RE: Monarch

I snapped back into my body.

Disappointment washed over me. The presence of the black beast could only mean one thing. I’d failed. And if the persistent throbbing, bone-deep pain meant the attempt to teleport through the barrier had damaged my soul, I was in a considerably worse place than where I started.

Only—this wasn’t where I started.

There was a canopy of trees above me.

Eckor was still standing in the open field, his hands cupped around his mouth. He took in a massive breath, clearly preparing to shout. “Wake—Oh. You’re alive.”

Realization dawned on me. Eckor was on the other side of the barrier.

I made it.

“So it would seem.” I looked at my arms and lower body, gently testing each of my muscles and checking my mana pathways. Pain still lingered, but nothing appeared to be drastically out of place. Just a strange hypersensitivity that made even the slight stirring of the wind unpleasant. “How long was I out?”

“Just long enough for me to think about who they’d place the blame on me if you killed yourself.” Eckor glowered. “Two, three minutes at most.”

Not long. It could have been worse, but it was still more of a head start than I wanted to give the drephin. “Help Maya spread the word to stay away from the perimeter. Maybe try to mark the boundary line so there are no accidental casualties.”

“And if they don’t listen?” Eckor looked doubtful. “I’m a nobody. Nobles don’t like taking orders from a nobody.”

“Then make sure people understand what’s happening when the stubborn ones slit their own throats.” I felt Eckor’s eyes follow me as I stood, driving mana into the inscriptions on my legs and sprinting towards where the surviving drephin had disappeared into the forest.

To an unseasoned observer, there wouldn’t be much of a trail to follow. The elf wasn’t as hysterical as I’d hoped. But after years of tracking more difficult prey through the sanctum, the slight impressions on the ground showed as starkly as bootprints in mud. I followed them at a breakneck pace, trying to regain the ground I’d lost.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized that being back in the Everwood—a place that had brought me little other than grief or hardship—didn’t intimidate me in the least. The trees themselves seemed smaller, less sinister than before. When the rustling of an animal or the snapping of a twig caught my ears, I looked for the source with interest and curiosity, rather than fear.

Not that I had much time for curiosity.

I got the feeling from both Maya’s and Melody’s descriptions that the drephin were probably nomadic, which automatically made this far more difficult than if I’d been following someone less experienced with moving through brush undetected. Considering the drephin’s legendary status, their animal forms, and the absence of knowledge around them, it went without saying that their ability to traverse areas without being spotted or noticed was second to none. I needed to catch up to her as quickly as possible.

The impressions on the ground grew more faint. There was far less disturbed brush and trampled greenery. I frowned. She’d stopped panicking, her trail better thought out and more tactical every span she covered. The deeper I went into the forest, the more complex her pathing became.

Eventually, the impressions disappeared altogether.

There had to be something I was missing. Carefully, I retraced my steps, trying to ensure the woman hadn’t led me down a false trail, finding nothing.

I gripped the amulet around my neck tightly. “You’re probably still asleep, but I could really use some help right now.”

Vogrin stirred. There was an uncharacteristic pause, and when he spoke, his voice was icy and unamused. “I have never stated this directly, because I assumed it went without saying. Perhaps my doing so was in error, assigning you far too much credit. You know that my death would not void our contract?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I searched around, trying to regain the trail.

“I mention this, because it seems while I was utterly drained of mana and defenseless, someone disassembled me down to my base elements. The only reason I’m not waking up in the hells right now is because they were kind enough to put me back together.”

I hadn’t tried to recreate Vogrin, just the amulet. I’d assumed—perhaps preemptively—that in spirit form he’d simply migrate to the summoning amulet when it reformed. More importantly, I wasn’t sure I could even do what he was describing. I understood my armor, my biology, and my weapons and gear on an intrinsic level. The contracted demon who lived in an amulet around my neck was another story.

Had the voice I’d entreated actually helped me?

I brought Vogrin up to speed as quickly as possible. He was far from pleased, berating me for doing something so stupid and making me swear not to repeat the effort when he was dormant, and refusing to assist until I let him look me over.

“Your physical makeup is more or less correct, but your underlying mana pathways look like a child patched them together,” Vogrin chided. The diagnostic spell faded from his fingertip.

“Is that… fixable?” I asked.

“If the healer perfected her craft in your absence? Perhaps.” Vogrin gave me a dour look. “But you’ll want to rely heavily on those inscriptions of yours in the interim and reduce your use of external magic until she rectifies your hackwork.”

