Chapter 365 - The Blind Leading the Blind (Patreon)

“Can we go around?” Zeke asked, standing atop a hill and gazing across the tundra. In the distance, he saw four imposing fortresses. So far away, it was difficult to truly gauge their size, but he judged that each of them was far larger than even the ice palace had been. Of course, that wasn’t a surprise, given what he’d been told by the kobold rangers who’d scouted the area. “I really don’t want to have to a bunch of giants again.”

Silik, who’d become like Zeke’s shadow as they’d crossed the tundra, shook his head and said, “Not if we want to leave the Ianthian Wastes anytime in the next few months.”

Then, he went on to explain that the line of forts extended for hundreds of miles in both directions. In one direction, it didn’t end until it hit a mountain range populated by a race of avian people who, according to a few of the more worldly former slaves, were called the jintak. They were known for their savagery and propensity to attack anyone who ventured onto their territory. In the other direction was the distant sea.

So, they could either head toward the coast, build some boats, and sail around the giants’ territory, go in the other direction and fight against the jintak, or punch through the ring of forts and flee into the wilderness. Or they could turn around and retrace their steps, which would not only take weeks, but would also see them going in the wrong direction. None of the options were good, but of the four, Zeke knew which one he preferred.

He still didn’t like it, though.

“Anyone have any dealings with giants?” he asked, looking back at his gathered compaions. Aside from Silik, Kianma, Pudge, Sasha, Jasper, and Eta were there. Silik and Kianma represented the kobolds, while Eta had emerged as the leader of the former slaves. Neither Pudge nor Sasha had any official responsibilities – none of them did, really, as Zeke hadn’t codified any sort of chain of command – but instead represented his interests when he wasn’t around. Everyone knew that he and Pudge were family, so they gave him a similar level of respect they showed to Zeke himself.

As for Jasper – he didn’t really have a place. Indeed, he rarely gave opinions at all, which sometimes made Zeke wonder why the dark elf even bothered with the meetings.

Still, his presence was welcome, if only because he was a strategically necessary part of their fighting force. Without his songs, many among them would already be dead.

Zeke wondered if that would be such a bad thing. He didn’t want anyone to die, but having to manage thousands of people who each depended on his guidance for their very survival was a difficult task. And one for which he was ill-suited. He was no leader, and more than anything else, he longed for the days when it was just him and a few close friends trekking through the wilderness, fighting monsters, and growing stronger.

“Ah, the simple days,” Eveline said. “I remember those, too. Well, I was never really alone. I always had a few thralls. But I understand the draw. By the end, I had hundreds of demons depending on me.”

“How did you deal with it?” Zeke asked.

“I used them,” she said. “That’s something I learned early on. You can’t look at your followers as people. They’re tools. Game pieces to be played. You can’t get too close, and you can’t let yourself care too much.”

“Seems like a callous way to live,” Zeke said.

Indeed, he wasn’t sure if he even could see the kobolds as anything less than people. They were his responsibility, and he desperately wanted them to thrive.

“That’s good. A good leader will always try to do right by her people,” Eveline stated. “But you can’t allow yourself to become too attached. You’ll go mad if you do.”

Zeke just gave a mental shake of his head. He and Eveline disagreed about a lot of things, but he couldn’t subscribe to her ideas on leadership. Even if he sometimes wished he could. Certainly, it would make things easier if he didn’t feel each death so keenly.

And he’d had ample opportunity to explore those feelings as they traversed the Ianthian Wastes. In addition to their daily hunting expeditions, they’d been attacked on many occasions. Whether their assailants were beasts like shard wolves and ursine horrors or semi-sapient humanoids like the various tribes of ice goblins that lived on the tundra, each battle had come with a cost. Zeke had seen plenty of his people die, and he’d felt every single death like the passing of a close friend.

If he’d just been a little smarter, if they’d planned a bit better, or if he’d been a bit faster or stronger, things might have turned out differently for the ones who’d died.

More than once, he’d considered just packing everyone into the tower and trekking across the tundra alone. But coddling them now wasn’t going to help them face the stronger threats to come. So, he kept to the plan, and the army had grown stronger. A few of the juvenile kobolds had even evolved into legionnaires or spiritweavers.

