Chapter 21: A Night in the Woods
They walked until the sun fell.
Skirting the edge of the marsh as the rain slowed, keeping themselves partially under the canopy as they followed the trail of destruction. With Wristy in front and Misser in the back, Armel carried their unexpected ‘friend’ whilst Cross assessed their surroundings.
At least, that’s what he was supposed to be doing. In truth, he couldn’t draw his attention from the words passing Armel and Moto.
That was the Greater Mortal’s name, apparently: Moto-Nilli of the Draknich Tribe. Armel had attempted interrogating her since they’d left the marsh, but her broken speech and blatant exhaustion made that task irksome to listen to.
The more they heard of this Dark Father of hers just made things more confusing. Moto described him as a powerful protector that was the center of all things. Her tribe worshipped him as a god, and apparently Noirites were similar enough in appearance for her to assume they were agents of this Dark Father.
Even Wristy glanced back in confusion the more they learned, and it wasn’t hard to guess why.
Cross may not have agreed with Misser’s haste to gun the creature down, but something was clearly wrong with what they were hearing.
The mere fact that she could utilize thoughtspeak implied some relation to the Sovereigns, but neither of them would ever interact so directly with mortals. They influenced species of mortals subtly: a touch of inspiration here, a shifting of weather there, ways that could be explained away as luck or misfortune.
Besides, they were in Blanken territory. Even if the Black King had some contact with them, there was no possible way the White Queen wouldn’t raise hell over it. The rules of play stated profusely that all Mortal interactions had to be determined by victories or losses in the war.
And the Queen had never lost her hold on the Quadrant.
More questions than ever before, it left an air of unease hovering over Cross and his allies. Not one of them spoke, too engrossed in Armel’s attempts to untangle the mess of nonsense Moto spouted whole-heartedly.
“This false god o yours,” Armel grabbed at the pair of arms around his neck and glanced back “What’s he look like?”
Moto had been riding on his back for some time now, and had begun yawning by the time the sun began to set.
“Rain… dark rocks…” she murmured whilst pressing the forehead of her mask into his back “Look like father… stronger… Brought danger. Chased hungry ones towards tribe… destroy woods. Draknich scared.”
Misser grumbled at that, but one glare from Wristy led him to hold his tongue.
“But you ain’t scared, eh?” Armel asked “What was you doin’ wanderin’ around out here?”
“Track hungries… dangerous not knowing… hunt lands.” She murmured, voice growing weaker as she struggled to stay awake.
At the very least it was easier to piece together than anything regarding their Dark Father. She had to be talking about the Rook, but that just brought up more questions in regards to whatever her tribe was worshipping.
Even so, Cross had to give credit to her bravery. One of the corpses in the Hive was one of her kind, so between the bugs and the Swallower it seemed clear her folk were in a lot of lesser mortals’ diets. If the Rook had torn through the swamp and displaced tons of their predators, keeping track of where the more dangerous ones went seemed as risky as it was rewarding.
“Raining dark rocks…” Cross repeated, “Is she speaking about debris from Towerfall? Think we could stop by for a resupply?”
“Nice catch, Comrade!” Wristy glanced back “Oi Cutie, point us towards the dark rain! We can beat down this false god easier with some o that stuff!”
Moto didn’t reply at first, leading Armel and the rest of them to slow down as she breathed heavily. She’d pulled her wooden mask down, head resting on Armel’s back as her breathing slowed.
“Oi?” Armel gave her a shake, prompting her head to lift as she released a low croaking noise.
“Cold body… cold dark…” she murmured whilst pulling her scale garb tighter “Tired… sleep, maybe?”
“Are you serious?!?” Misser grunted, only for Armel to hold up a hand in his direction.
“Trust me, Comrade.” Armel placed his hand atop Moto’s head “Aye, we can keep watch while ya snooze. Just point us towards the dark rain so we can get movin’ when ya wake.”
