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UE Rewrite: B4 — 8.5. A Swampy Threat
🕑 Added 2024-09-13 21:06:34 +0000 UTCPoV:
1. Dalria (The Ri'bot Who Killed Tiffany!)
2. Jennifer (Our Scarlet Hand Schemer Is Having A Bad Night!)
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The storm raged outside, the roar of wind and rain crashing against the silken barrier that the Xaltan had erected to shield the cave entrance. Water still sloshed against the ground and walls, breaking past the first deterrent. Only the single human witch at the mouth of this branching tunnel kept the liquid out, more water surging in with each relentless gust.
The human was frantically trying to keep the enchantment intact, despite her pants and shaky frame, soaked from the initial flash flood that had struck. Dalria could feel the air hum with the strain of her spellwork. Even inside, the damp cold seeped into Dalria’s bones.
This isn’t natural. It came from nowhere, she internally snarled, glancing to her right to see more young bloods running between multiple tunnel intersections with goods in hand. Why wasn’t I included in this ritual or plan Jennifer and the Xaltan are doing? We had everything under our control, and then…this happened, and Jennifer freaked out. What is happening?!
Her chest ached—a sharp, stinging pain that throbbed. She absently brushed her fingers over the crimson mark of the Scarlet Hand, tracing its jagged edges as though trying to smooth the sensation. It didn’t help.
“Punishment…” The thought flitted through her mind before she could stop it, almost making her long tongue ball up in her throat; a creeping whisper she had no desire to listen to.
Revilla… Jennifer must have not done something right. Is that why she’s panicking and brought most of the witches back to her? No—don’t show me!
She squeezed her eyes shut, but the vision clawed its way to the forefront—shapeless flesh writhing and twisting in a mass of blood and viscera, rolling over itself again and again until a single, massive dead eye was revealed and pinned her naked soul in place.
“Convince them into the ritual or suffer amalgamation.”
Her breath hitched, and cold sweat broke out across her skin. She jerked her hand away from her chest, as if that would silence the brand’s voice, but the sensation lingered, gnawing at the edges of her sanity. It wasn’t for her, the message was for Jennifer.
In the dim light of the cave, Dalria’s gaze snapped to a Xaltan young blood running toward her from the deeper tunnels. The boy’s eyes were wide, darting nervously between the witches and the swirling storm outside. She stepped in front of him, blocking his path with a sharp, commanding tone.
“What’s happening inside? Why have all the Xaltan Elites been called back?”
The boy skidded to a halt, waving his hand in confusion. “I don’t know, Xaria. I was told to guide a guest who should be arriving soon. They need him inside immediately—a nalvean.”
“A nalvean guest?” Dalria's frown deepened. “Jennifer didn’t tell me anything about…”
The storm's ferocity seemed to lessen for a heartbeat, and then, to the shock of everyone at the open tunnel, the water stopped and the furious wind died down. The witch who had been struggling with keeping the water out of this hallway sagged in relief, her shoulders dropping as the enchantment held steady without her constant effort.
Dalria’s instincts flared. She stalked toward the entrance, her sharp gaze searching the swirling mists outside for any sign of the cause. The water that had been threatening to flood the cave now shimmered, unnaturally still, then parted.
A shadow loomed out of the fog, massive and deliberate. As it entered the downward slope of the cave, Dalria made out the shape of an unusual, metal platform—a large, floating mass that seemed to fill the mouth of the tunnel perfectly, with dark cloth draped over something bulky at its center. Symbols glowed faintly across the edges of it, etched in a language she couldn’t read but knew from only one source—the White God’s colossal fortress gates and walls.
Three nalveans stood upon the slow-moving vehicle, their regal postures contrasting starkly with the chaotic landscape that continued to rage outsides. At the head was a figure draped in fine silks, his scales shone in shades of bright green and gold, glistening under the blue flames burning on all four corners of the platform.
His expression was one of calm confidence and curiosity, his eyes tracing the contours of the cave with an appraising look, his voice aged and tinted with fascination.
