Tsr Bk 2 Ch 58 60

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Thank you all for reading along with me so far.

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No erotic content in this post

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Chapter 58

Saoirse emerged from the dark hall like an avatar of blood and terror. And in a way, that's exactly what she was. I immediately recognized her powerful, bloodthirsty spirit, with its ragged edge of instability. She soaked in the mana left by our conflict, it saturated the room, and so she had no shortage of power to draw upon. A reaper, like Ket, she thrived in an environment filled with death.

I realized that I hadn't seen her from the time the company approached the courtyard entrance. She must have circled around with the group we sent to block the far entrance. I might have been annoyed that she ignored the main battle, but right now she was exactly where we needed her.

The last remaining monk didn't pause or hesitate. His disregard for pain and trauma was impressive, though unsurprising in anyone who had survived Entreyu's tutelage. And now he led only a field of corpses, so there was no one left to distract him. Trapped between the company behind him, and a raging shifter ahead, he chose ahead.

With a spear clad in sunfire, the monk stabbed at Saoirse, his movements fast as lightning, but their aspects seemed almost perfectly opposed, their mana devouring one another in equal measure, and the shifter had a far greater well to draw from. i had to give the man credit, he was skilled, and knew how to fight a shifter.

As the monk's movements slowed I was able to watch him through a dozen pairs of eyes as he spun and thrust his weapon with consummate grace and blinding speed, attempting to pierce Saoirse's real body within her feline avatar. I couldn't say whether he succeeded or not, but she didn't slow, nor did her form bleed. Instead each strike diminished his presence, causing his golden aura to gutter like a lamp running low on oil. And during this time, Saoirse wasn't idle.

The leopard shifter quickly wet her fangs and claws with the monk's blood. She didn't hold out for telling blows, but took every opportunity to lay even a scratch on him. The reason for this was quickly apparent, as even the least of his cuts poured forth a steady stream of crimson, her power pulling forth his vital fluid in excessive measure. Clearly seeing his disadvantage in any extended battle, the Pure leader began cauterizing the wounds, and fought to surge past his opponent into the hall.

It was to no avail. Saoirse had delayed him more than long enough for the company to catch up. Though they couldn't interfere at first, as the monk slowed they were able to make their presence known. Myta swiped her glaive across the back of his ankle when his foot slid back just a little too far, then Hati's improvised hammer hit his shoulder with a wet crunch. Finally the shifter ripped out his throat with her claws, tossing aside the excised bit of flesh like garbage, as the man burbled wetly in an aborted scream.

The intensity of the battle, and the strength of my court, allowed me to usher all the spirits that rose into my domain. We lost three members of our company, but I was able to ensure they each had enough mana to leave remnants behind. Perhaps that was selfish or unwise, spirits were distinct from the people they rose from after all, and that mana might have been put to better use by the living.

Still, it soothed my heart to have the spirits as a kind of living memorial. All of the company had placed themselves in my care, and though it was their choice, I still felt the weight of their deaths on my conscience.

"This could not have gone better," Siobhan consoled me as we cleared be battlefield. "We were outnumbered two to one, and faced the enemy in their own stronghold."

Myta and I both nodded, knowing the truth of her words, but unable to truly accept them. It was one thing to know that we would pay a cost in blood, but another to experience it. I had known death before, of course. Nearly my entire country had been put to the sword, and I'd lost patients, lost friends to old age. But in this case I'd brought these warriors to their deaths, not simply failed to save them. The distinction ate at me.

We gained a wealth of resources from our fallen enemies in the form of infused weapons and armor. But the true reward was I freeing more thsny thirty captives, most of whom were shifters from various Metic clans. There were even a handful of druids among the prisoners as well. They had all been starved and tortured, some for as little as a few days, others for months. Each of them, without exception, had been branded with a divine tune of hatred.

"I think their choice of hideout worked against them in at least one regard." I noted to Oistin and Riona. "These ruins block the passage of mana, and even interfere with the Radiant Sea. Just as it becomes difficult to use the bond across the threshold, I think the monolith blunted the effect of these runes."

