D.J. Rintoul
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V4-Epilogue: The Scout
🕑 Added 2024-11-18 19:56:52 +0000 UTCA pair of claws parted a thin layer of branches, and a gleaming set of yellow-green eyes stared out of the jungle foliage.
A different, forest biome unfolded before Wind Whisper’s eyes, but the scout knew he could not safely step into it. He felt an intense pressure just ahead of him, harsh enough to make his fur stand on end.
Truly, I can get no closer than this?
The scout knew instinctively just where to stop moving to fall short of entering the aura he sensed before him. That sensitivity was part of why he was a scout. His mate and fellow scout, Forest Shadow, had been slightly less sensitive, and it had resulted in her death during the journey here.
The two had attempted to navigate around the edges of a Storm Elemental’s territory, hoping the monster would be less attentive to its borders than more intelligent neighboring Rulers. When the Elemental turned its attention to the two Pantherfolk, Wind Whisper noticed its incoming attack a fraction of a second before Forest Shadow did. He managed to throw himself to the ground and avoid the spear of lightning the monster threw.
Forest Shadow was not so lucky. From Wind Whisper’s vantage point, his mate tried to duck, but she moved a fraction of a second too late. The bolt struck, and then there was a blackened stump where her head had been.
Wind Whisper had stayed tight against the ground for a few minutes afterward. By the time he rose from his semi-crouched position, his mate’s body was already growing cool—everywhere below the neck, which remained scorching hot. The rain came down hard around them in the aftermath of the attack, falling around Wind Whisper’s snout like tears. He cradled her body for a moment, briefly heedless of the danger from the Elemental, but no further blow came.
Despite his lapse in caution Wind Whisper survived the encounter nearly unscathed. The easily distracted Storm Elemental had moved onto some other target after hurling its deadly bolts, and he heard its violence miles away as he held Forest Shadow.
A part of him wished, only for a moment, that the Storm Elemental had killed him too.
The remainder of Wind Whisper’s journey was uneventful.
The scars on his heart were still raw, but he did not stop to mourn his loss. He could not afford to lose the time. He only slowed down long enough to bury Forest Shadow before he continued on his critical mission.
Now he was here.
This damned aura covers such a wide area! Has no one tried to stop this arrogant human from expanding yet?
The Florida Panther Queen had fought battle after battle in her path of domination. No one had given her anything except those who followed her—whose loyalty she had earned with proof of violent, exceptional power sufficient to establish her supremacy.
All Races were in eternal competition in this new world, so only the strong could be allowed to lead.
By the same logic, all rivals to the Florida Panther Queen must be carefully monitored as best the Pantherfolk could manage, with the eventual goal of elimination. This monitoring was the purpose of Wind Whisper’s mission.
Of all the rivals to his Ruler that the Pantherfolk had heard of since their Race awakened, the Fisher King seemed like one of the most dangerous. The fact that this human’s reputation had spread to a place where the Pantherfolk could hear about him from one of their subjugated humans was already a warning sign. The unchecked spread of his aura—and its violent, intense quality—was a confirmation.
Wind Whisper steadied his position and tightened his grip around the branches in front of him. His paw pads were sweating from being so close to the hostile aura, uninvited and unwelcome.
He reassured himself that where he presently stood, the human who owned the territory ahead could not possibly detect him, even if this human’s aura was particularly sensitive to intrusions.
The scout had an additional Stealth Skill that meant the only way the scout could be detected by someone with normal senses was if someone stared at him for several seconds directly.
So he was safe here.
Though the watcher’s position was relatively far away from the place he was meant to be spying on, he was confident that he could gather useful intelligence from there. His vision was extremely sharp. Gradually, as his eyes adjusted to the light, the scout got a clear picture of what was happening inside the Fisher King’s turf.
First, he observed that a crowd had gathered in the depth of the territory.
Then he recognized that the crowd was actually a large army. Hundreds or perhaps thousands of figures clearly ready for battle, and they all appeared to turn to face in the same direction as Wind Whisper observed them.
Is the Ruler there?
There was silence for a few seconds, and Wind Whisper took careful account of the moving silhouettes. He saw a surprisingly diverse body of forces.
Humans, of course, but varied other Races as well. Short, green-skinned humanoid figures who bristled with shiny makeshift armor and carried long spears or short swords. Squirrel people, bat people, massive alligators, and wolves rounded out the force.
The scout swallowed. His throat was suddenly uncomfortably dry.
That is quite a few enemies to subdue. He has faced challengers after all, and he subjugated them…
This was not unlike how the Queen preferred to deal with her enemies. This Fisher King would present a challenge.
Then he heard the sound of a single voice talking. It took Wind Whisper only a fraction of a second to recognize what was going on.