But it was a slow process, not least because the kill energy was split between the entire army. Before, Zeke had known that much of his quick progress had come because he routinely fought alone – especially early on. But now, he truly understood how much of an advantage he’d been given. In the weeks since they’d slain the frost elf, he’d barely progressed at all.

Jasper cleared his throat and said, “I have never fought frost giants, but my people consider the fire giants of East Karak to be mortal enemies.”

“And?” Zeke asked. “Any advice on how to fight them?”

“With what we have? I advise going around,” he said without hesitation.

Eta spoke up, “The jintak will be worse. At least we can see the giants coming.”

The two continued to bicker back and forth about which set of people – the giants or the jintak – were more dangerous. As far as Zeke was concerned, the question was irrelevant. Even if the jintak were weaker, any route that would take Zeke and the others through their territory would require a detour of hundreds of miles. Across the tundra, that would take weeks. So, unless the avian humanoids were peaceful, it just didn’t make sense to go that way.

The sea posed a different, if no less impactful, problem in that traversing it, even if they kept ot the coast, would require some form of conveyance. Zeke didn’t know how to build a boat – not really – and even if he did, the seas were said to be populated by a host of dangerous creatures. He only had to think back to his time in the archipelago in the Radiant Isles – or the mana sharks that lived in the waters – to discard the idea of traversing the sea.

So, in the end, they really only had one way to go.

“I think everyone should enter the tower,” he said. “I can sneak past the giants and –”

“I will go, too,” said Pudge, offering his first contribution to the discussion.

“I will as well, my friend,” added Jasper.

Soon enough, Silik, Eta, and Sasha had also volunteered. Kianma shook her head, saying, “I will stay with my people. They will need guidance.”

Pudge glanced at Sasha and said, “You should go with her.”

“And why would I do that?” she asked.

“It is safer,” he answered, falling into a trap Zeke saw coming from a mile away.

“Oh, you think I’m too weak? Do you remember that giant fireball I summoned against the bear that knocked you out?” she asked. “Or those ice tendrils I trapped the goblins with a few days ago? Or –”

“She should come,” Zeke said.

“Damn right I should come,” Sasha stated, thrusting her chin out in defiance.

“But –”

“Just drop it, Pudge. You’re not winning any battles here,” Zeke cautioned.

Pudge looked as if he was going to argue, but then just shook his head and stormed off. Anger wafted off of him like wisps of steam.

After that, the group began to make plans for their journey. Sending the kobolds and former slaves back into the tower was met with little argument. By that point, everyone was exhausted from their trek across the tundra, and so, they welcomed the chance to rest. Still, there were a couple who protested, but it only took a stern look from Zeke to cut that off.

Once everything was arranged, Zeke found Pudge in the Hunting Grounds, where he’d been fighting a wave scenario against goblins. Zeke watched as his companion ripped through dozens of the little creatures. To him, it was clear that Pudge hadn’t queued of the scenario in search of a challenge. Rather, he just wanted to let off steam.

So, Zeke joined him.

When he did so, Pudge gave him a questioning look, but then another wave of goblins crashed into them. Zeke didn’t bother with his hammer. Instead, he fought with his bare hands, just like Pudge.

And there was nothing graceful about it, either. They fought like beasts, ripping and tearing the much more vulnerable goblins to shreds. Of course, both took plenty of hits along the way as well, and if the fight hadn’t been an advanced illusion, they’d have both needed a trip to the Crimson Springs by the time they were done.

But in the end, after dozens of waves and hundreds – if not thousands – of defeated goblins, Pudge ended the simulation. The illusory bodies as well as the environment disappeared, leaving only the blank construct behind – which meant that it looked like an unadorned white chamber the size of a football field.

Exhausted, Pudge collapsed to a seated position, and Zeke joined him. He wasn’t quite as fatigued as the former dire bear, but he certainly appreciated the rest.

The pair sat there for a long time until, at last, Pudge looked up and asked, “Why?”

“Why what?” Zeke asked, already knowing the answer.