"Perhaps," Riona replied, "I can see how that could be, but they need to get out of this place, the sooner the better. And those scars won't just disappear."

"I can heal them." I chuckled a little at the irony. "The conflicts with the Pure have shown me how to reliably heal such scars, but it will take time, during which I think they should remain." I looked at the Clan Math druid. "Is that acceptable? You said we were free to investigate, but this would mean weeks of remaining in Math lands, in an ancient ruin no less."

"I'll see to it." Oistin's tone told me that he expected opposition, but that he would brook no dissent. "Nine of them are of Clan Math, and all are of the clans. You will have the time you need."

"Thank you," I inclined my head to the large man. "I will spend the next few days healing my own spirit, then I will remove their runes. Will you observe? It would be helpful to me if I had witnesses, and you might find some way to replicate my technique."

"I can watch, but Niamh Fia is the one of your visitors who might get some use from that." Riona sounded cautious as she spoke.

"I haven't spoken with her much, she's a healer isn't she?"

"Aye. Many in Clan Fia work closely with sorcerers outside of Metic. Niamh said she was coming along to keep an eye on you."

Fiona's tone was carefully neutral, but Oistin laughed at that.

"Is she an issue?" I raised my brow, not sure what the druid was dancing around.

"Fia druids are said by some to almost be sorcerers themselves." Riona shook her head. "Niamh is a skilled healer, but many in the clans see her as an outsider herself. If she vouches for you though, the other druids will listen."

"I'll ask her then, but I'd still prefer if you were there." Both of them nodded in acceptance, and I let out a sigh.

"How can I show myself to be trustworthy?" I asked aloud, but didn't really expect an answer. "I want to defend Metic from the Pure, to help preserve and heal the land. But I don't know how to prove it."

"Become a druid."I laughed at Oistin's words, but neither he nor Riona did. She, in fact, had a considering look on her face, and was nodding slowly.

"I don't think your fellows would appreciate you giving me that title." I said cautiously. Now the blacksmith did laugh, and Riona smiled thinly.

"Druid isn't a title, not really," she explained. "It's a description. Those with certain skills are called druids, whether they were trained by us or not. Even if they aren't part of the clans.

"The real problem," the stern woman continued, "is that those skills are very difficult dor a sorcerer to learn."

"Sorcerers speak, druids listen." The blacksmith's contribution, while cryptic, gave me some understanding of the problem.

"If the skills are so different, is it even possible to be both?"

"Aye," the runemaster still looked uncertain, but she nodded anyway. "The clans have legends of those who were both shifters and druids, and the Tribeta woodweavers walk both paths."

"So myths, and inhuman immortals have done it." My words were skeptical, but I couldn't deny the thrill of challenge that rose in me at the idea. Oisten shrugged, but he gave me a sly grin when he caught my expression of intrigue.

"Putting that aside, the captives are my priority." I shook off my daydreams. "First I need to heal my spirit, then see what I can do for them."

"As it should be. The clan elders have already agreed that there is no debt for any who become your vas."

Sati, who had thus far been listening silently, made a warning noise in her throat. Even I could read between those lines, however.

"How many of the clan heads will want to kill me for it though?" I shook my head wryly. "I don't even know how many of their bonds might transfer, I don't understand them well enough."

"Any druid understands that you can't force the bonds, but even some of our number will suspect you of creating this situation." Riona said. "And most clan heads become shifters, not druids. The elders will speak for you, but more than that I cannot say."

"Not like it will change my actions, but thank you for bringing it up." I noticed that neither druid commented on how many of the bonds were likely to shift, or what exactly might affect that number. I wasn't sure if they didn't know, or weren't able to say.

I took some time visiting with the prisoners, inviting all of my Metic companions to come with me. From Siobhan's entourage only Riona joined our grim procession, but the delegates from the other clans all came. I took the opportunity to size up Niamh, who offered back a look of frank appraisal.

