Chapter 149 - The Storm Claw Clan (Patreon)

Lulu of Madra

He crushed them in an instant.

The thought echoed dully through her mind over and over. Historic events that prophecy clearly stated would shape her people’s lives for the rest of time were unfolding right before her eyes, and had been since the day before, but all she could think about was his overwhelming display of power. It gnawed at her, demanding her focus.

What could she do with that kind of power? What couldn’t she do?

All sense of who she was and what her life meant had been shattered again and again. She had met the Great Spirit who had been eagerly awaited for centuries, only to have her role as his herald stripped from her. On the verge of transcendence—death in all but name—she was saved, her limbs restored, a new life given with nothing asked in return. Then, he brought her high into the sky and the world beyond their valley was spread out beneath her. She had thought that was the peak. How wrong she had been. Now, seeing the scene unfolding before her, she was once more forced to confront how shallow their little spirit-pond at the edge of their valley truly was.

Lulu’s errant thoughts were shattered by a shrill, trilling warble. She stared down at the all too timberling-esque face of the hunter kneeling before her savior. The male, yes, he was definitely a man, looked up at the Great Spirit with features contorted by hatred and malice. They were emotions she had only seen one other time in her life; just before the Matron had consigned her to transcendence; the same moment her limbs had been torn off as a tribute to the very hunters before her. Seeing them directed at the one person she owed everything to, something strange inside her boiled, seeking release.

She felt like she was falling as she stared into the lead hunter’s eyes, drowning in the foreign emotions. She was unable to look away from the dark orbs that had no doubt witnessed the end of so many of her kin. The others behind him cried and moaned, the strange warbling squawks of their language easily conveying their desperation, making the foreign itch in her chest all the stronger. The leader’s voice was hard, pained, but in control as he said something. The Great Spirit responded harshly, his hand cutting through the air.

Suddenly, a glowing disk of molten power appeared beside him, snapping her from her trance. Every instinct within her screamed to flee, for the power contained inside that small disk was beyond anything she had ever fathomed. She grabbed her thighs so tightly her arms trembled. Her fingers dug deeply into her muscles and they cried out in torment.

She would never run from him.

Upon waking up to their smiling faces, she had sworn to herself that she would face whatever changes he brought, she would adapt or die trying. She was now the embodiment of a new truth: that each breath she drew from this day forward was the sweetest of gifts. The thought of dying again while running away caused bile to rise up her throat. She swallowed it down, burying the disgust amidst a churning sea of determination. She visualized roots growing from her feet, burrowing deep into the soil, anchoring her to the Great Root. Suddenly, she was so calm and focused that fresh leaves sprouted from her neck and wilted on the spot.

Is this part of his powers? Since when am I the calm one?

She refocused on the leader, on her enemy’s eyes, which were widened in blind terror as they tracked the spinning disk buzzing around the Great Spirit’s body. The hiver cowered in front of them. Seeing him so shaken called to that something inside her, that primal and delicious feeling that gnawed at her heartwood. She bit her lip so hard the skin broke, leaking sweet sap into her mouth. The pain helped her mind distance itself from the overwhelming and complex emotions she had no other way to process.

They can fear, cry, and beg. They’re like us… that’s… that’s wrong. They are not like us at all. How many? How many have they eaten? How many more would they have devoured in the future if not for the Great Spir-for Jiran. He asked to be called Jiran, so I must endeavor to do so. That will not be easy, I have prayed to the Great Spirit my whole life. We all have.

Niya spoke, her disjointed song deep and smooth. The sounds caressed Lulu’s skin, sending warm prickles up her back as they always did. She waited patiently for Jiran to translate but he chose not to this time, which was fine; it was not her place to know all things. Jiran shook his head in response, his wavy black hair swaying like fine moss in the wind.

The hiver started to say something else but was cut off by Jiran, whose voice was as hard as the metals hiding deep within the soil, “You protect them?! Do you honestly believe that? So you would label yourselves farmers, guarding your flock against the shrelks while you occasionally cull the herd for your own benefit?” Lulu’s mind started to blank as her vision swam, with pure force of will, she distracted herself by setting her gaze on the Great Spirit, refusing to consume the sap that her people were little more than fruit waiting to be plucked.

The Grea-Jiran has a bad habit of interrupting when others are singing. Without branches, it must be hard to know when a song ends. Then again, perhaps it is his way of proclaiming he is powerful enough to survive a harmony?

The leader responded with a croaking screech and a shrill caw. Jiran shook his head again, this time there was a sadness in it Lulu could not understand. Her brows scrunched and she felt the leaves on her shoulders speeding through the season to match her confusion.

The spinning disk that had been humming so loudly it made her teeth ache suddenly unleashed its destructive might. It moved far too quickly to follow, unfurling into a crimson snake that scarred her vision. It stretched across the entire distance to the Wall of Lost Souls. There, all of its unfathomable power splashed against the rock, melting hundreds of tons into slag that flowed downhill in a molten river. Her bark ached from the heat in the air as the smell of ash and burnt meat filled her nose.

