Chapter 11

Sitting around a small campfire, Farris kicked up her legs letting out a sigh. The sun was already setting behind the majestic peaks that were the Draukfer mountains.

The distant hoots of mountain Vock filled the air, with the occasional bleat of an Iran ram matching the cacophony. It was a familiar cadence, comforting in a way. Farris and her cohort were traveling along the base of the mountains for just this reason. Mountain Vock were very territorial, but usually kept to the slopes, and the Iran ram didn't attack unless provoked.

It was about as safe of a route as could be when out on an expedition, between stronghold and the city of hope. Her reverie was cut short as a ghastly wail, filled with a bottomless thirst for violence shook the forest.

"By the holy mothers grace, what was that?" Junta asked.

Farris stood, her eyes wide.

"I have no idea, but whatever it is, we don't want to draw its attention. Lana, raise you blend to mask us, Junta, help me kick dirt onto the fire," Farris ordered.

The two didn't argue, and they quickly kicked dirt onto the fire. 

A shimmering dome enshrouded the came the horses stomped and nickered, sensing the nervousness of the humans. With the fire out, Farris walked over to her mount, a dappled mare named prancer. 

She secured the mare's lead, whispering in her ear as she brushed prancers neck. 

"Sh. Shhh. It will be okay," Farris said, noting that the forest had turned a deathly quiet.. 

"It's a good thing we are not going that way," Lana said.

Junta let out a nervous laugh.

"No kidding, I would not want to find out what it is," Junta replied.

The group froze as a twig snapped off to one side, a humanoid figure stumbling out.

Quick as a whip, Luna drew an arrow, and knocked it pulling her bow taught.

Lightning crackled across Farrises fingers, and she prepared to send the monster to the unholy hells. 

"Wait, don't shoot," Came a piteous male voice.

"State your business," Farris demanded.

"I, I need help, I'm injured," the man replied his voice laybored.

"Who are you, and why are you out here alone?" Farris asked, her tone suspicious.

"My name is Landon, and I was part of a small expedition through the pass. My group was wiped out, I'm the last one left," the man said.

 voice. 

Farris frowned, still suspicious, but also unwilling to leave a stranger in need to suffer.

"The pass? That should be a few hundred miles east. Why are you all the way over here?" Farris asked.

"My boss wanted to smuggle a load of Pocky, but we lost it all in the past. Paid ten times the fee," The man said.

Farris flicked her wrist, and a hovering orb of crackling lighting formed above him, illuminating his face. Her eyes widened as she took in his horrifically mangled face. The man probably wasn't much of a looker normally, and the four jagged claw marks across his face didn't help either.

"Landen you say. You and your expedition took hell's pass?" Farris asked.

Landed nodded, his hands held non threateningly at his sides.

"There were only four of us and we ran into a hungry shadow panther," Landen said.

Farris frowned. 

"None of us have a healing emblem. However, we can offer some ointment, and some bandages," Farris said, her lighting orb winking out of existence as she dismissed it. 

"Junta see to his wounds, Luna, keep watch, no telling if the shadow panther is still out there," Farris said.

"Thank you, this means a lot, you are good folk," Landen said, sharing a furtive glance back towards the treeline.

Farris wasn't sure if the man was telling the truth or not, but he needed help. She wasn't like the heartless fiends from the Nether…

Archivuald roamed the forest during the twilight hours, sniffing the air. Somewhere along the way, he had lost Parcival's scent. 

Annoyed, he backtracked, finding a bush where a faint spec of blood had dripped into the foliage. Parcivals scent was strong here.

Archivauld then started his search again, following down the path. As before, the man's scent simply cut off near a large oak.

Letting out a growl, he started roaming in a circular searching pattern around the drop of blood. In the dark, he was relying almost completely on his nose, which seemed to be failing him now.

After what had to have been a couple hours, he ran into something strange. A camp, or what was left of one. Creeping in, his eyes bouncing around the small clearing Archivald smelled the vague scent of smoke on the air. Parcival wouldn't have been fooling enough to start a fire. Archviauld paused next to the fire pit, poking the pile of dirt at the center with a long bony finger.

The heat of the coals was rapidly fading in his presence, even so, it was still there.