The Ruler was broadcasting a speech throughout his territory—addressing his troops, mainly. Even at the very edge of the Fisher King’s realm, the scout could hear everything as if he stood right beside the speaker.
So, he is sending the bulk of his army out to invade neighboring territories, and they are going all the way to the coastline…
The speech continued for a short time, and then things within the territory began to move. Wind Whisper worked to roughly count the enemy, then quickly gave up. There were too many of them, and he was too far away for accuracy.
The scout began transmitting a message to his Queen instead.
The Ruler that Your Majesty wished me to observe is lowering his guard, he sent. He is ordering his strongest forces to depart on an aggressive campaign and leaving only a light force to defend the core of his territory. If Your Majesty wishes to invade, there will never be a better moment…
As the words left his mind, Wind Whisper sensed movement in the corner of his vision.
I looked over there before, he thought. There were no signs of life. Just some old, ruined human dwelling…
But there was someone leaving that old building now.
He turned his head to get a better look at the figure, and he saw an old, brown-skinned woman moving away from the old house and back toward the center of the territory. She wore robes that identified her as a Mage or Mage variant to his mind.
How did I miss her? he wondered. Why wasn’t she outside, watching the King’s speech with the other residents of his territory?
These little questions set his hair on end and made Wind Whisper nervous.
As he watched the old woman, she stopped walking and stood stock-still for a moment.
Go on back by your Ruler’s side, lady…
As he thought that, the woman turned and looked right in his direction.
His paw pads broke out in a sweat again, and he resisted the urge to wipe them on his coat. He wanted to keep movement to a minimum just then.
No, no, she cannot possibly see me, he tried to tell himself.
As if to confirm that thought, the woman squinted and wrinkled her nose, then scratched the back of her head, as if she was trying to see something that was just out of view.
Wind Whisper held his breath, focused harder on his Skill, and silently prayed.
He also turned his head very slightly, to ensure that he was not staring at the woman. It was possible that she had a Skill that allowed her to detect when someone was looking directly at her. It was harder to track her with just peripheral vision, but his peripheral sight was still better than a human’s. He had a good general idea of where the old woman was as she started moving again.
And then he lost track of her completely.
Oh shit!
He turned his head, Stealth forgotten for a moment, and tried to reestablish an awareness of the woman’s position.
But it was as if she had simply stepped behind a tree and vanished. There was no trace of her left.
Did she use some form of magic to disappear? Wind Whisper was under the impression that Spatial Magic was extremely rare. None of the Pantherfolk had that Skill or any Skills adjacent to it, or they would not be sending scouts through dangerous occupied territories en route to enemy strongholds; they would be transporting them instantly.
But given the diversity of the Fisher King’s following, it was entirely plausible that he would have access to rarer forms of magic than were the norm.
If she felt the need to use magic to get further away from here, when she was walking before, it’s probably because she noticed an enemy presence and went to warn the Ruler. Damn it! Did I fail the mission already? Forest Shadow died for nothing, then!
Reluctantly, Wind Whisper composed another message to the Florida Panther Queen.
Your Majesty, if I stop responding, please assume that I have been compromised and killed. I will not allow myself to be taken alive if I am capable of resistance, but it is possible that my cover has already been broken.
He sent it, then continued sweeping his eyes across the forest, looking for the old woman.
Recommendation, Whisper? The Queen replied instantly. She wanted to know what her scout thought the Pantherfolk should do based on what he had seen thus far.
The Fisher King is extremely dangerous, he began. Given that he is sending his army away, I recommend—
The soil beneath and all around Wind Whisper exploded with violent force as something burst out of the ground, sending bits of soil and plant life flying. He felt a sharp pain in his intestines as something stabbed directly through his stomach muscles and ripped his insides apart.
“Urk!” Wind Whisper let out a pained groan as he temporarily lost the focus required for both communication and the Skill keeping him hidden.
The dust began to settle around him, and he tried to contain his agony and re-focus on hiding himself. His eyes took in that a dozen skeletons had lunged out of the soil. One had stabbed a bony spear shaft through him, while the others had stabbed at random spots around him.
“So that’s where you were?” A female voice with a hint of amusement in its tone carried from within the forest, around the place where Wind Whisper had lost track of the old woman. Despite being impaled and in severe pain, he managed to raise his head to look up.
The female Mage stepped out from behind a tree and began walking towards him.
Wind Whisper tried to focus on a Skill he knew that would cause his body to explode, but the skeleton that had him on its bony shaft seemed to recognize that the scout was doing something its master would not like. It twisted the spear viciously in his guts so that he lost his focus again. His eyes clenched shut involuntarily as his body writhed in pain.
