Ruthless: Path of Conquest

Cara Dahlhaus twisted her cold, hard lips into a vicious smile as she set eyes upon the frosty track.

The bitter winds that beat down on the frozen plains left her gray-blue skin unharmed, but the increasing chill did not go unnoticed. It was one of the signs that Cara was following.

And now she had another.

She bent down to more closely examine the bits of frost sticking out of the ground. Atop the snow-covered ground, sticking up like a ring of stalagmites, a circle of icicles in the shape of a hoof stood out.

Cara rose and cast her eyes forward four feet, eight feet, then ten feet. Sure enough, at ten feet, she saw another frosty hoofprint.

This thing was really running, she thought. Moving at high speed.

She imagined it was fleeing from her. The notion was not implausible. She and the Wendigos that followed her had chased this creature across a huge chunk of the landmass that was once Canada. They had only gotten close once, and she had gotten a good look at it then, before it dashed off, riding the winds like one of Santa’s pets.

A freakishly gigantic white deer, crowned with a forest of golden antlers.

Identify labeled it as the Great White Hart. Level 32, which was worrying.

But Malsumis had reassured her. Through his messenger, a rabid bison, the malevolent god explained that the Great White Hart had abandoned its greatest strengths, its herd and its territory, in order to run from her more quickly.

“Just kill this single creature, and you become a Ruler,” the bison wheezed with Malsumis’s strange, eerie voice. “Easy work. You have killed so many others with far more potent powers. Remember the Shadow Mage?”

It was at least true that the only power Cara had witnessed the creature display proficiently was the ability to run away.

Still, is this really the easiest Ruler for me to kill? Cara did not feel confident that Malsumis was motivated by her best interests. She looked out for herself at all times, but she had felt forced to place her trust in the god’s counsel more than once already. First, when he persuaded her to become a Wendigo. Second, when he explained that she would only be able to survive as a monster if she created others of her kind. Third, when he told her how Wendigos navigated internal conflicts.

Now this. She was stuck in the middle of the Great White Nowhere, following the advice of a possessed bison that had deteriorated over the course of the journey West until it could no longer walk. The dead body of the bison had been ripped to shreds by Cara’s fellow monsters at that point, and the last sound out of its mouth was Malsumis’s creepy wheezing laughter.

“Well, where to next, eh?”

Cara turned her head, though even before she did, she knew who the speaker was.

“We follow the tracks, Letitia,” she replied, imbuing her voice with a special layer of frost that was reserved for this specific woman. The only Wendigo who had dared to challenge her leadership since the return to Earth. Also the only one to ever contend with her and live.

Cara pointed down at the icicles she had just been examining as she spoke, as if Letitia was blind.

“Very good, then. More blood at the end of this trail?”

Cara frowned. She’s losing too much of her humanity. Like her brains are leaking out. Why did you want me to spare her, Malsumis? For what purpose? She would have served me far better as an example than as this.

But it seemed to amuse the god to test his Chosen One in new and inventive ways now that she was back on Earth. He had promised power, but never that it would be without cost.

One cost of the Wendigo transformation that Cara had observed was that the longer one remained in the monstrous form, the more it sapped the underlying human’s basic Intelligence. You could counteract that by Pillaging more bodies and absorbing Stat points, but it was a crapshoot where those Stat points landed.

Cara had been spending as much time in her human form as she could, whenever she was not moving at the Wendigos’ superhuman speed or fighting.

So of course Malsumis sent them to this horrid frozen place, where only the Wendigo shape kept them from dying of exposure.

“Don’t you remember, Letitia?” Cara asked. “You literally just ate.”

She gestured at the smoke several hundred miles behind them. It had still been morning when they hit Edmonton, and now it was almost night, but still, Letitia had enjoyed a banquet there. It ought to have sated even her Endless Hunger for a little longer.

Letitia’s face took on a blank expression. Then she looked back at the column of smoke from the still-burning city, and her lips curled into a twisted smile. “Oh, yes. That was fun. Those people were delicious. Their blood tasted as sweet as maple syrup! When do we hit the next settlement?”