For some reason, he couldn't smell the presence of anyone on the air, despite the fact someone should have been here not so long ago. Given the dirt covered coals, and the lack of scent, whoever had been here likely had a blending emblem.

He kicked the dirt over the rapidly cooling coals, swearing aloud.

If Parcival joined up with people who could hide their scent and tracks, then Archivauld was screwed. There would be no way he could find the asshole, aside from sheer luck. That rotten bastard. His inner tirade was interupted, and something moved on the treeline.

Archivauld gripped the haft of his ax tightly, standing tall as the Nightingale stepped out from cover. It bared its teeth, letting out a low, hissing growl.

"Well… Are you going to just keep following, or are we going to get this over with?" Archivauld asked, taking a menacing step forward. 

His human self would have taken a step back, but in his current form, it looked like just an oversized fox. A pervasive darkness radiating from its fur clashed with the frigid ice, neither taking ground. Archivauld thought it was going to attack, but instead, it swiveled, and started away, its tail swishing. It paused just at the tree line, looking back, as if urging him to follow.

Archivauld hesitated for a moment, before slowly following, keeping his distance from the monster. He didn't know much about nightingales but what he did know told a story of deceit, and torment.

He hadn't read anything about one actually being helpful.

Archviauld was wary, but followed nonetheless. The monster lead him from the camp, deeper into the forest, until they reached a narrow path. Archivuald cocked his head, glancing from the path back to the monster.

As if understanding his question, it sniffed the trail before sauntering down the path. Curious as to where it was going, he followed, keeping atleast twenty meters between them.

Archviauld might be willing to humor the monster, but he wasn't going to take any unnecessary risks. They followed the trail for nearly an hour, before the double tailed fox turned off, its gate changing.

Archivuald tooke the hint, creeping quietly after it as it crept into the copse of trees.

He wasn't sure where exactly it was leading him, but it didn't take long to find out. 

He matched the monster's gate in parallel, keeping his distance while also careful to always keep it in his sight. He was so focused on not losing sight of it that he almost blundered into the camp.

It was well hidden, inside a thick copse of trees, with no fire to announce its presence.

He froze, noticing his guide had done the same.

Archivauld frowned, hesitant to move. Had they seen him? It took him a few seconds before he remembered humanity's poor eyesight in the dark.

 Remembering that little detail helped him relax ever so slightly. 

A soft voice drifted to his ears. "Damn that wind is cold," a female voice.

"Must be a northerly wind. Hey Farris, you think another storm is coming?" Asked a male voice.

"How would I know that, Junta?" Farris asked.

Junta scoffed. "You and that disturbingly accurate weather sense. You always seem to know when a storm is coming," Junta replied.

Archivuald's eyes bounced around the camp, noting three distinct human shadows. There was a soft nicker, as some horses at the other side of the camp started stomping nervously.

Thankfully, the wind was blowing through the camp towards him, but even so, the horses must have sensed the danger.

Archivuald hesitated, eying the tents thoughtfully. The pervasive ice that always followed him was gathering, slowly coating the trees in ice crystals. He grumbled inwardly. Well, that was annoying. He would have preferred to linger around the camp for a while, and see if they ran into Parcival, but it appeared he was strapped for time.

Unfortunate, but these three seemed to be on their own, unless Parcival was in one of their tents. It was unlikely, given the fact that most people would be warry of of a slimy untrustworthy snake like Parcival.

He supposed he could revert to his human form and approach them to ask, but that was likely a waste of time. He couldn't smell Parcival anywhere in this mix of people and animal smells, and decided to trust his nose.

As he slowly retreated, the nightingale followed, and they paused at the dirt road.

"Well, that was a bust. He's not there," Archivuald said soft.

The monster licked its lips with a long forked tongue, the gesture revealing rows of canines. It glanced from him, back to the camp, it's pitch black orbs gleaming with hunger.

Archivauld sighed. "Not sure why you are asking, but if you decide to eat them, we are going to have a problem," It let out a soft growl that almost seemed like a complaint.

"You can't eat them because they seem like good people. I can forgive the other two you killed, but if you attack them, I will kill you," Archivuald said, holding his ax menacingly to one side.

