The Court of Souls? - Volume 1 Page 13

  We encountered it ten minutes ago on our hunting trip and it looks like the thing has more stamina than me. Normally Ishaan kills the game which I can't handle, but this time he refused and said that it is time for me to handle my own problems.

  Normally I should have awoken my abilities around the age of fifteen. But despite me being in more than enough dangerous situations that didn't happen. Ishaan is contributing it to the fact that my situation is special.

  Finally the spirit appears above the hillslope. It wastes no time and throws itself down the slope, focusing all its attention on me. I don't twitch a single muscle and wait for it to enter my attack range.

  When it is in range I step forward and thrust my spear into its chest. My movement is perfect, exactly like Ishaan taught me.

  But the monster is unperturbed by the wound. Its hungry eyes are locked on me as it slides down the shaft of my spear, closing its claws around me.

  I bring up my right hand and my left leg to stop both attacks, earning deep claw marks. Crying out I twist the spear to inflict as much pain as possible on the creature. It only enrages the thing even more.

  Then things get really ugly as the wendigo decides to use me as a punching bag. Not only is it dealing blows like a mountain gorilla, the claws also tear deep wounds as it tries to shred me to pieces.

  I could swear that it is grinning. Is it playing with me? I abandon my spear and jump away to create distance and throw a spell at it. But the torrent of flames I conjure up teaches me only one thing; the wendigo heals faster than I can burn it!

  “Hahaha. What are you doing? I said you should run. Although relatively weak, wendigos are the worst spirits to deal with. They are almost unkillable for someone of your calibre. They can tear through an entire clan if there is no higher immortal to stop them. And did I mention that they hunt in packs? I can already see its friends approaching.”

  “Shut up!” I draw my dagger and throw myself at the thing, kicking my spear even deeper into its chest. Then I hack with the dagger at its throat, ignoring the wounds which are torn by the claws.

  My way of fighting may seem crazy, but as a shade my healing capacity isn't much weaker than the wendigo's. I just have to avoid blows which would kill me outright and ignore the pain.

  Which is easier said than done, but among the skills of my past lives are some mental techniques to deal with pain and the perception of time.

  The wendigo's strength surpasses mine nonetheless and I slowly start losing the fight. Its power reserves seem bottomless and when its jaw unhinges and snaps shut around my left forearm I start realizing that this isn't a fight I can win.

  I try to pull at the wendigo's soul, but it feels like the cursed thing is stuck. There must be something wrong. Why does this creature even have a soul?

  And then I hear the distant howls.

  “Ishaaaaan!” I scream, but there is no answer. Did he abandon me?

  I twist my dagger inside the monster's throat, but the wound closes around the blade as I carve it. I feel so weak. What a mess. My vision blurs and for a short moment I pass out. But the pain and the monster which is gnawing at my arm don't allow me the blissful darkness.

  More in defiance than anything else I try to pry the monster's soul out of its mortal shell. In the end I feel it loosening a little, but I am much too weak by now.

  Why didn't I keep running as Ishaan told me to?

  Because Angrod doesn't run. The godking of Chimera doesn't bow!

  Something inside my mind shifts and suddenly I feel unbelievable power coursing through my body. My free hand lets go of the dagger and pries the monster's jaw open. Then my shredded hand is free and I throw a bone crushing punch into the thing's face.

  It is catapulted away like a toy and the other me gets to his feet. Shadows enclose my body and I feel my wounds heal within seconds.

  The wendigo gets back on all fours and howls as five more of his kind appear above the hillslope.

  I want to run.

  But the me who is Angrod just smiles and gestures at the hillslope. A small blue spark shoots forth and hits the wendigo in the centre of the formation. It bursts apart like a fruit which was struck by a bullet. There is no way it can regenerate from that.

  Then the entire pack closes in on me and I dive into the shadows to emerge as something else. I still feel humanoid, but my body is different. I feel it.

  There is no time to think as the first creature reaches me. I grab its throat and tear it out. Digging my fingers into the flesh feels easy, like working with clay. Along with its throat, I feel its soul being freed and a new surge of power rushes through me as I take it.

  I launch myself at the next opponent and wrap my hand in mana to bisect him right down the middle, gaining yet another soul and more power. I feel like I could go on forever as long as the enemies keep dying around me.

  Finally the remaining three wendigos realize that the tables have turned on them. They turn and run. A mad laugh escapes the other me as he raises his hand and forms a spell-formation. An orb of red energies appears in my hand and flies forth, turning into a maelstrom of destruction. The last three opponents are caught up inside it and simply disintegrate.

  I create a shell of mana around me to defend myself against a possible explosion. But when nothing happens and the maelstrom simply keeps travelling forward, I relax. For a moment I fear that I may have unleashed something problematic. What if that thing keeps growing and simply travels onwards without ever stopping? But then an unbelievable explosion takes me off my feet and I am thrown on my back.

  My ears ring for entirely too long. After a while I decide to test the waters and slowly move my arms and legs. When nothing hurts I sit up and find myself at the edge of a huge crater. The destruction is complete and the crater is at least fifty metres in diameter.