“The exact same… Perfectly symmetrical and down to a mathematical genius. Truly, extraordinary creatures.”
Dalria felt the prickling sensation of being scrutinized when his gaze landed on her, lingering a moment too long to be casual as the witch watched from her kneeling position, petrified.
“Xaria Dalria, as I have been told,” the nalvean's voice was rich, a smooth baritone that carried easily across the storm-muted air. “I assume you will be the one to guide me into this…remarkable place? It is good I came when such a novel storm has broken out across your humble valley.”
There was something unsettling in his tone, as though he was sizing her up, measuring her worth, but not her physical attributes but her very soul.
Dalria straightened her back, glaring up at the nalvean without faltering. “That’s correct. I’ll take you to the Elder Chief. He’s expecting you. How should I address you.”
The Xaltan young blood opened his mouth, likely to correct her and assert his given duty, but Dalria cut him off with a sharp gesture and gave him a pointed stare. “I’ll handle it.”
“Right…”
She had to understand what was really going on because Jennifer was floundering and for some reason, this mysterious nalvean had not only answered her call, but managed to arrive in a time that should be impossible.
The nalvean’s lizard-like mouth curled into a predator’s smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Good. And you can address me as the Grand Designer. I have long awaited the opportunity to meet Elder Chief Varnak in person. It is rare to be welcomed into a thélméthra nest. I’ve only had samples sent to me by the Elder Chief…but I believe this visit will be far more enlightening now that the storm is at the gate, I suppose you could—oh?”
Dalria’s heart pounded in her chest. Her grip tightened on her spear as a low rumble shook the ground beneath her feet, the tremor accompanied by a distant, haunting horn. It blared throughout the valley, a deep, resonant note that made the nalvean’s smile falter. She’d only heard stories about it from Chief Krava’s feet as a little girl.
The horn that had only blown twice in his long life: when the thélméthra had attacked the White God and when the Avana blotted out the heavens, bringing fire on its wings to incinerate half the valley and slay the quen’talrat Silver Queen.
The Grand Designer’s narrowed eyes flicked toward the tunnel’s entrance. “What is this? The White God’s warning signal… Something only he could have faced, warning his people to leave it to him. Hmm. I do hope that isn’t meant for the enemy marching against the Xaltan at this moment. Perhaps we should move along… Interesting.”
He chortled and glanced between his hollow-eyed companions, looking totally dead to the world. “That being said, I’ve brought nothing that could match a threat on the White God’s level…”
Dalria’s gaze narrowed, her throat going dry. She’d been excluded from Jennifer’s inner circle for too long, kept on the fringes like an outsider while her clan’s fate was decided behind closed doors. If something was happening, she needed to know. Now.
She didn’t wait for the nalvean to follow her, spinning on her heel, mind racing. Something on the White God’s level? Impossible. If another threat of that magnitude is on Elinor’s side… We’re doomed.
Stepping forward into the cave, her focus locked ahead as the wind howled behind her, echoing down the tunnels like the wails of a torlim female in heat. The storm, once a ferocious assault against the Xaltan’s protective barrier, now ebbed slightly, though its presence lingered, threatening to surge once more.
The water pooled at her feet again, forcing the witch girl at the entrance to groan in renewed frustration. The human’s voice broke into a harsh, whispered incantation, trembling as she resumed her desperate attempt to hold back the flood.
Dalria didn’t spare her a glance. There was something bigger happening. She’d already devoted herself to the Scarlet Hand, so why was she shut out now?
Haven’t I proven myself by killing Elinor’s mother, allowing the Whispering Shadow to attack her? And somehow it failed. I’ll have to tell Chief Krava about that when he returns.
She moved deeper into the labyrinth, considering Jennifer’s rapid change in attitude the moment she heard a lightning strike come from the storm clouds; it wasn’t unusual during the rainy season, yet it had shaken her in a way nothing else had thus far.
Jennifer didn’t plan for this—Revilla didn’t warn us… No one somehow saw Elinor’s next move coming. But why wasn’t I brought into the counter plan?