Moto raised her head before slowly raising her mask, after looking around for a moment she pointed. Nodding, Armel nodded towards Wristy, who passed him her Caster before scaling the nearest tree.
“This is ridiculous,” Misser glanced towards Cross “we just learn of a potential source of Blackstone and we aren’t making a beeline straight for it? Your weapon’s useless and Armless here’s living up to his name.”
“She’s got cold blood, Misser.” Armel looked back “keep pushin’ her too hard n she might pass out on us anyway. Trust me, I ain’t plannin’ on wastin’ time.”
They went back and forth for a moment as Wristy scanned their surroundings, giving Cross an opportunity to draw closer to Moto. He wasn’t sure why having Cold blood would matter much, but Armel was supposedly the expert in this area. Still, he couldn’t help but roll previous questions over and over in his head.
“How did you get this cloth, mortal?” he asked, interrupting Armel and Misser’s back and forth.
Moto tilted her head towards him, only then did he realize there were tiny black slits running don the center of her eyes. Those slits widened only a bit as she focused on him.
“Niljat scale… warm…” she pulled it tighter around herself before giving a pleased hiss “Leave old skin… tribe clean…”
“Let ‘er rest, Cross.” Armel snickered “Ya got questions? I can answer ‘em once she’s snoozin’.”
“And there’s a pretty good place for it up ahead!” Wristy hopped down to the dirt beside them, feet slamming into the dirt as she rose “Not too open, clear sightlines.”
A short walk over to a piece of swamp that Cross could barely distinguish from the rest. Not too far from the trail of destruction left by the Rook yet with enough cover from the Canopy to somewhat alleviate worry over Khullic. Upon arrival, Moto shifted and pulled away from Armel until he let her climb down.
With a few more tired croaking noises, she wordlessly skittered over to a nearby tree before pulling herself up into a hole under one of its branches. Despite being small herself, Cross watched as she squeezed herself even smaller into the hole, wrapping herself up in the scale garb until she looked like nothing more than a discolored patch of dark brown.
Cross couldn’t keep himself from sighing. Even if Armel was right, Cross just couldn’t overlook how much time they were wasting. He wanted to trust him, wanted even a shred of the confidence Wristy had in him.
But Misser wasn’t wrong, in this especially. There was no reason they couldn’t just lug Moto around through the night, right?
They quietly settled into the shrubbery around the tree she slept in, keeping eyes in multiple directions around it whilst listening for movement through the trees.
The rain had stopped by then, leaving them with the sound of dripping water and the chirps of lesser mortals.
One of them had decided Cross was worth perching itself on as it cleaned its antennae, a smaller insect compared to those of the hive. Instead of a large spike, it had a thin tongue it ran along Cross’s arm as its segmented eyes drank in the area.
Cross found himself distracted by it, wondering how exactly it managed to survive such a place in spite of its miniscule size. The hive made sense with how big and plentiful they were, but this was the first time Cross had seen a bug of this kind. If mortals like Moto could survive in spite of their weakness, just what was this one’s secret?
He was tempted to ask Armel, and glanced over to him only to narrow his eye. In spite of only having the small pale moon for light, he could see that Armel wasn’t keeping watch. He was just sitting in a nearby shrub with his eye closed.
The insect took off when Cross shifted to grab a nearby rock and toss it against Armel’s leg.
“Hm?” Armel’s eye opened as he looked down, only to notice Cross staring at him “Sorry Comrade, just keepin’ Chance up to date.”
“What?” Cross tilted his head “How would you-? Wait… Communion?”
When Armel nodded, Cross found his annoyance flaring up again. Armel must’ve noticed, as he raised his hand up to him before turning his gaze upward.
“A type o’ Thoughtspeak the Sovereigns used back during the first wars.” Armel explained “Real handy if two Pawns gotta keep in touch from farther away.”
“But I haven’t heard any of it.” Cross pointed out, eye widening when Armel nodded “Then-!”
