Chapter 19: Tracking Troubles
“Whatcha mean its busted?”
Cross tried not to let Wristy’s words distract him, keeping his eye trained on the forest behind them whilst scanning for signs of the Blanken. But he couldn’t help it. When Armel said they were going to start tracking the Rook, he made it seem like the Blackstone Pad Formal had given them would be key.
But not moments after Cross and Misser had taken up guard positions to the rear, all they could hear was Armel grumbling and Wristy voicing confusion.
He turned around, seeing the two of them kneeling in the middle of a massive trail of destruction. The fallen helm had nothing compared to the sheer number of broken trees, torn up mounds of mud, and warped landscape.
It had to have been the Rook, unless the local mortals grew to freakish proportions. Not even the constant storms could’ve uprooted some of these trees.
But the destruction tapered off towards a massive pool of water, the large mounds of torn dirt vanished into it.
The Rook had passed through, but it was obvious the general direction it was going. Tracking it should be easy, even without the Blackstone Pad leading them straight to it.
“Why’s it lookin’ like that?”
But Wristy’s comments painted a very different picture. Cross didn’t want to voice his concern, knowing that it would take no less than a second for Blanken to start firing from the tree line.
Misser didn’t seem to have such hang-ups.
“We went through a lot for that pad.” He spat as he rose and turned to Armel and Wristy “I don’t want to hear that it was useless after all that.”
“Ain’t useless Newblood.” Armel glanced back towards him “It’s definitely pickin up the Cargo’s energy reading, but it’s showin’ more.”
He turned the screen of the pad towards them, and Cross found himself stricken silent by the odd sight on it.
Glowing purple lights dotted the screen, over a dozen of them stretching so far that some barely peaked out from the edges. Cross was certain the Pad was supposed to act like a tracker, displaying energy readings from nearby Obscuris Tech. Their Rook should’ve been the only dot on it.
“Did Formal give us a faulty tracker?” Cross asked, only for Wristy to shake her head.
“Nah, had the gear checked before we left ya factory. And ain’t nothin’ so much as nicked the thing whilst the Captain was holdin’ it.”
Given how vicious the fight between Lady Khullic and him was, Cross was finding it hard not to doubt those words.
“More likely there’s other bits o’ Obscuris Tech around here.” Armel looked to the pad again and sighed “Maybe from the Tower?”
“That thing was stripped to the bone to get a signature low enough to avoid detection.” Misser bit “How much could possibly have made it this far from the ruins?”
“Don’t matter,” Armel turned back towards the massive pool of water “we can still track ‘em by the mess but…”
Armel didn’t have to finish; Cross had had a similar thought when he first saw the destruction as well. The trail left by their Rook was both a blessing and a curse. There was no way they’d lose it given its size, but neither would their enemy.
Lady Khullic could fly, and the Blanken still had Brighthomes. They could easily pick up the trail and outpace them to the Cargo. The Pad would’ve given them something else to rely on, but now their only option was to risk further engagements.
Cross couldn’t help but turn his eye to the sky, to a gap between the canopy where he could see the blue above. The rainstorms had made getting an accurate measure of time hard, but he could see that things were already darkening.
It would be nighttime soon.
While the dark would camouflage them, it would hamper their vision unless they used the cores of their casters, which would only make it easier for the enemy.
He noticed Misser was also glaring up at the sky, his face stretched into a similar grimace.
“C’mon then.” Armel shrugged before starting forward “No sense makin’ it even easier for ‘em.”
Though he said it with a smile, none of them could even humor him with a chuckle. With Formal gone and only two of them with functioning Casters, their prospects of victory had somehow managed to shrivel even more.
Despite that, they pushed on.
Armel led them around that massive watery pool, telling stories of a similar time when Formal led them on a salvage operation. Apparently, a reputation as good as Formal’s wasn’t enough to keep a crew from getting stuck cleaning up after a battle several quadrants over. While the memory was enough to get Wristy chuckling, Cross wasn’t exactly sure if piles of bodies and the ruins of Towers and Temples were comparable to the moist swamp they were trekking through.