She clenched her mouth tight, grinding her outer teeth against her skin, her fingers curling into fists as the slippery stone floor shifted underfoot. The Scarlet Hand throbbed faintly at her chest, the reminder of Revilla’s gnawing hunger in her mind.
Why does it feel like every step I take leads me further from the truth…when Revilla showed me the truth? My insignificance. That it’s pointless to fight her. How can Elinor frighten her? I don’t understand why we can’t just kill the dirt licker instead of dancing around the human! We have to cripple her, but not kill her. Why?
Ahead, the cavern widened into the main chamber. The dull flicker of torchlight illuminated the surreal sight that unfolded before her: symbols etched into the ground in intricate patterns, interwoven with materials from the jungle she only half recognized—scraps of metal, fragments of bone, and something that glimmered like cracked stardust.
However, it was the bodies that stole her paralyzed brain. Massive metallic corpses, their cold, lifeless, eight-legged forms spaced with eerie precision, surrounded by Xaltan Elites and Xaria, who stood motionless, their eyes closed, muttering in a low, rhythmic chant.
Her heart froze a beat at the sight of Chief Noklan, knelt reverently before a towering thélméthra, larger, more bulky than the rest. The creature’s black exoskeleton gleamed under the dim light, dwarfing even the shiny-skinned ri’bot that surrounded it.
The symbols etched into the stone by the overworked human women connected to every Xaltan, material, and body in a large, interconnected web, creating an unsettling aura that twisted Dalria’s stomach.
The human witches—pale, gaunt, and soaked with sweat—scrambled around the chamber, their eyes darting from their tasks to a figure standing in a corner: Jennifer.
The cult leader’s face was flushed, her brow furrowed as she barked orders between frantic glances at the complex diagrams she had sketched on animal hide. Her fingers trembled as she gestured to the scattered artifacts, pushing the human witches to complete their part of the ritual.
Dalria’s feet moved before her mind caught up. What is this? Why are they surrounding those…things? Is this a mass ritual to give them more powers from the thélméthra?
Her gaze snapped toward the outer ring of the design. There, lined up with eerie precision, were hundreds of large, black, metallic eggs. They pulsed faintly, as if alive, waiting for something—waiting for what?
“Grand Designer Jumi'kerune.” The deep voice of Elder Chief Varnak pulled her out of her stupor. She blinked, her eyes shifting to the elder as he stepped forward, but not for her. His expression was grim, his posture tense. He stared at the nalvean, hovering behind her, now fully within the chamber. “We are fortunate you could arrive on such short notice.”
Jumi'kerune smiled faintly as he descended from the platform. Water swirled beneath him, forming a solid disk that carried him gracefully across the chamber floor. His bright green scales shimmered under the torchlight, his regal posture and calm demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos around them.
“Fortunate indeed,” Jumi'kerune said, his voice smooth but laced with curiosity. His eyes flicked over the symbols, the bodies, the witches, before landing on the Elder Chief. “I see things are…dire, to say the least. The horn sounded for the third time.”
“You know the Ques’ká prophecy after the death of the White God,” the elder ri’bot mumbled, shifting his posture to stare at the giant dead creature in front of his son. “When the horn sounds for a third time, the ri’bot valley clans will be no more. We were warned it would sound, and she was right.”
Jumi’kerune adjusted his silk with a more dismissive grunt than his tone had given earlier, and Dalria saw Jennifer catch sight of them, her shoulders sagging with relief.
“Despite the Ques’ká’s inevitable strength as a species and leading power of the known world, I am doubtful of their…speculations. It isn’t hard to predict that when a threat on the White God’s level comes, disaster will follow. Now…”
He turned his gaze back to the Elder Chief with an eager grin, making a hand gesture that was for politeness within their culture. “This ritual, Chief Varnak—what exactly is its purpose? The message you sent spoke of unique magic, something capable of altering fate itself. Can such power truly cheat what is foretold by the Ques’ká? I certainly hope so because I grow weary of their preaching.”