“Sasha can’t go,” he said. “It is too dangerous.”

Zeke sighed. “Buddy, I’m no expert on women –”

“Definitely not,” interjected Eveline.

Zeke ignored her and went on, “But a surefire way to alienate someone like Sasha is to imply that she can’t handle herself.”

“But she is too…weak…no. Not weak. Vulnerable,” Pudge said. “I want…I want to protect her. She needs me to keep her safe.”

“She seemed pretty capable from what I’ve seen.”

Pudge gave him an incredulous look. “She will…she might…”

He let out a subdued growl that suggested just how frustrated he was. Not only was Pudge inexperienced when it came to just about everything, but he also lacked the vocabulary to convey his thoughts.

Zeke said, “Calm down. Just say what you think, okay? I’m not going to judge you. You know that, don’t you?”

Pudge gave another growl before his shoulders dropped. For a long moment, he just stared at the featureless white ground. Then, he took a long, deep breath. And another after that. A couple more, and he said, “I do not want to…I cannot lose her.”

“I know, buddy,” Zeke said, reaching to grip his companion’s shoulder. It trembled beneath his touch – with frustration? Rage?

“He’s scared,” Eveline suggested.

“Do you remember much from before your ascension?” Zeke asked.

“I…I don’t…I remember some things.”

“What about my shield? Do you remember that?” was Zeke’s next question. Pudge told him that he did, and Zeke went on, asking, “Do you know why I started using it?”

Pudge shook his head, but he didn’t verbalize a response.

“I was terrified,” Zeke stated. “For two years…I mean, I think it was two years. It might have been even longer than that…”

Zeke went quiet. He had always latched onto two years as the time he’d spent in the troll caves, but back then, he’d had no real way of telling time. For all he knew, it had been three or four years. It might’ve even been a decade.

“For a long time, I was alone,” he went on. “Just me. I think I went a little crazy, you know? Like, I spent days just wandering in the dark with only my memories for company. I recently went through something similar, and it shined a light on a lot of things I didn’t want to even think about. Like how lonely I was. How much I needed my friends.

“Then you were there. Barely as big as a puppy. And I latched onto you so hard that I basically rewrote one of my skills. I think back now at how wrong that could have gone…but you know what? I’d do it all over again. A thousand times, I’d always make that same decision. Even if I knew there was a good chance it would backfire and kill me. Do you know why?”

Pudge shook his head.

“Because I needed you, even if I didn’t know it. It was the same with Abby. I liked her, sure. A lot. I still do. Even if I can’t get over what she did, there’s always going to be a piece of me…”

Zeke trailed off, only to pick back up a few moments later, “Anyway, after you two came into my life, I was so terrified of losing you that I started imagining myself as some great protector. I got a shield. I even learned how to use it passably well. Even though I knew, deep down, that I was trying to be something I wasn’t, I still clung to it so hard that I developed a martial path dedicated to the shield. But ultimately, it was a flawed concept. I wasn’t doing it out of a desire to protect. Instead, I just didn’t want to be alone anymore.

“The irony of it was that I was making things harder. By trying to shield you two – and later, Talia and Tucker – from harm, I was hamstringing myself. I was holding you all back, too. If I kept protecting you, you’d never learn to fend for yourself,” Zeke said. “I had to let go. I had to be myself.”

“What does this mean?” Pudge asked.

“It means that you can’t hover over Sasha’s shoulder,” Zeke answered. “I know you care about her a great deal. I like her, too, by the way. She’s good for you. But if you never let her stand on her own two feet, she’ll never reach her potential. She knows that, and that’s why she got so angry when you tried to keep her safe in the tower.”

“But…I need…”

“That’s what you’re not seeing, buddy,” Zeke said. “It’s not about what you need. This is about her and what she needs. Like I said, I’m no expert on women, but even I can see that if you keep trying to control her, you’re going to lose her.” He reached out and patted Pudge on the shoulder before saying, “Just food for thought. Take it however you want.”

Then, without saying anything else, he got up and left the Hunting Grounds behind. Pudge remained where he was, lost in thought.