NOVEL NEXT Chapter Thirty-Nine - Erlking
Months later in Real Life...
Hoofbeats?
And not just one or two. They didn’t sound metallic, so they weren’t shoed, but they were extremely uninterested in hiding their presence.
Unshod meant they weren’t something being ridden, and weren’t conventional military. They could be a herd, but no wild herd of anything was going to advance into this place past the skeleton sitting in the waters there burning vivic to cleanse the corruption trying to ooze out into the world beyond.
Intelligent hooved creatures not smart enough to wear horseshoes. Mmm. That sounded like fey of one kind or another. Why would they be coming here?
I heaved the boulder on my shoulder up onto the mound there, and glanced down the valley towards the entryway, where a dark blur of bodies in motion was streaming in.
Winter had come, the harsh breath of mountain cold settling across the valley with the first fanciful crystals of frost here and there. I enjoyed the briskness of it, but it did almost nothing to the valley, with the ink-black waters of the swamp remaining unfrozen, and even the layer of stained rocks around it undisturbed, as if the chill wasn’t cold enough to do anything… par for the course when dealing with negative energies. There was only a mild layer of dark wisps of steam rising off it all when the sun shone down on it, that was all.
Still smelled like wet rot and an open grave, too.
I wandered down into the inky black waters, my Vajra keeping them from touching me, and swam down to one of the mounds of stones stacked up in the deeper parts of the original river. Rocks weighing anywhere from five hundred to a thousand pounds were mounded up here, pushing up the bottom of the river and broadening it out to form the swamp.
There were a lot of them, but I was patient and had time.
I grabbed one about as tall as I was, threw it on my shoulder, and trudged back up the shallow incline. My nails, Vajra, and Waveskating Step meant I had absolute traction in the water, so I wasn’t scared of slipping or anything.
I hauled myself up along the incline, broke the water’s surface and sloughed the syrupy corruption off of me. I made it to shore, advanced another hundred feet to the mound I was building up there, and with a heave, tossed the boulder up over the top to the far side with a loud crunch.
One more down. I turned around and headed back down to the waters again.
“Young miss, a moment of your time?”
The voice was both amused and interested. I glanced over in its direction.
He was riding a black tiger that was six feet at the shoulder, black with white stripes, its canines a good foot long. He had that narrow, severe kind of handsomeness you find in guys with an eternal stick up their ass, a definite aura of command and power, and a pull on the local mana field that was ruffling the edges of my Null.
Black hair, black eyes glittering sharply, and two darkly glossy wings that looked more like a cape were sitting behind him. He was wearing carved wooden armor of extremely fancy design, had a long straight sword at his hip, also made of wood, and a bow and spear riding on the saddle of the over-sized Dire Kitten underneath him.
I was familiar with this kind of fellow. Pop that overly decorated crow-motif helm, and he’d have feathers instead of hair, all as glossy black as his wings.
An erlking. Well, wonder what the local fey overlord wanted here?
“There’s a lot of work to do. What do you want?” I snapped back, crossing my arms and facing him.
He just blinked at me, as did his tiger. There were shuffling sounds all around, as the centaurs and satyrs who’d come with him did something between coughing, inhaling, and laughing, with the latter trying to get a closer look at me, and seeming rather put out by my total Nothing To See Here chest.
However, he had just seen me toss a three-hundred-kilo rock five meters into the air, so he wasn’t going to take things just on looks. He did glance at my waist, and figured out where the strength came from, but the glowing Tats on my arms unsettled him. Philosopher’s Might at four bars was a thing, too.
“I would like to know what happened here recently.” He waved his hand imperiously, indicating the whole of the valley.
“Who are you, again?” I asked suspiciously, squinting at him. He blinked again, and leaned forwards.
“That belt may make you strong, child, but have a care.”
I leaned forward, too. “That kitten may make you look pompous, erlking, but go swimming in the swamp and in twelve hours you’ll be a batch of slime dripping off black bones.” All in utterly perfect Fey, of course.
He blinked as I began to slide down the slope, as if it were slick ice. His troops didn’t gather in behind me fast enough, and I hit the water, leaned back, and bloop, was out of sight.
Some of them went splashing after me like idiots, but I was already well out of reach and heading down for another rock.
A few minutes later I walked back up out of the water with another big stone on my shoulder. The hoof-boys got out of my way again as I walked forwards, up to the big stack of rocks, and tossed it on the top.
This time, they did close in between me and the water, with spears and bows ready. I walked straight towards them without the slightest sign of fear.
“Permit me to introduce myself,” the erlking spoke up sharply, and the hoof-boys drew back as the big tiger stepped forwards. “I am Noir Rabe, erlking of the realm of Iacaein, in whose shadow this Valley rests. I am come here to investigate what has become of the prior owners of this place, and return it to the proper authority of My Lady’s throne.”
