31. [Red Tide] Unfriendly Competition (Patreon)

--DRAMATIS PERSONAE—

Red Tide, Enchantress of the 4th Renown, The Reef, joining the hunt

Throne Gazer, Salt Wall, and Cuda Bite, the champions of the Reef, and Turtle Jaw, their Quill

 Theo Adamantios, Axe Master of the 6th Renown, Penchenne, under the guidance of his sponsor

Sylvie Aracia, a young woman of no renown but considerable connections, Penchenne

***

9 Harvesend, 61 AW

The outskirts of Besaden

231 days until the next Granting

At first light, Turtle Jaw kicked away the ashes from last night’s fire and used the flat patch of dirt to draw a rectangle in Ink. “Show me where to find the power,” he incanted in the language of the gods. The Ink spread through the rectangle, shaping itself into a map of the world. The four champions of the Reef huddled over his shoulders as Turtle Jaw circled the area around Besaden, the map reforming to show more detail of the surrounding area.

 There it was. Just like the balding axe master had said. A pulsing dot of Ink about ten miles north of their position.

“You been able to do this trick the whole time?” Cuda Bite asked.

“Yes,” Turtle Jaw replied. Red Tide had seen him call upon the map before, but Cuda Bite wasn’t paying attention that day on the beach.

“You didn’t think to check this sooner?” Throne Gazer asked with his customary stiffness.

“I looked at it the day we reached this forest,” Turtle Jaw said.

“And you didn’t think we might be interested in the opportunity to earn more Ink?” Red Tide could hear the hunger in Throne Gazer’s voice—that lust for power. She was surprised he hadn’t gone sprinting into the woods already.

Turtle Jaw raised his head and Red Tide saw some of that warden hardness in the clench of his square jaw. “I thought,” he said evenly, “that the beastlords would want the Ink that appeared in their own territory for themselves. I assumed we would not want to make a bad impression, taking what could rightfully be considered theirs.”

Red Tide nodded in agreement. As masters of the sea, the oca’em were used to interlopers taking what didn’t belong to them. And yet, she remembered the warm feeling of new Ink spreading across her chest. She couldn’t fault Throne Gazer for wanting more.

Aside from the pulsing blob of Ink, there wasn’t much detail on the crude map. Trees—and more trees. No telling what awaited them deeper into Besaden.

“Why haven’t they claimed it?” Red Tide asked.

“Perhaps the beastlords were not up for the challenge,” Throne Gazer said.

“Or maybe it’s like the land-walker said and there’s enough for everybody,” Cuda Bite replied. He draped an arm around Salt Wall’s shoulders until the larger woman shrugged him off with a snort. “Wouldn’t that be nice? Everyone gets some?”

“You still think we shouldn’t bother?” Red Tide asked Turtle Jaw.

“No,” he said. “Not if it’s us or them.”

“He’s watching us,” Salt Wall said, a rumble in her chest.

They turned as one to look at the Penchennese axe master who stood a respectable distance, smiling awkwardly. He and his sour-faced companion had spent a polite amount of time around the fire last night—three passes of his bottle around the circle—then made their own camp amidst the neighboring trees. Red Tide kept an eye on them throughout the night. Though she tried to be subtle about it, Red Tide saw Sylvie Aracia sprinkle caltrops in the space between their camps. Theo snored nearly as loud as Salt Wall, but she didn’t think Sylvia slept much at all. Now, the young woman crouched behind Theo, rummaging around in their packs.

“Good morning,” Theo shouted over. He nodded toward the map on the ground—there was no way he could see it, but Throne Gazer kicked the Ink away all the same. “Lucky you have your Quill with you. We have to rely on other methods.”

Theo held what looked to be a blank piece of parchment.

In the early morning light, the oca’em found they didn’t have the same capacity for chatter as the night before, when it had been fun to toy with the two land-walkers. As one, they ignored him.

“Let us not linger,” Throne Gazer said.

The Reef’s champions began to break down their camp. Salt Wall and Turtle Jaw wrapped what was left of the butchered deer in clean green leaves, while the others packed up the supplies that had over the course of their journey migrated around the wagon.

Theo stood there dumbly, glancing at the oca’em occasionally, while holding his parchment. With Sylvie, however, the Reef’s movement seemed to incite a new rush in her search.

“I can’t find my timepiece, Theo!” Sylvia snapped.

“Have you checked your pockets?” he replied.

“Have you checked your pockets,” she repeated, in a slurring voice.

Cuda Bite cleared his throat and Red Tide glanced up in response. He brushed a braid out of his face and Red Tide saw what he wanted to show her—he palmed a circle of metal on a delicate chain, one of those creations of the Gadgeteers that told the time of day. He’d put his [Shadow Step] to good use during the night. 

“They shared drink with us,” Throne Gazer said. He had seen the timepiece, too, and this was meant as a quiet rebuke.