Every one of the hivers' mouths fell open as they craned their necks to see the devastation caused by that single, casual attack. When they turned back and found three more of the disks hovering around Jiran, even their moans fell silent as they were overwhelmed with despair.

All save one in the back, who began to cackle with mad delight, his head thrown back to face the sky.

Jiran of Madra

"Finally! The Storm Claw Clan has flown too close to the unfathomable hollow and burned their wings!" One of the tier three Forkara Hunters laughed, madness ringing in his hysterical guffaws.

"Silence, chick!" The leader cawed.

Jiran had been a mere moment from ending the lot of them for their heinous murders. The unhinged laughter brought him up short and stayed his hand.

"You can silence me no longer, Fakkara! This day has been long in the coming and I can only consider myself fortunate enough to witness it!" The tier three met Jiran's cold stare with a vicious smile full of blood-stained teeth. "Thank you, stranger. The Storm Claw Clan has lorded over this place for generations, forcing the clans to bend wing for the privilege of safely ascending their scions." He spit blood on the ground, his face a strange mixture of pain and joy.

The leader screamed, but no one heard his voice as his head was wrapped in Jiran’s aura. The sight of his silent screeching brought the others out of their shock.

I need to calm down, I’m not any more rational than their leader right now. Leaders! Damnit, Jiran. Of course I can’t make this big of a decision without involving them.

While Jiran’s minds raced, the same tier three spoke again, "They hold nine strongholds within the valley walls, each the same distance from their peers. To the north and west, their capital perch rests. Only two thousand soldiers guar—" he was cut off as one of the tier four’s released a strangled cry, struggling with all his might to break free from Jiran’s aura.

"How dare you betray us, Chokkra! Your family will die a thousand deaths and it will not be enough!"

“So be it! A small price to pay for a front branch at your execution,” Chokkra flashed his teeth and laughed in the tier four’s face.

“You,” Jiran pointed at Chokkra while blocking sound from reaching the rest, “What tier are the strongest of your people?”

“My clan, the Hollow Claw Clan, is led by a tier six known as Horakk. As far as I know, only the head clans are led by tier sevens. There has not been a tier eight to rule since the betrayal of the founders. The worthless fallak-sucking clan heads refuse to work together long enough to ascend,” Chokkra spit on the ground and then blew air out of his nose in an angry whistle.

He’s being awfully cooperative. Just an opportunist, or something else?

“How many clans are there?”

“Two hundred and forty-something, I think. Though only seventeen are worthy of being named ‘head.’”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“The Storm Claw have culled our chicks, stolen our supplies, and pillaged our lands for generations while hiding behind the prestige owning this farm grants them. My hatred for their black hearts runs far deeper than words can convey.” As if to prove his point, his muscles bulged as he pulled against Jiran’s aura to reach the nearest hunter. The murderous intent in his eyes was clear for all to see.

Jiran looked over his shoulder at Mayalyn who gave him a subtle nod.

So he’s telling the truth. Or he’s good enough at lying that even Mayalyn can’t tell.

Jiran extended his sound-blocking layer of aura to include Chokkra. He motioned for the others to join him and filled Mayalyn, Niya, and Lulu in on the entire conversation, only excluding the piteous excuses of why the Forkara thought it was acceptable to murder sapients in the name of ascension.

“Disgusting! I’m amazed you didn’t kill them already.” Niya held her stomach while grimacing, barely holding off the bile that threatened to spill on the ground.

Mayalyn’s tone was hard, matching her twisted expression, “Whatever you decide, I will support you. That said, I am not in favor of killing them. That choice should be left to the Timberlings. They are the ones who live here and must face the repercussions of your actions.”

“That’s what I was thinking, too. Niya, Lulu, can you two work together to bring the leaders of the sects here?” Lulu immediately took a half-step back, fear flashing across her features.

She shook her head sharply, mumbling something under her breath before stepping forward. Her jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles in her face quivered, “I will not fail you,” She growled through her teeth.

“It’s okay if you can’t get them all to come. I can always go get the stubborn ones myself. You’ll have Niya with you, she might not be able to understand you, but she’s more than strong enough to wrangle a few tier three’s.”

“What are you going to be doing?” Niya questioned, his face still distorted in disgust as her hand gently landed on Lulu’s shoulder.

“I’m going to have our new friend show me around the area. He mentioned more Forkara nearby, so I’ll deal with them and then if I’m lucky, he’ll know where some tier sevens are. I’ll feel a lot better with my timer reset. Let’s plan to meet back here at sunsset.”

“What about them?” Mayalyn lifted her chin toward the prisoners.

“They can stay right here,” Jiran pulled on the elemental energy in the disks hovering around him, turning it back into neutral mana. He formed his intent and familiarized himself with the nearby synapses of the framework.