He wasn't sure if the monstrous fox understood him or not, but it seemed to get the hint. It let out a soft growl of annoyance.

"Why are you still following me anyway?" Archivaudl asked.

It flicked its large tails, then bounded away, disappearing into the forest with startling speed. He watched it go with a sense of helplessness. What was life coming to? It had taken such a drastic turn in such a short amount of time. He shook his head, and started off down the road, his long legs making good time as he broke out into a jog.

It was a good pace, the night sky clear, and the late summer air cool.

Well, the latter might have just been his chilly disposition. He snickered internally. Just because he was currently a monster didn't mean he couldn't have a sense of humour. 

A distant hoot echoed off the nearby mountain sloop. He grinned a decidedly monstrous smile. He was in no particular hurry, might as well gather some essence along the way. Who knew, depending on how many monsters he could kill, he might be able to push his three emblems all the way to knight tier by the time he reached civilization. 

Unlikely, but the forests seemed infested by monsters with essence ripe for the taking.

He was more than a bit excited to see how powerful his current form would be at knight tier….

An enraged shriek echoed off the shale, as dozens of red eyed insects poured from their hives. They charged the interloper without any concern for their lives.

Said interloper was humanoid in frame, though monstrous in appearance, tall, and gangly with corded muscle and dagger-like claws. It's azure eyes oozed a frigid cold that froze the air itself, a that spread in every direction. 

Archivuald stood patiently with bearded ax in hand as the hoard of monsters rushed him, dozens of them, intent on ripping his flesh from his limbs. Their carapace glinted in the moonlight, which was suffocated as an orb of darkness formed above his. The darkness split, and a soul wrenching cry of agony filled the night as every monster in sight shrieked in pain, their lives reaped in moments.

Archivuald watched the carnage with calm solemnity, once again surprised at the power of the emblem. Divine curses, even at copper tier, were no joke.

It really set the tone for just how terrifying a blade cardinal would be. Cardinals were rare, but Blade Cardinals were even more so. The term Blade, or Holders as they were often referred, were those who had either a divine blessing or curse. People who reached such heights were immensely powerful, walking calamities, who were more monster than human.

And not even in the same way Archivauld was. His curse was more literal than most, actually turning him into a monster.

An ear piercing shriek cut through his reverie, as a massive insect burst from the hive. Ahh, about time! The queen, about the size of a dog with six legs, ran over its dead workers. Mandibles clacking together, it charged him with furry in it's bug like eyes. Archviauld rolled his shoulders, sidestepping the charge, lopping off two legs in one swing. 

Ichor gushed from the stumps as it toppled to one side, the monster's cries filled with pain now.

Crippled, it was unable to dodge his axe as it slammed into its bulbous abdomen. A burst of ichor followed a sickening crunch as his axe lodge into carapace and flesh.

It was a quick and gory end to Ulta ant queen and its hive, a fitting end for the aggressive critters. These things were pests at the bests of times, and a plague at the worst if their hives got too big. They could wash over the land like a tide, stripping everything bare.

This one wasn't even a hundred strong, and had been dealt with easy enough but if he left it alone it could have one day threatened one of the nearby cities.

That of course wasn't the main reason he raided the ant nest. His lips turned up into a wide toothy smile as he eyed his bountiful harvest. Two dozen copper tier stones, and a single knight tier essence stone from the queen.

Not every worker had an essence stone, but that was expected. It was a sizable reward for a few hours of work. Many rift walkers would have been green with envy if they saw his easy harvest of an otherwise difficult to deal with monster.

It wasn't like he could just run around repeating this. Ulta ant were quite rare, as they were snuffed out to the last monster whenever found.

And also, his eye of the dark god emblem took most of his reservoir to use.

Archivauld fought back the urge to dump all of his essence into the eye of the dark god, and instead, funneled it into his holy orb emblem. It took the knight essence, and most of the copper essence stones, but finally, there was a rush of power that flooded his body.

The node had finally turned from a cooper hue to somewhat opal, or what most people referred to as knight tier. The now familiar wrenching pain wracked his body as he reverted to his human form, his stretched pants threatening to fall off.