Besides, there wasn’t an enemy Knight to worry about during that op.
Cross couldn’t keep himself from looking up. Whenever they passed under an opening in the canopy, he immediately looked for flashes of white.
With how fast Khullic was, she could scour the swamp with ease. At any moment she could drop down and rend all of them apart with barely any effort. The idea led to a cold knot forming in his veins, as if his ichor was getting stopped up by how tense he was. They’d have less than an instant to react.
But his viewing did allow him to see when what he thought to be just another thick vine started shifting high above.
He focused, narrowing his eye as that massive ‘vine’ suddenly began sliding down the tree towards them.
“Contact.” He said, bringing the others to a stop “Not Blanken though.”
The ‘Vine’ stopped moving when they did, instead coiling tightly around the tree. Cross’ eye traveled down it towards a bulbous head that lifted away from the tree, four eyes that ringed it focused their dark green slits on them.
Cross snapped his fingers to get Misser’s attention, then looked down to his Caster before nodding towards the creature.
“Calm it down, you two.” Armel said whilst waving for Misser to keep his weapon lowered “That lad ain’t doin’ nothing to us.”
“You sure, Comrade?” Wristy asked “Bugs at the hive was all eager to peck and prod.”
Armel shook his head before tossing her the Blackstone Pad and walking past them. Misser and Cross stepped aside as Armel approached the tree the creature was wrapped around. He lifted his hand up towards it, prompting it to pull its head back and split open. The creature’s inner lips were lined with hook-like teeth, the fleshy orifice released a wet hiss as it Armel came to a stop.
“It don’t eat like them bugs.” He stepped back before jerking a thumb towards it “This one’s a swallower, and we’s way too big for his diet. Musta walked into his huntin grounds. He’s just keepin’ track o’ threats.”
As Armel walked past them once again, Cross saw the mortal’s lips fold back into its place. It leaned its head forward again, tracking their movements as it curled tighter around the tree.
“Didn’t know a Pawn could be so knowledgeable of Mortals, especially for a Realm he's never been in.” Misser shrugged before following after Armel “Thought that was Bishop territory.”
“He’s our expert!” Wristy snickered “Used to be Stationwatch before the Captain snatched ‘em up!”
Cross couldn’t focus on their conversation, as he hadn’t torn his gaze away from the mortal. It had begun hissing slow and low, carefully opening its head again as it pulled away from the tree again. It wasn’t looking towards them anymore, instead its head was pointed to nearby shrubbery. A small, thin tongue poked out of the seams in its head as it began hissing louder.
Something else had caught its attention.
“Oi, keep up!” Wristy called back, prompting Cross to stifle his curiosity and hurry after them.
It took them a while, but they’d finally made it to the other side of that massive pool. Though the other side was more of a marsh practically soaked in fluids. The trees weren’t as dense, making the ones that had been shoved aside more obvious.
But many were partially submerged in the sodden ground that threatened to swallow up their legs with every step. Cross had to jerk his legs out before they sank too deep every time. They stopped where the mud pretty much descended into more water, he wasn't eager to claw his way out of another pool anytime soon.
“Can’t keep this up,” he said “We should circle around this place too and hope the trail picks up again soon after.”
“Wouldn’t be a problem if the tracker worked right.” Misser grumbled, causing Wristy to glare back at him.
“Might be the best choice, actually.” Armel eyed the marsh before them “We’s too heavy for this, and there ain’t no cover. Blanken could turn the place into a killbox with ease.”
Cross gave a sigh of relief; thankful they wouldn’t be risking the marsh. But as the others began skirting the tree line again, he found himself looking up towards the sky again.
With how long that Mortal had held them up, there was no way Khullic wouldn’t be over them. In fact, not even a Brighthome had passed overhead since the Tower. Surely, they’d have spotted one patrolling by now.
It made him look back the way they came.
Were they being flanked? Or maybe Chance was doing a better job at keeping the enemy distracted than he’d anticipated. Maybe the Blanken had less forces leftover than they’d assumed.