“Oh, now you have manners.” I dusted off my gloved hands, uncaring where the satyrs were looking, as I was topless. Stones weighing almost ten times what I did didn’t care about cotton or leather, and I couldn’t ward them from continuous contact if they were on my shoulders.
Dauntless, wasn’t afraid of public nudity, either. I still had on a skirt, going with my Girdle, and Tremble was remaining silent and very observant in her back-sheath.
“I am Sama Rantha. Welcome to… whatever you want to call this sludge-hole of a valley, Erlking Noir Rabe.” I gave him a slight bow. “I am afraid the prior owners are either absent or dead at this time.
“If you are seeking their counsel or adversity, I am afraid it will be rather difficult. The Annis Tusk Annie is still absent and has not returned, and the greenhag, the shellycoat, the Unseelie Nymph, and the troll hag are all dead. The Shrine to Ruilvei has been destroyed, the thirteen loci of the Coven’s Wards have been sundered, and twenty-six Hag’s Eyes in place around the valley have been shattered.
“Vivic fonts have been put in place at head and foot of the Valley to contain the Corruption here. Steps are currently being taken to reduce the amount of filler placed into the waters and reduce the swamp back down to a straight-flowing stream, but the work is going slowly.” I flexed one arm meaningfully, and his dark eyes flickered over the mounds of boulders...
“The remaining above-water necrotic presences have been eliminated, as have any other maleficent Corruptive influences, save for the Henge upon its isle there, which remains intact for lack of proper tools to deal with it.
“Unfortunately, the swamp water retains its Corruptive influence, as you might surmise by the lack of waves, leaves, insects, or ice. Merely stepping on the black stones infects your feet with a rotting disease which will soon have you cutting off your own feet if you wish to live,“ I completely ignored the bleats of alarm that arose at these words, “-while actually entering the water is going to rot away the body parts that made contact with it within twelve hours.”
His black eyes were wide and sharp as he looked over the hoof-boys, who were all quite aghast. More of them starting shouting when they saw the faint black spots already starting to develop on their fur.
“Is there a cure to this infection… Sama Rantha?” he amended rather hastily.
I debated being a total douche, and just sniffed. “Go to the clear waters back there and remain in them until the vivic fires stop burning on you. And don’t walk on the damn black stones or go into the water.”
He paused a moment, then waved his arm sharply. Like a flowing tide of brown, the army of a hundred or so hoof-boys raced for the small area of clear water cleansed by the headwaters font I’d made from the rusalka’s corpse over there.
And I headed back down into the waters to go get another stone.
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When I came back up, the tiger was gone to join the others in washing off its feet. His erlking rider was crouched on a rock like a waiting crow, watching me walk up, past him, deliver my load, and head on back down.
“A further moment of your time, Sama Rantha?” he asked with precise formality.
I rolled my eyes. “Erlking Noir Rabe?” I replied, with the same tone and mindset.
“You are the get of Tusk Annie?” he asked me directly.
“I am an Annis Hagchild, and my Hagmother is Tusk Annie,” I corrected him evenly. I had no problem keeping his eyes, and I could tell he was surprised at how difficult it was to keep mine.
“And are you the one who disposed of the Hags, their minions, and their works?” he asked archly.
I saw no reason to deny it. If he chose to take offense, I was going to have crow for lunch, and get me a wonderful tiger blanket. “I am.”
He stared at me for a long moment, so I turned and headed back down to the water. I think he was off-put by just how little face I was giving him, and he wasn’t sure how to react.
“Perhaps we might be able to discuss more things at length?” he called after me.
I waved in a certain direction. “Consider yourself a guest. I live over that way. However, I have no food and nothing to drink but purified rainwater.”
His eyes flashed. Guest-right and host were powerful traditions among the Fey. They didn’t have laws, but their traditions were often harsher and crueler. We would be safe from one another if he took me up on the offer… and he had an inkling that being safe from me might actually be a thing.
“I shall await you there when you are done with your labors.”
I waved him off and dove back down into the swamp.
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I kept him waiting several hours, and he perched on a stone outcropping to watch me haul out the bigger stones, one by one. I ended the process by hurling a few tons of the smaller rocks out from the waters in a relentless five-minute rain of head-sized rocks crashing down on the shoreline, prompting centaurs and satyrs to keep a safe distance from the bouncing mini-boulders.
I then walked up out of the water, tracking down the rocks I’d hurled out, and sent them whistling upslope as easily as golf balls, bouncing off the walls to the cliff and falling down on top of the mound I was building there. I kicked a few of them, too, and any satyrs that had fancy ideas about propositioning me hastily decided otherwise when a couple of the rocks exploded into shards against the cliffs.
The day’s good labor done, I headed back for the Shrine, my impromptu forge, and the Erlking who glided down to await me there.