I’ll use the same formation design as I saw in Mortan. I’ve still got most of their mana here too. There has to be some poetic justice in using their own mana against them.

When he was ready, he bent down and walked backward in a wide circle around the hunters while trailing his finger along the ground. As he moved, Mana Confluence and Elemental Castigation worked in tandem to pull the dirt together into the shape he wanted. The molecules in the minerals making up the soil were torn apart and remade into incredibly durable metal laced with graphene. The conduit being formed wherever his finger passed was rectangular in shape, though bent at a smooth angle so it could wrap all the way around the hunters. He left a long groove on both the top and bottom, where the mana he planned to put into the formation could be steadily released.

When he finished, the elongated block was only a few centimeters tall and wide and roughly fifteen meters in diameter. The Forkara watched intently with worried, confused expressions as he began a second loop around them. This time, Jiran filled the dozens of ultra-thin sheets of graphene inside the metal with his aura and mana. Simultaneously, he focused on the synapses inside the circular block, infusing them with a clear mental image that should allow the entire formation to continue to function without further input from him.

Okay, the mana is trapped inside the solid formation with intent to direct it. I’m not even sure if aura is needed, but after my experiments with teleportation, it just feels… right to add it. Time to turn this thing on!

After using everything he had taken from the Forkara, he used nearly a third of his mana and a quarter of his aura to fully fill the formation. He pulled Chorakka out of the group and then released his tight hold on the mana and aura inside the formation. With a crackling hum, a sheet of elemental lightning flowed out from the grooves on the top and bottom of the formation, stretching both above and below the hunters and trapping them in a spherical prison of electricity.

Jiran pressed his finger into the thin sheet of blue lightning. The skin where he touched the forcefield burned, flesh popping and smoking as a strong current raced through him. He fought off the convulsions, jerking back his finger and popping it into his mouth. Mana Confluence was quick to regenerate the burns. He smiled, more than satisfied with the result.

“I hate you so much,” Niya shook her head and scowled at him. “I studied for moons to make a crap formation that could barely light a fire and you make… that, on your first attempt. And you want to run off to solo unknown beasts that are usually killed by a full party of tier sevens with aspects. Ugh. C’mon Lulu, let’s go. I don’t want to see what he does next.”

Lulu released a strangled cry as Niya’s aura pulled her into the air toward the forest. Jiran grinned and watched them go for a second before turning to Mayalyn. “Before I leave the valley, I’ll round up the rest of the Forkara in the cliffs and bring them here as well. Will you keep an eye on them? You shouldn’t have to do anything but watch. If they give you any trouble, I made the field with the lightning element so you’ll have plenty of reserves to pull on.” Seeing her puffed-cheek pout, Jiran explained his reasoning, “Niya has an aura to quickly move through the forest and transport the sect leaders. And you’re the strongest one here after me. If one of us is going to watch them, you’re the best choice.”

“Yes, yes I know. And you will hopefully find and be fighting tier sevens. Taking me with you would be foolish and so would leaving the Forkara to themselves. I will do it, but you owe me… something extra special.”

“Extra special? Okay. I can do that,” Jiran nodded resolutely, taking her condition seriously.

She threw her arms around him in a quick hug but when he bent down to kiss her, she pushed him away with rosy cheeks, “Nope, cannot handle that after your… display. Well, off you go, the sooner you are gone, the sooner you are back!”

I hope this isn’t the new normal while she’s in her heating cycle. But if it’s hard for her, I’m not going to complain or make it worse on purpose.

“Be back soon, stay safe.” Jiran gave her a relaxed, understanding smile and then pulled Chokkra to him. Mana Confluence flooded the boy’s body with regenerating energy, rebuilding his wings and healing the damage from his fall. Chokkra released a strangled cry as he flexed his wings. He spread them wide and gently ran his fingers through his feathers with wonder. The other Forkara screamed and yelled, throwing profanities his way. He shook his head, looking back at them with empty disdain in his eyes.

Mayalyn flashed forward, her hand easily sinking through the barrier of caged lightning. She spread her fingers wide and a jolt of current arced through the group, lighting them up and turning their protests into convulsing screams. Jiran’s brows lifted when he realized she somehow controlled her new skill well enough to shock each of them at a different voltage depending on their tier. When she pulled her hand back out of the sphere, she had a goofy grin on her face and her eyes were sparkling with electricity. Without missing a beat, she vanished as her Obfuscating activated before she zipped to the treeline and back again, leaving a trail of crackling energy in her wake.

Oh great, she’s totally hopped up on lightning again. Well at least I don’t have to worry about her, she’s probably faster than I am right now.

She stopped, Mana Omins clearly perceiving her through her invisibility. Her gaze pierced right through him, causing his heart to beat wildly. When she licked her lips with a predatory smile, Jiran grabbed Chokkra and beat a hasty retreat.