It felt like the skeleton’s blade traveled even deeper into his body, perhaps pierced his heart, but that sensation must have been an illusion, because he retained his consciousness.
After a few seconds, the pain faded.
With his mind clearer, the scout realized his senses detected movement near him and opened his eyes to see the old woman had reached him. She now stood just outside the Fisher King’s territory, right beside Wind Whisper.
For a moment, the two just stared at each other.
A dozen questions swirled through his muddled mind. At the forefront was, Why did you bother closing the distance? Your minions could kill me without you putting yourself in danger. This was puzzling, because from what he knew of Mages, they were even weaker physically than squishy, Stealth-oriented individuals like himself. Perhaps he could survive this if he just managed to tear out the woman’s throat…
“You have a question for me?” the woman asked. “If you will answer a question or two of mine, I will gladly answer yours.” She spoke softly, with quiet civility, as if Wind Whisper was not slowly bleeding out, impaled on her skeleton’s weapon.
Their eyes met, and Whisper made an instant decision. He lacked the clarity to ask the questions that would actually help him right now, but he decided he would try to play her game nevertheless. He could always lie, and any information he gathered would help the Queen, if he could only recover his focus enough to send her a last message or two before he died.
Finally, he opened his muzzle and said, “H-how did you detect me?” Every syllable was painful, but the answer would hopefully tell him something about what the old woman could do. She had to be one of the Fisher King’s deadliest soldiers.
“Someone close to you died recently, did they not?” she replied. “You don’t have to answer that, it isn’t my question. Those who work with the dead have the ability to sense death, as a tangible thing. It leaves a residue that practically glows for us. The residue was thin this time, but unmistakable. My guess is that this person who died recently was close to you, so even though they should have moved on to the afterlife, a part of them stuck with you. Some portion of their soul either loved or hated you so much that they did not fully move on. How tragic. This friend or family member or lover probably would have died to protect you, but instead…” Her voice trailed off.
Whisper coughed up a thin trickle of blood before he could speak again.
“So my Stealth was not broken…” He could not tell why he fixated on this, why he was not doing his job and informing the Florida Panther Queen immediately of this interaction. But he took some comfort in the old woman’s words, and in these moments before death, that seemed more important.
“My turn,” she said. “Why are you here, Panther Scout?”
She must have Identified me.
“I am here to deliver a message to the Fisher King,” he lied, suddenly inspired. “Will you take me to him? He will want to hear—”
“Do you really think I would let you get anywhere near my son?” the old woman snarled. All civility had suddenly vanished. “I can tell that you are lying to me. Attempt to deceive me again, and this conversation will become much less polite. I have ways of making you talk. I had hoped not to resort to them, but I have to protect my family above all else.”
“Fuck you,” Wind Whisper said, fully prepared for those to be his last words.
He focused on preparing his final message to the Panther Queen.
They have a Necromancer. She has me prisoner. Assume that everything is compromised.
As he tried to send the message, he did not feel the familiar sensation of the telepathic connection. The surprise must have shown on his face, because the Necromancer smiled slightly—almost sadly.
“What did you do?” he asked.
“Did you think I would allow you to continue assisting your leader against us?” the old woman asked.
“How did you stop me from sending a message?” Whisper asked.
“The truth is, you are already dead,” she replied. As she spoke, her eyes glowed slightly. Then the world around them seemed to glow and turn translucent, and the pain in his body vanished entirely. “Your soul is mine. You serve us now.”
“No,” he growled.
“Yes,” she said, her voice factual rather than insistent, as though she was reporting on the weather. “You will assist me willingly or unwillingly. The choice of whether to be a willing servant is up to you.”
“You monster,” Whisper said. That was why his pain had faded into the background despite how the skeleton had seemed to brutalize him further.
If only I was not so weak… Why did I become a scout…?
“If you say so,” the old woman replied indifferently. “I will do what I have to do.”
Whisper felt a force tugging at his being, and he recognized it as the old woman’s power. It was irresistibly strong, but he tried to fight it nonetheless.
“I will never help you,” he said defiantly.
She simply shook her head. “We’ll see. Out of respect for your courage, I will do you one favor.” Her eyes glowed again, and then Wind Whisper felt a warm presence.
“You died,” he heard Forest Shadow’s mournful voice pronounce.
“You are here,” he replied, surprised.
“The old woman pulled me back from the other side. She said I was still attached to you,” said Forest Shadow.
“Now we are both trapped,” said Wind Whisper. “I did not want this.”
“Is it so terrible?” asked Forest Shadow.
Wind Whisper allowed himself to bask in the warmth of his lover’s soul before he answered.
“No,” he replied. “Not so terrible after all.”
The scout barely noticed as the Necromancer tugged at his soul again, and the intangible part of himself floated away with her.
