V2Ch83-Fire and Death
“So, you’re setting out as well?” Tybalt asked.
He stood at ground level as the desert sun slowly rose, Carlos’s caravan packed up in front of him. The necromancer wore a full set of bone armor with a longer version of his spinal column dirk at his side, now extended with a thigh bone into a full sword.
Dero stood to Tybalt’s left side, Baldwin to the right. The dark elf had Valmont on one shoulder, calmly observing events. Baldwin stood at the opposite side looking ominous, a silent, protective shadow… ever since Tybalt had ordered him to act like a silent, protective shadow instead of cracking jokes like he hadn’t had company in decades.
“There’s no rest for the rebel,” Carlos replied, grinning. The older man looked like he’d been injected with new life. “No rest for the man who’s discontent with the status quo. No, my lord, I must set to work helping you with your future trade plans as well as aiding Heimar in reestablishing the faith of his god.”
Tybalt nodded. “Well, go with the gods.”
“Only the ones that favor us, I hope,” said the merchant.
“You look younger, old man,” Dero said. “I guess you were starting to get bored of your comfortable merchant’s life.”
“Oh, yes, so comfortable it was before, traveling around the continent, almost being eaten by crocodiles,” Carlos agreed.
“That was one time!”
“And I take no offense at being called old by a woman who could be my great-grandmother either.”
“If I was, you’d look younger,” she replied.
They spoke some final pleasantries, and Tybalt gave some last instructions to Heimar and Raybeck, and finally, the merchant and his remaining security along with the nachzehrer and enlightened ghoul set out.
The necromancer turned to face back toward the mountain, though not before noticing the hint of sadness on Dero’s face. The dark elf scowled as his eyes paused on her face. He thought for a fraction of a second and decided he didn’t have time to try and make her open up. So he instead looked back to where beastfolk continued to gather for the expedition.
“You’d think they would be up before daybreak, when we’re leaving at daybreak, and the sky is the only thing they really have to indicate the time out here,” he said, shaking his head.
Back in the Kingdom, businesses had hourglasses, villages had sundials, some people owned water clocks. One temple he’d visited had even had an incense clock that measured time by how long it took incense to burn.
Time was relaxed in the villages, but everywhere else civilized, the world ran on a schedule.
Out here, the world was timeless. Only the cycles of night and day, and of the seasons, mattered.
“Oh yes, it makes sense that these beastmen would be happy to show up on time and die for you, an outsider,” Dero replied. “No reason they would be reluctant at all.”
“At least they brought supplies,” the necromancer said after a moment. People wore packs on their bodies, and the groups had several wagons between them. He ignored what Dero had said for the moment. It was just another reminder that he would never be fully accepted by the people he was slowly coming to control. But he didn’t accept that it was true. Many peoples had accepted foreign kings in the past. It was often thought of as advantageous to bring a foreign dynasty in to rule, since it would not show as much immediate favoritism among factions.
This does not bode well to the fox tribe in particular submitting to my authority. I would at least expect the people who were reminded about this yesterday to be present and on time. Imagine having to tell your future child that you missed the war for your people’s future, because you slept in. Then again… how many of each tribe can I really expect?
Tybalt spotted Andric standing near the other foxmen, and he decided to try asking him. Tybalt’s fellow war chief would at least be knowledgeable as to how many fox tribe members to expect. Probably the harpies too.
The ibexmen were already out in force, though more of them kept trickling in. They were not disappointing him.
The catfolk stood apart from the rest, in formation, spears and bows at the ready, not quite at attention but ready to snap to it at any given moment. It was clear that they had trained all their lives for this inevitable moment, and the catfolk Council of Elders had assured Tybalt that they were sending their entire population except the children and a fraction of adults needed to care for them, mainly the elderly.
The cat tribe’s numbers showed the truth of that promise: eight hundred tall, strong, deadly-looking specimens of the superiority the tribe had attempted to breed into its members. Their resolve and commitment would most likely always put the other tribes to shame. Even some of the older men and women were present, though the catfolk had far fewer of those than the other tribes.
The necromancer stepped over to Andric, who was having a laugh with a few other foxmen.
“Well met, fellow war chief,” Tybalt said as he drew close.
The merriment around Andric seemed to stop in an instant, though the foxman himself turned and seemed to be in a reasonably good mood as he set eyes on the necromancer.
He stepped away with a “Later” to the other men and walked up to meet Tybalt, then led the necromancer a short distance from the group. Perfect for conferring privately.
“You look a bit tired,” Tybalt said as he got a better view of Andric’s face. The foxman’s eyes were slightly red, and was that a hint of alcohol smell on his clothing?
“I stayed out all night, drinking with, um, a friend.”
Drowning your sorrows, or having fun with this friend? the necromancer wondered.
“You’re still all right to march?” Tybalt asked.
Andric raised an eyebrow. “I’m fine. You know, you look tired, too.”
Tybalt flashed back instantly to that morning, when he’d woken up to Vidalia between his legs, sucking him into her mouth again before the sun was up. She had followed that up by getting on top of him and - despite her claims of soreness - riding him for long enough that she awakened everyone else in the hut with her moaning. That was after everything they’d gotten up to the previous night.