Varnak’s gaze darkened. “We don’t have another choice, Grand Designer. You see the power that the dead human Elinor commands. We are under assault. Jennifer was the one who warned us the horn would sound soon. She was right.”
Dalria stiffened at the mention of Jennifer. The woman was now striding toward them from the far end of the chamber, her hair plastered to her face, her soaked clothing clinging to her thin frame.
There was something off about the way Jennifer moved compared to her usual controlled persona—subdued, almost defeated—yet there was that damned smile on her face, one that didn’t match the situation. A chill ran down Dalria’s spine as she approached, yet Jumi’kerune didn’t appear impressed, his tone playful yet cold.
“For someone who commands such respect from you, she certainly doesn’t give off the best impression. Look at her—soaked, ragged, unsightly.” His clasped hands at his front tightened with disapproval, which was exactly in-line with what Dalria had been told about their rule-centric and fashion obsessed culture.
“Perhaps I could offer her a more fitting appearance.” His eyes gleamed with amusement as he turned back to Varnak, ignoring her. “If this human manages to do what you promised, I will have many questions and far more resources to provide her.”
Dalria’s heart pounded in her chest. How does he know…? Her thoughts stumbled, her mind racing. How does he know about humans? I suppose they had to bait him here with something big. Is she bringing in the Nalvean Empire to fight with us, or is this more isolated and inside the shadows?
She swallowed hard, her hand moving unconsciously to the mark on her chest. The Scarlet Hand felt like it was burning into her skin, the creeping presence of Revilla scratching at the edges of her thoughts.
Jennifer’s approach slowed, that smile never leaving her face. “Grand Designer,” she greeted, her voice sweet, yet laced with something darker. “I trust your trip wasn’t too arduous, given the weather? I suppose your formidable technology and powers proved helpful in braving the storm. You arrived just in time.”
Dalria’s hand tightened around the shaft of her spear, her knuckles white. Every word from Jennifer grated against her nerves. I don’t trust her. She’s playing us all—and for what? I know I can’t fight her. I know Revilla is inevitable. Yet, I’m having doubts the longer Elinor is able to counter. Why does it feel like we’re always the ones on the run and a step behind? This was supposed to be our big victory.
Varnak’s hard eyes gestured toward the ongoing ritual. “This magic,” he began, voice low, “is our last hope. The valley clans are doomed if we fail. We do this not only for ourselves…but for our species. The third horn signifies the end, and we must do everything in our power to stop what is coming…even if it feels forbidden.”
Jumi’kerune’s lips curled into a thoughtful smile. “How very…quaint. Forbidden things tend to be the most interesting..” He chuckled softly, but his focus flicked toward Jennifer with a calculating glint. “Perhaps our dear human knows more than she lets on. Word is, you’re in a bit of a bind.”
Jennifer met his gaze evenly, but for the first time, Dalria saw a flicker of something beneath the surface—uncertainty, perhaps fear.
“I assure you, should you provide the final ingredients I need, then I can help your lord gain ground he hasn’t been able to achieve since Ke’Thra’Ma’s venture to the north.”
“Big words for such a tiny, unsightly creature,” the famous nalvean mused, his platform rising on its own to give him a better view of the ritual’s design. “I will say that whatever higher being is granting you knowledge…they certainly do have excellent taste.”
Holding out his hand to the right, he made a few complex gestures, speaking in the true nalvean language of body movement that she hadn’t learned. One of his dull-eyed companions moved to the cloth covering and took it off, revealing a glass case full of thousands of items.
“I brought a few extra things, just in case, but you only wanted the runic soul disruptor? Why?”
Jennifer’s nerves seemed to settle as he held out his palm for his assistant to extract one a black needle and hand it over; if Dalria was to guess, these nalveans no longer had their minds in-tact to do anything but act as the Grand Designer’s puppets.