Cara resisted the urge to yell at her and instead returned her expression to the icy smile she had donned when she first saw the Great White Hart’s tracks. Our stay in Edmonton was a bit of a waste of time, but it did increase our numbers. No matter what I think of the Hart’s tendency to run from us, having cannon fodder to throw at him can only help me. Underestimating a Ruler could be fatal. That last thought had been Malsumis’s warning, even as he instructed that she must pursue and defeat a Ruler to reach her full potential and secure her leadership position among the Wendigos.

“We continue forward, in search of larger prey,” she replied, pointing in the direction the tracks led. “That way.”

Then she sent a telepathic message to the whole group.

All, we have the tracks of our prey. You know how fast the beast is, so follow close behind me. We won't let it escape again.

Cara resumed tracking the monster. She only had the very occasional hoofprint to follow, so she was mainly trying to catch its scent on the wind and looking for small bits of fur that it left behind on trees as it raced by.

Looking for scraps of white fur in a winter wonderland, she thought. It gives searching for a needle in a haystack a good name!

But somehow, each time she was almost ready to give up, she would find some renewed sign of the creature’s continued life. Some visual indicator that she was on the right track. A tree scraped by the Hart’s antler. A scrap of white fur caught under a small stone but moving slightly with the intense winds. A series of branches that had clearly been trampled under the foot of the leaping, gliding creature.

And the latest: a tiny chunk of gleaming golden antler that must have broken off on contact with a large rock formation that seemed to loom up out of nowhere in the midst of the snow.

Cara picked up the chunk of golden antler and found it surprisingly heavy.

“Why is the weather like this?” A voice spoke from her side.

“We’re chasing a monster that rides on the wind, Matt,” Cara replied. “Why should we be surprised it’s a bit windy? We’ve been moving North. And it’s fucking Canada.”

“It wasn’t this bad on the way here,” he replied. “Was it? It’s still late Summer.”

Cara shrugged. “I’ve never been to Alberta before. I don’t know what it’s supposed to be like.”

“Would you come back?” Matt asked.

She flashed him a hideous but genuinely amused smile. “I’d love to. Anytime. The food's great.”

They shared an evil laugh. Then Cara directed her attention to their environment.

Although it was Matt who called her attention to it, Cara had also noticed the weather. Malsumis had informed her that once she became a Ruler, she would be able to manipulate the environment around her within a certain territory. So she assumed that the Great White Hart was exercising that power, although she declined to tell Matt this information. More information for the other Wendigos would only lead to one of them wanting to take the killing blow against the Hart.

If one of the other Wendigos killed the Hart, Cara would certainly lose her position of leadership. She would not let that happen. I will never be powerless again. It was her only principle.

So she marched forward through the snow and banished all doubts to the back of her mind.

Several hours later, the terrain had become rockier. The Wendigos were nearing a mountain. The signs of the Hart’s presence were fewer and fewer, and the weather had continued to grow worse. Snow was falling in fast-flowing waves, faster than the Wendigos could produce themselves. But they still had a coherent trail to follow, with all the Hart’s clues moving in one direction.

The Wendigos followed the trail for another hour, and it ended with a scrap of fur lodged between two stones at the base of the mountain.

We’ll need to scale that, Cara thought. Then she sent an order to that effect.

The Wendigos were nearly tireless. Even so, with the snow beating down more, the winds howling more harshly, and the air growing thinner with each step they took, their pace of ascent gradually slowed to a crawl. An inexorable forward movement continued, but at an incredibly drawn out speed. Cara could not criticize them. She knew that any human climber would have given up on this place already.

My creatures are superior to any human, she thought with pride. That’s why this world will fall to us.

The climb continued for monotonous hours as the ground receded into the distant background, but no Wendigos gave up or even questioned the directive to advance.

Finally, as Cara stepped over a large jutting rock, she saw it. A white furred four legged figure.

Everyone be as quiet as you can! she sent to the whole group instantly. We’re very close.

Then she heard the sounds of movement from somewhere ahead of the Hart. Multiple life forms crunching the snow with their footsteps.

There was a moment of confusion for Cara. I thought he left behind all his kind. Are there more hidden up here? Did he arrange to meet them?