Cuda Bite shrugged. “That little hag has too much already.”

“You get anything for me?” Red Tide asked.

Cuda Bite pumped his eyebrows. While the oca’em kept their voices down, Sylvie made no such effort.

“I think they stole it,” she snapped.

Theo sighed. “Let me help you look for it.”

“No! It must be almost time,” she replied. “Keep your eyes on the paper.”

Throne Gazer stood up in the back of the wagon, crossing his arms. “Is this the respect champions are afforded in Penchenne?”

Theo’s eyes flicked toward the wagon, but before he could muster a response there came a sound like a light dribbling of rain.

“Ah,” Theo said, frowning at the side of their wagon. “I looked away, Sylvie.”

“Gods damn it, Theo,” she muttered.

The three oca’em hopped down from the back of the wagon to find a message in Ink splashed across its wooden side. Still there, the message read, and then a drawing of the very same map that Turtle Jaw had conjured in the dirt.

“A message from our Quill,” Theo explained. “I apologize for sullying your conveyance with knowledge you likely already know.”

“Don’t give a shit about the conveyance,” Red Tide responded.

She watched—a bit mystified—as Theo tucked his blank piece of paper into his belt and turned to help Sylvie in her search for the missing timepiece.

Turtle Jaw patted her shoulder. “Ready to move on?”

“How do our champions die every year if this is who we’re up against?” she asked the warden.

“Our enemies aren’t all this way,” he replied.

“I dared to fucking hope.”

“Haven’t had much cause to think about Penchenne in my years as Quill,” Turtle Jaw continued. “They claim their city is the birthplace of diplomacy.”

Red Tide closed one of her eyes and cocked her head. “Hell is that supposed to mean?”

“They like to talk,” Turtle Jaw said. “And they like to deal.”

With Throne Gazer leading the way, the oca’em shouldered their packs and headed north through the mammoth trees of Besaden. Only as she stubbed her toe on a root for the first of what would be many times did Red Tide miss their curmudgeonly horses and wagon. The freed nags, perhaps intimidated by the fine beasts from Penchenne, had disappeared during the night. A freedom Red Tide could only dream of.

They had barely covered the first mile when the Penchennese caught up to them. Theo and Sylvie had elected to ride, and the high-stepping steeds were already whinnying in protest and tugging at the reins. 

“Come on, Theo, we can outpace them,” Sylvie said, her horse listing close enough to Salt Wall that the berserker reached for her hook.

“Might as well just break your horse’s legs now, we keep on this way,” Theo said. He dismounted and led his horse, trying to pick a path that weaved straight between the redwoods. “Listen, my friends of the Reef, this doesn’t have to be a race. We might consider pooling our resources. Face whatever is ahead together.”

“Seems a better deal for you than us,” Throne Gazer said without turning or slowing down.

“There are four of you, yes,” Theo said. “But I’d wager I have more Ink than any two of you put together.”

“You’d lose that wager,” Red Tide said.

“It’d be a narrow thing, though, wouldn’t it?” the axe master replied. “It’s like I said last night, friends, I’m open to barter.”

“Why are you wasting our time with this, Theo?” Sylvie sat stiff in her saddle, scanning the oca’em with eyes sunk into dark pits. Overtired and frustrated, yes, but Red Tide thought there was something more to this bitter little bitch—a flare of anger that the girl didn’t know how to extinguish. Red Tide considered playing her harp; that would cool her down a bit, at least.  

Cuda Bite strolled close to Sylvie’s horse, no doubt hoping he might dip a hand into one of her saddlebags. “Maybe your man is smart,” he said to her. “Maybe he thinks he’ll use us to soften up whatever furry beast waits in all these cursed trees.”

“He doesn’t need you to soften anything up,” Sylvie declared. “Wasteful, to even consider sharing Ink with your kind. What is the point? All four of you will be dead in a year. It’s discourteous not to let the Ink flow to someone who might actually live long enough to use it.”

Throne Gazer stopped walking. “Shut your mouth,” he said. “You forget how far you are from your high house. Your words would embarrass your sociality proctor.”

Red Tide kept an eye on Theo. The man never reached for his axes—he hadn’t touched his weapons once since they met, she realized. That was unusual with warriors, especially men, who loved to finger their hilts, as if to remind everyone what they might do. Even now, Theo simply scratched the tufts of hair on the back of his head and did nothing to intervene on his sponsor’s behalf.

Sylvie opened her mouth to respond, but then took a long look at Throne Gazer’s steely posture and thought better of it. Pompous nobles had a way of recognizing their own. With a sigh, she dismounted and continued the journey in silence, walking next to Throne Gazer.