The blond healer was unphased by the scenes of misery we proceeded to examine, but her eyes were kind. I approved of her immediately, and I was glad that she was the one who would be most closely monitoring my work. Not that I'd be performing much sorcery yet.

"I have a fair amount of supplements to aid in the recovery of invalids." I noted. "Things that are easy on the body, but rich in nutrients. They should tide your people over until my spirit is restored, and I can more proactively heal them."

Room by room we went, freeing the captives from their bonds, and treating their infected, seeping wounds. All of them were awakened, and so the Pure had felt little need to maintain their health. Not only were they resilient, but Entreyu's servants had seen them as disposable fodder, rather than people, or even valuable resources. More than once Myta or the druids needed to intervene to either calm or restrain my new patients.

But I made sure that every prisoner was released from their bindings, if not their cells, before I returned to healing my spirit. I needed to plant the seed, even in the ones whose minds were farthest gone, that they could soon escape this nightmare.

Chapter 59

It took me five days to restore my spirit enough to risk treating the Metic prisoners. Two days for Myta, Sati, and I to recover enough to perform the work. Then three more sessions to reforge all of my core nodes. The process didn't become any more pleasant, but I couldn't stand the idea of letting them suffer any longer than I had to.

I also needed to forge a new lancet. My signature tool was invaluable to purging corrupt mana from a patient's spirit while inflicting the least amount of harm in the process. My first lancet I'd attached to my heart node with a flexible meridian I forged for that specific purpose. My new understanding of bonds and the Radiant Sea meant that I no longer needed that link. It also meant that I could have purged the corrupt mana without causing any damage at all, but the process would have been far slower, and potentially more dangerous to everyone involved.

I began my work with those who were least afflicted. My first patient was a young boy, named Brian. He was jist over a decade old, younger even than Denu, and his spirit was indomitable. To have awakened and become a shifter so young was incredibly impressive, but when I had first opened his cell he had made a joke about my height. About how he was glad the Pure decided to send in their youth for him to school.

Even with three cracked ribs, a broken arm, and a suppurating burn on his belly, Brian had the spirit to ask me if I'd brought my favorite toy for us to share. When I'd explained our plans to heal and release them, he was one of the only prisoners to show more hope than fear.

By starting with the easiest cases first, I hoped to test my newly strengthened spirit, while practicing my technique in healing the damage these people had suffered. Brian was the first, and he screamed as I lanced his spirit, his coppery-red hair drenched in sweat as I drove corrupted mana from his meridians.

As I had learned with Myta, and perfected with Jito and Kari, I drew him into his inner world, helping him to visualize his body without the scarred brand on his belly. I could feel the rune resist, hatred striving to cling to his flesh, but with my will to support him, Brian drove it out. The small measure of mana I left in his system would let him heal the wound away completely, without scarring, though I would need to check his mana to make sure that the corruption didn't return before the rune was disrupted.

After the process was over, I left the youth lying on a makeshift mattress. I washed him with cool water, then covered him with a rough, thin blanket that we'd looted from the Pure's supplies.

"That looked... punishing, master." Myta squeezed my shoulder and helped me to my feet, leading me toward another cell.

"More from my own stress, than because the work was taxing." I replied. "Which is good. I expect some of the others to be far, far worse."

They were.

Brian had been here a few months, and his spirit was unbroken. Some of the prisoners had been here for much longer, or had far darker hearts. Some people were predisposed to hatred and distrust. The first day I managed to treat the seven easiest, and least corrupted of them. After that, my progress slowed considerably. Each day I revisited those I had successfully treated, cleansing the corrupt mana as it built up from the healing rune, then I would work on new patients. By the end of the first week I was reduced to treating only a single new patient each day, perhaps two if I were extremely lucky.