The cult leader giggled, and held herself tall. “I know you’re cautious about me knowing so much about your, hmm, how should I say it… Non-sanctioned operations within your homeland. You’ve called me out already, being a follower of a higher being, as you are… I need resources, and you need influence in the southern islands… Influence I can provide. Care to follow your curiosity?” she finished, holding out her hand with a bright smile.
Jumi’kerune’s eyes narrowed, a deadly gleam in them that Dalria would have rejected on the spot, and without a doubt, the Grand Designer could easily kill all of them if he wanted. Yet, he reached down and dropped the needle in her open palm.
“What would you do if you didn’t have these humans? I’m told it is unlikely that you will keep them?”
Jennifer breathed out a hot puff of air while gesturing over to one of the lead witches, handing it to the woman with a sickly sweet grin; she hated the way human mouths twisted—it was so unnatural to her with all their teeth, unsettling.
“Rylee, we need to do this now. Use this at the—” Her vision clouded over, making Dalria’s muscles tighten; she knew the signs of Revilla’s messages. When her eyes cleared, tears fell from her eyes and she looked up at the Grand Designer as if he were her savor. “You have Jade Fire with you?”
The lizard’s frame shook with silent laughter. “A very dangerous thing to ask for within the nalvean lands, human. The fire that cannot be extinguished and that burns the very bedrock… And tell me, what will Jade Fire do for your…magic?”
Jennifer didn’t skip a beat as the unsure human witch glanced between them, waiting for her ‘empress’s’ command. “It will be our power source instead of the lives of the women. And I won’t need them for the next plan. Their work will be done… The ritual will be done immediately.”
Rylee’s shoulders slumped with relief at the promise of relief, unknowingly serving the very enemy with their blood, sweat, and tears. “That’s… I’ll get everyone ready, Empress. We can’t last much longer at our current strength. Is…Queen Tiffany returning soon?”
Jumi’kerune responded by performing another wordless gesture, and the nalvean servant gingerly opened a larger separator in the glass container, pulling out a tiny vile that was mixed with layers of what looked to be minerals of all colors, and a tiny green gemstone nestled at the bottom.
He handed it to Rylee, Jennifer gesturing for her to the center of the ritual, where Chief Noklan was still whispering his mantra. “Queen Tiffany will return soon enough… Now, place it unbroken on his lap as the main focal point and repeat the incantation I gave you. It must be precise. The chant will be easy with the flame as the fuel. All you need to do is follow Queen Tiffany’s instructions. I’m counting on you.”
“Yes, Empress!”
Dalria’s crossed arms tightened against her front as Jennifer turned to her for the first time and directed her into an empty circle in a corner, right in back of the giant metal arachnid in the center of the cavern—the one Chief Noklan sat in front of.
“You wanted action and to prove your worth, Dalria? How would you like to have the chance to kill Elinor and make your chief proud?”
“You’ll allow me to kill her?” she asked, somewhat taken aback as the call for action swelled within her breast; standing around and guarding Jennifer all the time was frustrating and gave far too many chances to allow Revilla to claw at her brain. “I can go into battle? And…what will the ritual do to me?”
She didn’t want to squirm under the cult leader’s appraising stare, but it was hard not to when Jennifer and Jumi’kerune gave her the same unsettling stare.
“Honestly, I don’t know. But Revilla has now shown me that you were to take the crowning position instead of Elder Chief Varnak. The Elder Chief has more secrets to show us before we depart, so I need you to buy as much time as…”
Jennifer paused as the young blood who was supposed to guide the Grand Designer came running into the room.
“Enemy—surrounded in ruby armor that burns like fire! It’s charging through the outer forces with an army behind him!”
“Tch.” The woman’s smile waned for a moment before turning that sickly grin on her one last time. “Well, I think it’s your time to shine and I’ll give you power that will make Chief Krava proud… You will become great.”
Dalria felt goosebumps crawl up her arms. Am…I not already great? Isn’t that why I’ve been guarding you this whole time?
She stifled a grunt as the palm print on her chest flared, an unholy whisper caressing her brain as the supple, husky voice of Revilla scarred her soul.