“Fantastic.” I rolled my eyes, then grew stoic. “Vogrin?”

“Yes?”

“When you analyzed me, did anything else stand out?”

“Like what?”

“Unknown mana in my pathways?”

Vogrin tilted his head with a concerned expression. “Nascent corruption?”

I nodded. Most corruption started small. Tiny clumps of mana drawn from corrupted sources, slowly drawing together and eventually forming a blockage, the restricted mana turning starved, and vulnerable, and ultimately malignant.

“No. The reconstruction wasn’t perfect, but you are otherwise untainted.” He waited a beat. “Were you exposed in my absence?”

“Just being careful,” I said.

“Keep your secrets, then.” Vogrin grimaced. It struck me that he was semi-transparent, his blindfold translucent enough to reveal a grisly burn that encompassed both eyes.

He stooped low, studying the ground where the trail faded. “Our quarry spent a significant portion of mana here.” He pointed a long, skeletal finger towards the northwest, where the greenery was so overgrown I wasn’t sure I could have navigated it without leaving a trail. “What little residue is left, while faint, points in that direction.”

“Why are you see-through?” I asked as an afterthought.

“Because my ability to manifest requires drawing mana from my master, and drawing mana from my master in his current state is like drinking water from a glacier. Materializing to this extent was only possible because of my considerable skill. Any more moronic questions, or may I be dismissed?” Vogrin asked. He’d accepted my earlier explanation, but tinkering with him during his recovery had clearly touched a nerve.

“That’s all. Sleep.” I resisted the urge to apologize and my summon faded from view. Demons weren’t the irrational monsters I once believed them to be. They could be bargained with, and on rare occasions they were actually reasonable. But any show of weakness was blood in the water for their kind. And there was no doubt in my mind that Vogrin would see contrition as a show of weakness.

Perhaps there was something I could do instead of an apology once we reached Whitefall. Vogrin was shrewd, and incredibly knowledgeable, but considering the significant time he’d existed only in the hells, much of his knowledge was outdated. Letting him loose in the royal library would go a long way towards making up for the slight.

I returned my attention to the ground, following the steps to their terminus. Once I reached it, I crouched, studying the ground in greater detail. Using Vogrin’s direction, I finally found what I was looking for.

There were no human-sized tracks. But where the humanoid trail ended, a well-hidden animal trail began. The woman had shifted into something small and quadruped, no larger than a rodent. Her trail led directly to a tall tree, where scratch marks on the wood showed she’d successfully scaled it, out towards a narrow branch where the trail disappeared—until I spotted a scratched up branch on a connecting tree.

It was a clever gambit. Even if someone followed the altered trail, this route would slow them down significantly.

I leapt from tree to tree, following the highway of mangled branches. Several times I had to pause, actively focusing on gathering from the ambient mana in the Everwood before I could continue.

Vogrin was right. My mana pathways were less efficient than before, and I was still dealing with the considerable post-sanctum adjustment every infernal who graduated dealt with on return to the surface. However I dealt with the drephin leader, it needed to be swift. Completely decisive. If this devolved into open conflict, I’d quickly find myself drained and helpless.

The scent of char pervaded the canopy as green leaves and healthy tree trunks suddenly gave way to burned out husks and gnarled branches. The blackened clearing that remained looked like the result of an old forest fire.

It took a moment to identify what I was seeing in the clearing. The tents, and the drephin themselves, were so well camouflaged I could have easily walked past this place unaware.

A young male drephin pushed his way out of a tent, scanning his surroundings immediately, hand resting uneasily on the hilt of a blade. Once the tent flap settled, the tent itself almost seemed to disappear. It was impossible to know whether this effect was the result of magic or craftsmanship. Either way, the result was impressive. If the drephin were alert and hidden, a regiment of men could have marched through here and missed the encampment entirely.

It was large, but not large enough to house the numbers I’d seen on the first loop. It stood to reason they had more camps like this, multiple operating points deep within the Everwood. They were coordinating somehow.

If the woman hadn’t led me here, it would have been nigh impossible to find the correct camp.

Out of the corner of my eye, the mound of dirt and leaves beside me appeared to be breathing. I pivoted towards the movement and drew my sword, pointing it towards the movement.

A muddy arm burst from concealment and grabbed the dull end of my blade, yanking me down to the ground before I could let go.

I hit the ground, reaching backward for my knife. Something seized my head and chin in a vise-like grip, as if preparing to tear it from my shoulders.

King Gil growled.

“Be. Still.”

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