“Why ain’t we all usin’ it?” Armel finished for him “Cuz it wasn’t meant for Pawns, Comrade. We die all the time, and if the Pawn you’s communin’ with dies ya get hit with feedback that wrecks ya thoughts just as bad as the haze does. Ain’t permanent, but that kinda thing’s a death sentence in battle.”
“So… if the Blanken manage to kill Chance…”
He nodded, only to pause and wave off Cross’s growing look of concern.
“Oh, it’d be way worst if I was to bite it out here.” He snickered “Between the three of ya, I can see ya findin our Rook without me. I can guarantee the comrades with Chance ain’t gonna be pullin’ off no proper hit and runs without her. That’s why most Pawns don’t use it, ya need allies that know how to not die. And seein’ how eager most of us are to jump into the grinder for our King…”
Cross didn’t believe for a second they could pull off their mission without Armel. For as much as his decisions around Moto made Cross worried, he was positive they’d be far worst off without him. Misser and Wristy were butting heads more often and the information they were getting from Moto was either nonsense or suspect.
But the risks of Communion were something Cross couldn’t ignore. If it made Pawns nuttier than the haze did, there was no telling whether or not Armel would immediately start rambling in Thoughtspeak and draw Lady Khullic right to them.
He had no idea how Chance’s part of the mission was going, for all they knew she could be surrounded and mere moments from death. Cross looked to Armel, searching for any indication that such a threat was near. If he was keeping her up to date, she would be too, right?
“Rumor has it that’s how Perry does it.” Armel said, noting Cross confusion before clarifying “Perignassi, some say he’s only managed to hold out so long ‘cuz he’s communin’ with a bunch of commanders in the Quadrant. Able to coordinate things better than any other Bishop around.”
“But wouldn’t that mean just killing one would cripple the enemy?” Cross asked
“Oh yeah, that’s why most Noirites write that theory off, but not me!” Armel closed his eye again “Sovereigns made us with certain weaknesses, so the best of us find ways o workin’ around ‘em!”
The best of them.
Cross never gave much thought to it, but the Sovereigns had made them exactly as they wanted. Everything good or bad about them, was by their design. With how inexhaustible even one Sovereign’s power was, they could’ve built them to be practically unstoppable.
But they weren’t.
Ever since they started their mission, Cross had been practically forced to acknowledge the intentional design flaws in his kind. And yet, there were plenty who not only handled those limits, but surpassed them.
Those were the kind of Pawns who could be raised to the status of Knight or Bishop, one who could fully utilize the commonalities of the Sovereigns War and manipulate them. Someone like Perignassi, who was somehow able to hold off the combined forces of two Bishops.
Cross’s gaze traveled back to Moto.
Wearing the skin of their predators and camouflaging themselves in worn trees to hide. If he had even a shred of the Draknich tribe’s ingenuity then maybe even Lady Khullic wouldn’t seem so overwhelming an opponent.
Armel must’ve noticed where he was staring, as he shifted closer before lowering his voice.
“Look, this stuff about thoughtspeak and her Dark Father is weird, I get it.” He leaned closer “But could ya have a talk with Misser? Don’t think he’s got the best impression of me or Wristy, but he’s gotta quit wavin’ his caster around, trap or not.”
Cross looked to him for a moment before nodding.
“One condition though,” he raised a finger “I want to hear more about your Stationwatch days, I’m sure you’ve got interesting tales about whatever mortals you were keeping watch over.”
Armel chuckled at that before looking back to Moto.
“Deal,” he said whilst rising from the shrub and approaching “but we’ll have to walk and talk.”
“What are you doing?” Misser asked as Armel approached Moto’s tree.
“Thought I told ya, already?” he carefully extracted the sleeping mortal from the tree “Wasn’t plannin’ on wastin’ time.”
“And ya couldn’t tell us because...?” Misser trailed off as Wristy rose behind him.
“Didn’t wanna worry her.” Armel nodded to Wristy “Now lead the way Comrade, I wanna be pickin’ through Blackstone by the time the sun’s up!”