They picked their way through twisting breaks in the trees, climbing and descending hillocks made entirely of bulging roots. As they went, Red Tide sensed Theo making an effort to match her pace. He wanted to speak with her. Perhaps her [Charm+] at work, or perhaps something else. Curious, she slowed to open up some space between them and the others.

“One year in the Granting for clemency isn’t the worst arrangement I’ve ever heard,” Theo began. “It’s four years for me.”

Red Tide pursed her lips. The clemency agreement was unlikely to be on the table now—not after how they’d dealt with Most Loyal Spear. If she made it to the Granting and survived, her reward would be something very different from freedom. Power, perhaps, though she wasn’t sure she’d want that.

“You don’t look like a criminal,” Red Tide said.

“Oh, no, I’m not. In Penchenne, we do four years in service to the high houses as champions, then take the wash. Set for life, after that. Me and my whole family.”

Red Tide jerked her chin toward Sylvie. “Why don’t these high houses fight for themselves?”

“Too much risk,” Theo replied. “Instead, they sponsor our training.”

“Supervise, you mean. Burrow up your ass.”

Theo chortled. “You haven’t the faintest idea.”

He rolled up his sleeve. A gold cuff wrapped around his thick forearm. The scale symbol of Penchenne had been shaped into the metal, the weighing pans replaced by two cloudy gems that pulsed with Theo’s steady heartbeat.

“Didn’t take you for the jewelry type,” Red Tide said.

“Sylvie’s got one just like it,” Theo said. “An enchantment on them that connects us. She’ll be with me at the Granting, seeing through my eyes, giving me advice.”

Red Tide shuddered at the thought. “Why she got to scream at you so much, if she can get right into your mind?”

“She doesn’t like to wear it,” Theo said. “I’m not the first champion she’s sponsored. Her last, well, he died on the island…”

Red Tide swung her harp around and plucked a saccharine note. “Why you telling me all this, land walker?”

“A free offering of information, since you oca’em seem as over your heads on land as I’d be in the sea,” Theo replied. “She’s had a difficult time of it. Doesn’t excuse her behavior, but I’d be appreciative if your group didn’t pile on, make things worse. I figure the little guy’s the thief of the bunch, right?”

Up ahead, Cuda Bite needlessly slashed a low-hanging leaf in half with his dagger. Red Tide snorted.

“If that timepiece of hers could find its way back, I’d consider it a favor worth repaying,” Theo concluded.

“You fumbling with my empathy does nothing but dry me up,” Red Tide said. “Barter, though? That might interest me, axe man.”

Theo flashed her a guileless smile. “Noted.”

They had come to the north continent to make allies, hadn’t they? Red Tide wasn’t sure if this Penchennese axe master could help them survive the island—or would even honor any deal brokered here in Besaden—but it couldn’t hurt to see what favors they might squeeze out of him. Anyway, what use did Cuda Bite have for a timepiece? He never had anywhere to be.

 The group knew they’d nearly covered the ten miles when the horses began to spook. It started as skittish head-tossing and progressed quickly to the two steeds planting their back legs and digging in. Sylvie’s jerked at his ropes hard enough that the woman nearly had her shoulder dislocated. In the end, Theo had to backtrack a bit and find a quiet place to tie them up.

Red Tide could smell it in the air. A heavy musk, pungent, thick enough almost to taste. She was reminded of the steely tang of blood in sea water—the lingering vibrations when a shark had just made a successful kill. Predation lurked on the warm breeze.  

“I suggest we move forward with just our weapons,” Throne Gazer said. “Keep it light.”

“Let the axe master lead the way,” Cuda Bite said. “They want the Ink bad enough, don’t they?”

In the end, the Reef’s champions left their supplies with the Penchennese horses. But neither Throne Gazer nor Salt Wall could stomach letting Theo lead the way, so they advanced through the woods with those three in a rank, the others happy to trail behind.

Soon, they reached a space where the trees appeared to have grown together. The trunks bent unnaturally against each other, like pickets or crooked teeth. There was space enough between the trees for a human-sized body to slip through, but no bigger gaps revealed themselves. Circling around, the wooded wall extended deeper into the forest, sectioning off an area of about a square mile.

“This is not natural,” Sylvie said.

“No shit,” Red Tide replied.

There were runes shaped from glowing moss on the tree trunks. Cuda Bite tiptoed up to one and recoiled.

“They stink,” he reported.

“That smell in the air, it’s coming from runes,” Turtle Jaw said. “I thought it might be coming off whatever we’re supposed to be hunting…”

“The beastlords have erected this to contain something,” Theo said. “The runes are a warning to the creatures of this forest to stay away.”

“Yeah?” Red Tide exchanged a look with Throne Gazer. The trident master practically vibrated with anticipation. “Well, we ain’t no creatures of this forest.”

One by one, covering their noses and mouths to keep from gagging, the group squeezed through the narrow gaps between the trees.

It didn’t take long for the beast within to find them.