Then she saw a heavy rock flying through the air, thrown from somewhere further up the mountain. It was clearly aimed at the Great White Hart, but the creature nimbly sidestepped it. The rock tumbled through the air, now moving straight toward Cara. She smacked it away with the side of her arm, but the strength of the throw surprised her. It was enough to leave her skin a bit numb—something the cold weather alone could never do to a Wendigo.

Cara looked up and saw at least a dozen humanoid figures covered in white fur. They were approaching slowly but ominously. Most of them appeared to be staring at the Hart, but a few were looking at her. They didn’t have a single trace of fear in their body language.

Identify. She aimed at the closest monster.

Ancient Mountain Sasquatch, Lv. 20.

Shit. He’s a big one. But they were all around the same size. The Sasquatches were even larger than the average Wendigo. Probably stronger too.

She looked to the Hart, and it turned and gazed right back at her. Its face was non-expressive, but she could swear there was a smug look in its eyes. Maybe it was the way the creature tilted its head.

As if to say, Oh, were you expecting it would just be me up here?

Then the creature leapt into the air and began almost gliding away from the mountain using its strange ability to run on the wind.

Cara saw the Sasquatches throw heavy rocks and icicle spears at the Hart. The creatures seemed to form the spears out of thin air, which suggested they might be a legitimate threat. But the Hart was far more agile than the projectiles, and it drew further away by the second.

The environment wasn’t changing with the beast’s departure, either, Cara realized.

Was that because it had changed the weather here and had no wish to change it back? Or was there just another Ruler somewhere on this mountain? A Ruler of these creatures? She began to have a very bad feeling about this.

She started to climb back down from her position and sent telepathic messages to the rest of the Wendigos to do the same. Flee. The creature has led us into a trap!

There were objections.

We want meat.

Let us fight these monsters.

We came here for blood.

Cara didn’t bother arguing. The more sensible of her allies had already begun climbing down alongside her, though the movement was as slow as the climb up had been.

When the Hart had flown completely out of the monsters’ range, the situation changed. All attention turned to the Wendigos.

Cara felt the change in the atmosphere when the attention of the monsters shifted. The air around the Wendigos somehow drew even colder, the wind pounding even harsher, though that could not harm them. Much more important were the projectiles.

The Wendigos that had been the most eager to fight were the first to be struck. Most of the blows, Cara saw when she bothered to look, were nonlethal. Wendigos getting knocked on their asses.

A few of them were potentially deadlier. One ice spear drew very near to hitting a Wendigo in the heart, though ice alone would probably not destroy a Wendigo’s heart. And a couple of Wendigos struck in the head with heavy rocks fell to the ground and then didn’t move again.

Cara was well aware that her monsters were still mortal. They could be killed, though she did not think a blow to the head would be enough to do it. But the Wendigos couldn’t afford to remain immobile while the Sasquatches advanced either. The monsters were moving briskly down the mountain, pursuing their fleeing enemy with the advantages of the high ground and their superior knowledge of the terrain. Their steps were sure-footed like mountain goats’.

Whenever a Wendigo tried to throw rocks back at the attackers, the Sasquatch would dodge or catch the stone.

We’re going against gravity, Cara thought. We would have to be significantly stronger than them to be effective in a battle. And most of her Wendigos were newly minted from the destruction of Edmonton. Too weak to be effective against enemies other than helpless humans.

She tried her best to ignore the thrown objects as best she could and get distance, but the Sasquatches only grew more aggressive and confident in their defense of their territory. As she saw more and more of the tall figures, she began to think the Wendigos might be outnumbered as well as outclassed in physical power and knowledge of the environment. But it was hard to be sure. The Sasquatches could appear and disappear behind a snow drift in an instant.

A new volley of heavy rocks and ice spears began to thin the number of Wendigos that were still retreating.

The first ice spear that struck Cara took her in the side.

Run, she sent to the other Wendigos. Do not try to fight. Just ru—

As Cara tried to sidestep another ice spear, a heavy blow struck her in the head. Black fog began clawing at the edges of her vision.

Where did that come from? she wondered.

The last sight that her brain registered before the darkness took her was the shape of the Great White Hart floating in midair beside her. But that could have been a hallucination. One sometimes sees strange things after a head injury.

Then Cara was falling down the side of the mountain.