At least they all tried to be understanding… No one even made fun of the fact that she was so wobbly on her feet afterward. There was a first night for everyone, and the group was conscious of the fact that it was a special time for Vidalia.
Plus, she wasn’t coming on this journey with Tybalt, though Mariella and Victoria were both in attendance. That had to sting.
But someone needed to stay and take care of Kistana - who was still recovering, whatever she might claim to the contrary - and the necromancer would have been hesitant to bring Vidalia along anyway. She couldn’t fight, only put people to sleep and mess with their dreams.
To her credit, Vidalia hadn’t uttered a word of complaint.
“I… had an early morning,” Tybalt said once he realized Andric was waiting for him to say something. “I’m still a bit groggy. But I’m glad I had the chance to say goodbye to everyone.”
“Well, don’t fall asleep on your feet. We… need someone to lead us.” The foxman spoke those last words hesitantly, as if a part of him questioned whether Tybalt was the right one - or maybe whether they truly needed a leader, though the necromancer doubted that was it.
Of course he’s still a little annoyed after yesterday. But the necromancer would not bring it up. Not if he could let sleeping dogs lie.
“Looks like we’re just about all down here,” Andric continued.
Tybalt turned and looked. “Oh, yeah. I guess so.”
The ibexmen had seemingly fully materialized, now, around two hundred of them in total. There were around thirty harpies and close to fifty foxmen.
We really couldn’t get more members of the fox tribe out here? I guess that’s just another detail that confirms they’re really the ones I have the least control over right now, despite being adopted into the tribe and marrying two of their members.
“I saw how the catfolk were reacting to you back when you first met them,” Andric said, oblivious to Tybalt’s train of thought. “But how in Abadd did you get the ibexfolk to make this level of commitment?”
“I threatened to disintegrate their Council of Elders.”
The men shared a laugh.
“Really, though,” Tybalt said after they’d both caught their breath.
“I guess that’s one of those things only you could get away with,” Andric said with a hint of envy.
“I don’t know. The way the tribes were before I showed up, they were just waiting for someone popular and farsighted enough to shove the Elders from their seats. All four of them. They had grown complacent, and in the case of the ibexfolk, too damned useless to be left in their places. The fox tribe’s Council is better but could still benefit from improvements. The harpies have indecisive leadership, while the catfolk Council has kept too tight a rein on things, to the point that they stamped out what makes life worth preserving in the first place.”
Andric cast an eye to either side, making sure no one was standing close enough to hear them, before he replied. “Why are you… telling me all this?”
“Isn’t it obvious? You’ve said it yourself. In such uncertain times, a new generation of leaders must arise. A change of directions is inevitable, or the cart will tumble over a cliff. One man can’t do it all alone. And you would have been the natural choice to lead if I had never appeared. It’s logical that I would want you to be involved, helping me. If…”
“If?”
“If you’re willing. And if I can trust you.” Andric looked slightly affronted at the latter sentence, so Tybalt continued, “There was an attempt on my life, several days ago. Someone set off an explosion, using the same alchemic mixture that you and your defenders brought against the Army. They targeted me, Victoria, Vidalia, Eldest Isak… and they didn’t care that there were a bunch of orphan children right there too. The only people who had access to the substance were your fighters and the fox tribe’s Council of Elders.”
The foxman froze.
“You think I did it?”
“If I did, do you think you’d be out here, about to lead an expedition against the Kingdom with me? No, you’d be dead. I’m telling you, because I hope you are the person I can trust. And to explain some of the decisions I’ll make on this campaign. We’re not just waging war. We’re looking for traitors. You’d agree with me that the penalty for something like that is a swift death, right?”
“That would normally go before the relevant tribe’s Council- ”
“And if a faction of killers sits on the Council?”
“That’s hard to imagine.”
“I intend to punish whoever is responsible myself,” Tybalt said. “If there are no members of the fox tribe’s Council involved, then I’ll happily report back to them about it afterward. But those who tried to kill me, Vidalia, Victoria, the Eldest, Kistana, Dero, the children… Whoever is responsible will die. Even if it was someone who fought alongside us before… or members of the fox tribe’s Council.”
“I agree,” said Andric after a moment. But there was a nervousness about him.
Is he worried because he’s complicit? Or because he’s afraid to find out who it is? The necromancer already knew who at least a couple of the culprits were, but he also knew he didn’t have the full story on the conspiracy.
“I guess we’d better address the troops,” Tybalt said.
“It should be you,” Andric replied. “This is really your show. I’ll stand by your side, and I’m in support of this adventure, but you’re the one who understands the why of it.”
“Thank you, then,” the necromancer replied quietly. “And I appreciate your support in this other matter. It will be good having someone who grew up among the fox tribe watching my back.”
“Of course. I’m sure I won’t be the only one.”