“Ride forth as my champion to meet Elinor’s… Show everyone the strength of the Komath. You are not a coward.”
No… I’m not. Somewhat confused by her own response, she stumbled forward a few steps before catching herself and completing the journey. Elinor’s panicked, weak face upon seeing her mother’s death resurfaced. I should have ended it then. This time, I won’t be held back.
* — * — *
Jennifer watched the weak-willed Xaria stumble off to perform her mission, unease biting at her chest as if a swarm of bed bugs were groaning at her flesh, Revilla’s message digging into her marrow.
Her gaze shifted to Jumi’kerune as he hovered beside her, the impressive nalvean picking apart her ritual with keen observational intelligence and the whispers of his benefactor breathing into his ear. Elder Chief Varnak calmly watched from beside them, knowing why he’d been selected to stay but looking uncertain if he should take them to their holy of holies—the place not even his son knew about, now open after excavating the collapsed tunnel the Avana’s rampage had collapsed.
“Are you impressed, Grand Designer?”
“By the ritual? Mmm.” He snorted and tilted his gaze toward her. “Not particularly in itself. I can see portions of my own old research in it and its consequences. Now, the thélméthra being the target is certainly of interest to me. It is too rushed in my opinion, though.”
“But,” she pressed, “it will certainly provide a temporary form of resistance and incredible threat, no?”
“…We will see how their souls adapt with the runic technology involved. I’ve only performed these types of surgeries on individuals I am very well acquainted with after years of spiritual study in their development. Your method is as crude as your appearance. And you intend to give the humans back…and alive at that? A waste of resources.”
Jennifer’s soft laughter shook her body as she watched the mind controlled witches started their ritual, the hum of potent magic making the very earth tremble around them.
“Elinor brought something back with her from the other dimension she went to… Something she shouldn’t have that sounded that horn and changed the rules of the game. We have to adapt, and she won’t be a fan of you, Jumi’kerune…”
She paused, swallowing the lump that formed in her throat while feeling Revilla’s bloody tendrils wrapped around her neck. “Elinor is a being of pure focus and willpower. If I kill her witches, then she’ll hunt me down as a priority. She’ll have to if I dispose of her citizens. And I can’t afford that attention with the creature she brought back with her… I can’t risk Elinor freeing that thing from her control to get to me. Not yet.”
“Aww. No need to be so guarded, dearie.” Jennifer’s chest tightened as cackles rang in her head, shifting between a tone of venomous honey to a cloud that offered the world. “I’m not as bad as your silly dead ball of flesh seems to think. I can be quite the fun partner, if you’ll accept my proposal.”
It was exactly as Revilla warned her; Autumn was far too wild and unpredictable. Elinor had brought something incredibly primordial and dangerous to a world with secrets she could use to upend everything, and she’d brought her swamp with her.
I’d rather not deal with a hag… I’m not stupid enough to think I could outsmart you. The question is, how did Elinor?
“Shame. Maybe you should ask her. But it’s cute seeing you sacrifice useless pawns now that they’ve served their purpose. We could be friends, you know. In any case, I think I’m done being a little storm cloud. So, you better run, run, run, little rabbit… The wolves are on their way. Good luck. I’m rooting for you. Hehehe.”
Trying to wet her parched throat, Jennifer watched as the emerald flames lit, spreading across the blood patterns. Yet, instead of the supernatural flames instantly burning them to ashes, it was channeled by the complex ritual into fuel, providing power she hadn’t expected to have and allowing for far more potent effects than she’d anticipated.
A small smile twitched at the corner of her mouth as the massive thélméthra warrior drone and the workers spread around the large cavern twitched. Turning toward the area that had previously been collapsed, she strode forward with the hag’s laughter fading into oblivion.
“We can’t stall any longer; Elinor is on her way, Varnak. Tell your son to buy us as much time as he can but leave the humans alive…even if his hunger feels like it will eat a hole through his belly. We must go to the thélméthra queen’s inner chamber. Take us there. Now.”
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