He wasn’t given long to ponder the possibilities, as he saw a bush shift violently a ways behind them. Then a closer one trembled as well. The shaking leaves grew closer as a familiar hissing drew near.
“Swallower’s back.” He informed the others.
Misser groaned at that, but looked to his Caster before turning to Wristy and Armel.
“You’re sure we don’t have to worry about it?” he asked, prompting Armel to chuckle.
“No matter how big, Mortals are harmless to us.” He stated before nodding towards Cross “Oi, give ‘em a bop on the noggin and he’ll learn to keep back.”
An odd turn of phrase, but Cross got the picture well enough.
Cross faced the shivering shrubbery and raised a hand, balling it into a fist the closer the hissing noise got. He wasn’t sure how hard he could strike without killing it, since the insects in the hive were crushed easily without effort.
By the time the shrub before him began trembling, he resigned himself to unfurl his hands and just slap it instead.
But what emerged was not the long-bodied reptile from before.
A short figure burst free from the shrubs with long flabs of scaley skin flying behind it. It gave a quick intake of breath upon spotting Cross, but the loud hiss behind it spurred them to keep going.
Cross watched it sprint past him on two dark purple legs covered in bumpy, sandy skin that was barely covered up by the flabby scales. A new mortal, fairly odd looking even compared to what he’d seen already.
The Swallower emerged right behind it, shooting out from the shrubs and darting towards the smaller mortal with its head split wide.
“Grab ‘em!” Wristy’s yell snapped Cross into action.
He swung his arms forward and clamped his hands around the rear of the Swallower. It jerked forward, but Cross’s grip held firm, halting its inertia as Wristy lunged forth and wrapped her arms just under the Swallower’s head. It thrashed in their grasp as the smaller mortal practically stumbled into Armel’s grasp.
“Gotcha!” Wristy laughed as the Swallower struggled, only for her smile to disappear as she glanced over it “Damn it, Misser! Stop pointing that thing!”
Following her gaze, Cross found Misser once again pointing his Caster towards the writhing Swallower. Misser narrowed his eye at Wristy as she repeated the order, but did lower his weapon as Wristy looked back towards Cross.
“See? Mortals ain’t nothing!” she declared before adjusting her grip “Sovereign’s built us right!”
Cross just nodded along with her, but found his focus more on the Swallower. Its struggling slowed as Wristy hugged it close, practically nuzzling it until it went still.
“See, they’s all just cute! Ain’t the type o thing to get angry over.” She began moving, dragging the head of the Swallower until it was facing the shrubbery it had just emerged from “On me, let’s get this cutie back to survivin'!”
Cross waited until Wristy let go before loosening his grip. The moment the Swallower’s head touched the ground, it lunged to the side and dove into the watery marsh instead of the shrubbery. Its body twisted side to side as it swam away, only to poke two of its eyes over the water before submerging again.
“Really wants to make a meal outta the lil’ one, eh?” Wristy noted before looking to Armel “Guess they’s lucky we was here for it, eh Armel?”
Armel didn’t respond, leading the rest of them to eye him as he stared down at the smaller mortal in his arms.
When it wasn’t moving, Cross recognized that the odd scales weren't actually attached to the mortal. The rough purple of its actual limbs were distinctly different from the scale-skin cloak it had wrapped around itself.
It raised a four fingered hand and rubbed its claws along Armel’s head whilst making noises, weird combinations of grunts and gasps that made Cross narrow his eye. The Swallower had used its hiss for intimidation, but he couldn’t tell what this Mortal was implying.
That changed when the mortal shifted its face to the side with another hand, revealing that what looked like a flat face was actually a dark wooden mask. Underneath were bulbous blue eyes with pruple slits running down their centers, the slits widened as a mouth lined with sharp teeth stretched into a smile.
“Draknich Mierchal!” it spat before closing its eyes tightly.
And then, they all went still as they heard its next vocalizations.
For they came not from its mouth.
“Thankful… dark ones …”