The necromancer raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps. As much as I try to be one of you, I know not everyone will accept me. No matter how high I may rise.” He paused. “By the way, um, this is awkward to say, but I noticed that the fox tribe isn’t really… sending a lot of people. The catfolk sent almost everyone, of course, and I managed to browbeat the ibex Council into sending all the able-bodied men. Even the harpies, who are entirely female, sent about half as many people as the fox tribe. Were you guys depopulated after the Army’s recent attacks, or is there a reluctance to participate that I don’t understand? You and I know how important it is that the next phase of fighting doesn’t happen here, where the noncombatant women, the children, and the elderly will be in direct danger.”
“That… I had the same issue when I organized to defend the village. This is actually a better turnout than I got. Still, we are a more hollowed out tribe than the ibexfolk… and the catfolk have been more successful at avoiding casualties than any of us, not counting the casualties their unique practices create.”
“I understand,” Tybalt said.
So, the catfolk are the most populous tribe, followed by the ibexfolk, if the rough idea of populations I have is correct. Significantly further behind are the fox tribe and the harpies… the latter because of their unique reproductive situation. Harpies were all female, so they exclusively mated out of their tribe. Just over half of their children were non-harpies, leading to stagnation or decline in their numbers unless they had more than two surviving children apiece.
Tybalt and Andric walked across the distance that separated them from the beastfolk fighters, and their bearing must have conveyed their intentions, because the chatter of the rabble died down, and they became something like quiet enough for Tybalt to hear himself think.
He tried not to think of all the times he’d heard Volusia address the troops, since that man was far from an example that Tybalt wanted to follow.
As the necromancer opened his mouth to speak, Victoria and Mariella walked over to join him at his right, Baldwin and Dero sliding in beside Andric on Tybalt’s left. The necromancer cleared his throat, and the last bits of talk died down.
He raised his voice to be heard far and wide.
“Fighters of the four tribes, it’s good to see you gathered here! People will speak of this expedition in tones of reverence in the future. You will be legends in the years to come. They will remember and celebrate the day you set out to visit fire and death on those who had rained it upon you. We will take revenge for the murdered wives, husbands, parents, and children, all killed in the name of keeping the Kingdom’s territory solely for human habitation.
“But this expedition is not about conquest. We will not take and hold the towns we attack. We will destroy them, take what benefits us, and capture the civilian populations. We will break the chain of villages and towns that allows the Army to supply a battalion or a regiment if they send it out here. This is how we begin our long war. This is how we make it impossible for the Army to attack us in our mountain stronghold while we build up our strength!
“The struggle will not be easy, but our cause is just. If we comport ourselves intelligently, we will even win converts among the people we face. Look at my companion and I!” He took Mariella’s hand and raised it in the air. “We saw what the Kingdom was doing was wrong, and we chose to fight against it. There will be others like us. That will allow us to grow our numbers through persuasion, the longer the fighting goes on!”
Tybalt could feel Mariella give him a doubtful glance at the last sentence before she disciplined her face. The necromancer knew that persuading others to turn on the Kingdom wouldn’t be easy. But he wanted to set expectations now, so that the beastfolk would know they were not to behave like the Royal Army, just killing and raping wherever they struck. They would be more careful, especially about handling noncombatant women and children. He lowered his and Mariella’s hands before he continued.
“They fight for exclusion and racial dominance. We fight for a united kingdom. One land, accepting of more than one people. We fight for the survival of the four tribes, so our motivation will be stronger than theirs. And I know some of you have probably considered this. But I’ll confirm it. Our struggle has religious significance that our opponents do not yet understand. We fight for the Death God!”
The gathered men and women erupted in cheers for the first time.
Tybalt waited for it to die down before continuing.
“Lord Mudo has made us his soldiers and given us his sacred cause to fight for. With our god on our side, the numbers advantage must inevitably shift from them to us. Because the dead will always outnumber the living… and when we fight, the dead will fight alongside us.”
At his silent command, the sands shifted before the assembled beastfolk. Over a hundred zombies and skeletons, eighteen mummies, hundreds of undead man-sized scorpions, and assorted special undead rose from where they had been patiently holding their positions.
Among them, the creatures that still had the ability to speak let out a collective roar that was horrendous to hear.
It drowned out the faint sound of objections, though Tybalt saw a few faces turn surprised at the presence of the mummies.
The necromancer looked at Elder Olaf and gave him a quick nod.
The catfolk tribe’s representative in this expedition - and the only Elder present - stepped forward and raised his voice so that all around could hear him.
“Thank Lord Mudo, he sent us his High Priest to raise our honored dead and finally fulfill the prophecy of doom for our enemies! After centuries of waiting, our faith is rewarded!”
Victoria drew closer to Tybalt, sliding around to his left. She took his hand and raised it in the air, and Tybalt raised Mariella’s on the other side as well. They stood united, the fire mage who had betrayed her country, the necromancer who served as the High Priest of Death, and the first Chthonic Priestess in centuries.
Fire and death and the mystic power of the underworld, ready to pay evil unto their people’s enemies. At last, the beastfolk would come out of hiding. At last, the Death God would have his revenge.
Any objections that a few may have still had were drowned out by the thunderous sound of cheers.