spores in the patterns of cigar smoke. Each time the being shifted its head circular dots came from all holes. Teeth were long stoney stones ending in terrible ends as sharp as cleavers.

Where its eyes were supposed to be were colonies of fungus contained in a bronze metal helmet. Organic shapes fused into hard plates along the sides of the head, breaking open the top jaw and lining it with rotting skin. Out from the mouth came a mustard colored gas. These colonies touched everything except the ears.

There was no denying what he saw was true. Each ear flanked long past the shoulders and reassembled the wings of a woodland bird.

“Their spores can not be endured within twenty yards. And you won’t survive within five.” Skaldi muttered to himself, much like a person left mad at some discovery.

The being that stood before them was but the body of a titanic Blight Elf!