  A moment later Ishaan appears next to me. “Well, looks like there was a god hiding inside you after all. Though was it necessary to perform such an overkill on them? I didn't lie when I said that wendigos are small fry.”

  “You! Where have you been?” I scream. He abandoned me!

  “Calm down, I was watching you. Figured that you would never awaken if I don't push you to the edge. The wendigos were just right. They like to play with their food and don't kill too fast. Even if the foe is weak.” Ishaan turns to look down at me. “And you seem to be fine. Aren't you a little too old for making snow angels?”

  I look around and realize with embarrassment what I created by trying out my arms and legs. So I hurry to get up and ignore the snippy comment.

  “So, you remembered who you are? Must have been something significant if you even discovered your shape changing ability. Is that how you looked like in a past life?” Ishaan gestures at the ground and a human sized mirror of ice rises from it.

  For a moment I've trouble answering him. The image which is reflected in the mirror is simply too shocking. It's not like I am a completely new person. My face is still the same, but my hair is now as black as night and there are horns coming out of my head! Two slightly curved, black horns which run backwards around my head! I reach up to feel their smooth surface.

  But what's even more shocking are my eyes. They look like they are made out of glass and are just empty, black globes with slit, golden irises. I step closer and find a sea of golden stars hovering inside my pupils.

  “I am not sure. I think the one whom I remembered called himself Angrod, the godking of Chimera. Whatever that was,” I mumble.

  “A king? You had your own pantheon? Never heard of you. But who knows what happened in the multiverse since I last reincarnated. No way to tell the time between here and there. We have no reference points. Hmmm...” Ishaan grumbles and tilts his head. Then he suddenly throws his fist at me and I catch it by reflex. The movement came completely naturally to me.

  And then I realize that he moved faster than I've ever seen someone move. Yet, for a short moment, it looked as if he wasn't moving at all.

  “Goo
d. Seems like we can start your training for real now.” A grin steals itself onto his face.

  I am not sure, but I don't think I've ever seen him this happy before. Then his words start getting through to me. “Training? Can't I go back and teach Inanimatum a lesson? Haven't you seen that red maelstrom? I'll appear above their city and wipe them out!” I won't even give them a chance! It's time for payback!

  Ishaan tilts his head. “I certainly won't tell you what to do and how to deal with Inanimatum. But you've just remembered a part of who you really are. And let me say that arrogance won't help you in this world. There is always someone who is stronger and meaner. You have to get a grip on your shape changing ability and learn to control your powers as a god. The maelstrom was powerful, but it also moved very slowly. Your enemies won't let themselves get hit once they realize that it is a serious danger.”

  He raises his hand and a green orb appears in it. “And if common sense doesn't get through to you, do you remember about our agreement? You don't go until I allow it.”

  My eyes wander to Legna's soul orb and I swallow down my feelings. It isn't hard when he puts it like that. He may be right, and even if he isn't I would never risk Legna by fighting him.

  Inanimatum taught me how imprisonment feels.

  The sewers showed me what death is.

  The city taught me how hunger feels.

  The slavers taught me how to be cruel.

  My friends taught me that nothing is forever.

  The facility showed me not to trust anyone.

  The swamp taught me to rely on myself.

  The tundra showed me how to be cold.

  Ishaan taught me how to be strong. When he is done with me, some of them will wish that they never had taught me at all!

  “Let's start now.”

  18. ~Split wood.~

  “Dryads, like all nymphs, were supernaturally long-lived and tied to their homes, but some were a step beyond most nymphs. These were the hamadryads who were an integral part of their trees, such that if the tree died, the hamadryad associated with it died as well. For these reasons, dryads and the Greek gods punished any mortals who harmed trees without first propitiating the tree-nymphs.”

  The Journey to the Afterlife

  Dedessia, the Sea of Souls, Clan: Carissimi

  Elona, 24 years old

  I beat my wings and hurry to follow the tracks. Someone entered our territory, again. Those guys from Parle are really persistent. Ever since their first attack on us we have to deal with regular attacks from their side. I don't understand their motivation.

  So far they never gained anything from it and the loss of life is inconceivable. At least I think so. A little water and resources can't be worth the loss of people. We lost at least five percent of our clan's population to their raids.

  But maybe Parle is thinking along a different direction. Maybe they think that every lost raider is one mouth less to feed.

  Grandma is of the opinion that they are just testing our defences to conduct resource raids. Losing a few mids is nothing to them. I admit that her point of view has logic, but I am not convinced.

  When they launched that first big attack at us eight years ago, they mobilized twelve higher immortals to counter our defenders. I don't want to think about it, but there must be a traitor in our midst. How else should they have known that half of our best fighters aren't at home? Doreen thinks that they must have seen her leave. She can't believe that anyone would be stupid enough to betray Carissimi to Parle. Parle is known to be ruthless and to practice slavery.

  I don't think so.

  Since that first attack they never again mobilized higher immortals against us. So either they lost their insider during the first raid, or they still have him.