It was an ordeal, but one that honed my skills and will. By the time the last of the prisoners had been healed, I was an expert in not just purging, but transforming the aspect of hatred. Tharsis thrived in my domain, the spirit working with me to turn the poisoned energy into something useful. And as I cleansed the victims of the Pure, four out of five transferred their bonds to me. The druids, rather than transferring existing links, developed new bonds to me. This solidified my suspicion that shifters were manifesting a limited domain when they transformed, every one of them was bonded to their clan elder.

I was concerned that those shifters who joined my court would lose their hard-earned abilities, but my worries were quickly dispelled. Brian demonstrated his new form to me when he overheard me speaking to Ket and Myta on the subject. He had certainly had the form of a vaguely humanoid crow, about seven feet tall. I suspected the gross physical details hadn't changed that much, but his plumage appeared to be formed of liquid silver, graced with shifting shadows that hinted at innumerable dark colors and shifting characters.

Seeing him like that brought me a sense of... rightness I suppose. A comfortable familiarity and sense of pride. As though I had forged him a suite of armor to wear with my own hands.

"I doubt it will serve well for stealth," I noted dryly. "I take it your full name is Brian Finnag then?"

"Not anymore," was his reply, and he just shrugged when I tried to press him on the matter.

True to Oistin's words, Clan Math didn't press us to leave until the last of the prisoners was healed. But the very next morning they were knocking at the door. I tried not to take it too personally. The druids hated having anyone even enter the ruins of the ancients, much less take up residence there. I did press them about exploring the tunnels, and locating every entrance. That was undoubtedly how the Pure had entered the monolith in the first place, and even those who distrusted me most seemed to understand the extent of their vulnerability.

A potentially massive underground warren, with concealed entrances? One that allowed passage farther and faster than overland travel? The implications made even my most stubborn detractor blanch. I was furious that they hadn't explored these tunnels fifty years ago, but I had been weaker-willed and less coherent back then. I could only imagine they had dismissed my words as the ravings of an unreliable, foreign lunatic.

Math, the actual spirit elder, assured me that the tunnels would be explored. I knew that the great bear had a strong affinity for caves and the earth, and trusted them to handle the matter for now. Many of the self-important members of the clan seemed to find Math's assurances to be personally offensive, which honestly increased my confidence. Those same people had tried to forcibly remove my new vas, going so far as to attempt to kidnap those Metic who were now bound to me.

That matter was settled out of my sight, though I later found out that even those clan members who had not shifted their bonds had joined in the retaliation. None of them were inclined to tolerate another stint of imprisonment, and few had retained any real equilibrium, or sense of restraint. I was just grateful that there were no deaths over the issue, and wrote off the injuries I saw as the we'll-deserved rewards of stupidity.

"I have a baile for you, a... homestead." I glanced at Siobhan as we traveled away from the monolith with a raised brow, not really sure what she was talking about, or where the the comment had come from.

"Peta spoke to me," she answered my look. "According to her, you've big plans here, and a grudge against the Pure. And now you've doubled the mouths you have to feed."

"All true. And this prompted you to offer us land and homes?"

"Aye. I can read the darkening sky." At my confused look the UnKet sighed.

"You've got the fighting power of a small clan now, and the Metic who've joined you are already calling Myta UnEsur. They say it in a whisper, or as a joke, but such jokes are only jokes until they can't be denied."

"So you see us as a new clan?" I shook my head. "I wanted to find a place for myself here. I love the air of this land, but warriors don't make a clan by themselves."

Siobhan gave me an odd look. "Are you keen to keep your people from their families then? Force them to choose between following you, and seeing their husbands, their children?"

That hit me hard. I hadn't honestly considered who these Metic might have at home. Even the people I'd brought from Ramana might have family waiting, despite how easily they had uprooted themselves to follow me.

Seeing my chagrin, Siobhan pressed on. "Metic isn't short on land or resources, and neither is Clan Ket. We guard the border with Ootrin, and with war coming, I need help. My elder trusts you, and after what I've seen, so do I, so I can well afford one abandoned baile. You'll be close to the scar, and easy enough for travelers and traders to reach. And Saoirse will stay with you to be my voice there. Even she respects you, and that is hard earned."