Archivauld grimaced as the stench of dozens of mutilated ants wafted to his nose. Yuck. For some reason, these kinds of smells bothered him a lot more in his human form, despite his sense of smell not being nearly as strong..

Finding a suitable, comfortable rock, he eyed his ankle and the grotesque scarring where his holy orb seared his flesh. It still ached after a week in the expanse, though it was a dull ache. More concerning was the limited flexibility of his ankle.

With a grimace, he conjured his newly evolved holy orb, the orb slightly larger and a bit deeper gold than before.

It hadn't changed much in terms of appearance, but hopefully its effect was much better. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the holy orb to the scar tissue, the orb sinking into his flesh.

There was a rush of warmth, followed by the wriggling sensation of flesh moving under his skin. He could feel the skin knitting back together underneath, and much of the pain had dissipated, but not all.

Archivauld sighed. Well, it was worth a shot. He would keep trying, but it appeared he needed an expert to properly mend the damage.

Whatever Parcival's knife had cut couldn't be fixed with a low tier emblem. Thankfully, it wasn't a debilitating injury. He could still move and hunt; it was just painful to do so. 

He had followed the cart path for an entire week now, all the while hoping it was leading to a city. For all he knew, it could be leading away, the next city, hundreds of miles from his location. He sighed. If only he had secured the map.

Parcival must have grabbed it before their fight, and his subsequent escape. Hopefully, he would run into other travelers and could ask them.

It wasn't until five days later that he finally had success. It was late morning, and he was walking in parallel to the road, tired from a night's worth of hunting. The thunder of hooves filled the air, the sound making him duck for cover. 

He looked out from cover, watching the trail curiously as a quartet of people rode by. Two women, and two men, making good pace down the trail.

Three were complete strangers while the forth, even with bandages covering half of his face was very familiar. Archivauld's heart skipped a beat as he spotted Parcival riding with the group, in the same direction he was.

Anger simmered in his chest, his eyes emitted a deathly cold as he watched the four ride away. The urge to burst from cover and run the man down was nearly overwhelming. He couldn't for obvious reasons. There was no way he could outrun a horse, at least not with an injured leg. Even if he was in full health, could he take on four armed people at once.

He frowned. How did Parcival know those people? Perhaps they were just helping out a stranger in need. Archivuald could see the snake playing the sympathy card. But how long until the mans messed up.

He nodded to himself. Not all was lost, Parcival was a man of particular taste, and Archivuald doubted he could hold those urges for long in the presence of two women, especially ones so easy on the eyes.

Archivuald broke out into a light jog, the horses already out of sight. He might not have the speed of a horse, but he had incredible endurance in his Nether form. His human form was going to be dog tired after pushing so hard, no doubt he would sleep like the dead, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

The day drone on, as he weaved between the trees, bounding like a deer through the foliage. His tall, lythe frame was surprisingly agile in the forest, his clawed toes offering solid purchase on most surfaces..

His backpack was a constant burden, his ankle stinging with each step, but the thought of gutting Parcival urged him on. Even with the constant pervasive cold emanating from his body, he had to pause frequently to cool off.

As it turned out, running for long stints in the heat was quite rough in this form. Moving quickly meant the air was that of summer, and he was sweating profusely in the scorching sun.

It appeared that his current form was not meant for hot climates. A creature of the depths of the Nether said to be a frozen hellscape, perhaps.

He shook aside the idol thought as he ran leapt over a fallen tree, cresting a hill. Archivauld slid to a stop, nearly falling on his face as his claws found purchase quicker than expected.

He had been hoping to catch up to the quartet by nightfall, and the sun was setting, but there appeared to be a problem. A city loomed large on the side of the mountains, with high walls facing the forest, and steep cliffs at its back.

It was enormous, a feat of ingenuity, and craftsmanship. Archivauld swore. Well, that was just perfect. No wonder those four had been riding so quickly they were trying to reach the city before nightfall. 

So much for his stroke of luck. There had to be at least a half million people making their homes in that city. How could he possibly track Parcival down there? Equally as concerning, would the guards at the gate be looking for him?

The order had a long reach, there might already be posters of his and the other's likenesses that the guards could use to oust him. Just freaking fantastic! What was he going to do now?