  In case one, their continued attacks make absolutely no sense. They haven't managed to steal much more than what they'd need to invest to conduct these raids in the first place.

  In case two, they are just trying to give us a false sense of security.

  We are immortals. Time doesn't matter much to us. They must be preparing for a big strike while testing out the waters.

  That's why I am always opting for the scouting missions since I am allowed to leave Yggdrasil. My biggest hope is to catch someone of high enough rank to get a glimpse at their plans. Once I have proof, Doreen has to believe me.

  At least I don't have to endure the doubtful looks of my clan members out here. Since my ascension, a lot of things have happened. Not only did my powers and my knowledge grow, but also my isolation from the other clan members. The only ones who don't care about my strength are my immediate family members. The others say that it is dangerous to have a higher immortal without memories around.

  They are afraid that I could lose it like I did eight years ago.

  Maybe it wouldn't be so infuriating if Quianna wouldn't bring so many boys to our doorstep. She tried more than once to hook me up with someone, but that never worked out. Either they were total douche-bags who thought of me as some kind of sex idol, or they were afraid of me. I can tell if someone is trying to be nice, but tries not to touch me at the same time. It's not like I have to drain everyone to the point of mummification.

  I suck on them just a little bit.

  If they really want a lasting relationship with me, they should be ready to accept my nature. Sometimes it is hard to keep my control and Mom isn't a help either. Yesterday she tried to lock me into a room with 'food', as she called him. She doesn't get that those guys simply don't flip my switch. I want someone I can talk to and interact with. Not some poor puppy which poses no challenge.

  As I follow the tracks in the sand they suddenly end and I decide to land.

  But even a close up inspection doesn't yield any result. They just stop. Either their owner teleported out or took off to the skies. But if he was capable of doing that, why didn't he use that option all along? I thought I was hunting some low who was scouting us.

  I search the horizon, but there is not even one soul in sight. Then I play with my hair while thinking the situation over. This region is a combination of sand dunes and rock formations. When I first encountered the tracks, I found them crossing from one rock formation to the next. That was logical. Nobody would want to walk through sand if he could also walk among the rocky regions. It's harder and the sand leaves tracks which can be seen from the air.

  I had to circle each rocky region several times to find the tracks again. Once I even had to land and follow the tracks on foot. My prey passed through a big field of rocks and the slight shifting of pebbles couldn't be followed from the air. I wasted a full hour while doing so.

  So moving across sand as little as possible is only beneficial for a scout. I look around. The next big rock formation is a few kilometres to the east. If my prey had a reason to walk for a while, then why not move along the rocks? If you are resting from flying and just want to move in a general direction you could also move over those.

  Unless you want your tracks to be found and followed. Unless you want to occupy the enemy scouts with hunting ghosts. And I already feared that we have a traitor among us. If that person has access to our scouting schedule they know that aside from me, three other higher immortals are on duty.

  So what do you do to keep them out for as long as possible? You give them something to track and waste time on!

  I growl and take off, flying in a straight line towards Yggdrasil. I've been had! We never should have left Yggdrasil and searched for the traitor instead!

  Since the raid, our clan has just twenty higher immortals. We lost a guy named Harlem to them. And just a few months ago Franis fell victim to a spirit.

  Pulling three defenders away from your target may seem insignificant. But not if those three represent ten percent of the enemy's fighting power. How many immortals does Parle have? Doreen wasn't sure when we had our last conference, but they have certainly more than us. Twenty-five? Thirty? If every immortal of theirs occupies one of ours, and they have just
five immortals more than us, those five could cause unbelievable damage if unchecked!

  I fly faster, forcing my mana into my wings and giving it my all. After a few minutes I curse the fact that I lack the means to teleport. My stepping technique is very neat, but it lacks range and is exhausting over long distances. The same limitation goes with my knowledge about teleportation. I only can teleport to targets within my line of sight. And I am a little afraid of what could happen if the teleportation matrix fails. The results of such an accident could be nasty. Why weren't my other selves more versatile than this? The pathways which I remember from my time as Celes were so convenient.

  When I finally see a column of smoke rising from Yggdrasil's position my heart skips a few beats. Am I already too late? I throw all caution to the wind and raise my hands to form the teleportation matrix, setting the column of smoke as my target.

  I close my eyes and try to remember one of my past selves. Cyla was a techno-mage and at least she knew how to do this. But no matter how much training and effort I put into this, it feels like the ability of someone else.

  There is no point in dwelling on what might and might not be. I cast the spell.

  And appear right above Yggdrasil. With horror I watch the sorry state of my home. One of the enormous branches which served me as an aerial obstacle course is broken. Large parts of the tree are burned and ashen, but at least someone put out the flames.

  I can't find a single part of my home which doesn't look like a battlefield. Flapping my wings, I descent towards my home which is embedded in the trunk's side.

  On my way down I watch the people on the walkways and suspension bridges caring for the wounded and carrying away the dead. There are many corpses who wear the black armour of Parle among them.

  Others try to salvage something useful from the rubble, but it seems like a depressing task. Then my eyes wander to the big, ghastly wound in the tree's side.