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'I gave you ten minutes, how were you still not done?!'
"It's hard to go when you know someone's right in the next room, okay?!"
'There are no rooms! This is a swamp!'
"It's a metaphor!"
'Oh, I didn't realize you had enough buildings out here to have metaphors about rooms. Impressive.'
"You've formed a really firm impression based on like three days in the back country, we're literally going to a city now."
'Oh, this is back country? Relative to the rest of it, I mean? I couldn't tell the difference.'
"You've been here for a day. Do you just never learn patience in the Demon City? Or to actually look at things before you make a decision?"
'... Your sky is illegal,' Mirna grumbled. She got the distinct impression of a sulk.
Aindriu leapt down from the trees, finally past the swamp and onto solid earth. Two victories today. It was a shame she'd had to finish off the Prince, though. He'd been fun to fight, but if he wouldn't leave her alone she'd have been run down after that fight, if he'd survived.
She was still soaking wet from the fight. At least the mud had mostly come off, but it'd be a real treat to get a chance to wash off in the Scathceil, she felt all grubby and really wanted some shoes. She'd had them, but she'd passed them off to one of the refugees, whose feet couldn't take walking on caltrops as a minor tickle.
On top of which, it was going to be a really long walk back through the forest to rendezvous with the caravan. She didn't really feel like walking all that distance, especially laden down with the things she'd taken from the Prince's body - his armour wouldn't fit her but it'd fit someone, and the weapons would add to the group's stockpile and were all of excellent quality, she'd be keeping his blue-glass Yaganese sword as a replacement for Finnian's and passing the beaten-up blade to someone else. (She'd need to get another crossbow, too, she much preferred them to plain bows - his was excellent so it should be a reasonable trade for someone) So she strode through the forest, looking for a clearing.
It wasn't too long before she found a large enough open space between the trees, so she nodded to herself and brushed a hand across the forest floor, burning away the grass and moss in a fire only barely greener than they had been.
She pressed the shaft of her spear into the earth and ash, and began writing. Normally she'd need reagants to guide the essence flow, a hollow bone pen, chemically treated feathers and the like, but she could feel it, now, and guide the essence along the right paths with nothing more than her will.
Behind her eyes, Mirna stirred. 'That's a sicklebird beckoning... you know the Art of Husbandry?'
"Just the basics," Aindriu muttered, finishing the outer circle, and starting to sketch the sigils within. "Not as good as my parents, though. My druid training never really went anywhere." Her father had fully mastered the art, himself. Aindriu had mostly learned it by osmosis and a personal affinity for animals over the past two years. Her mother wasn't very trained in husbandry, but was better in other thaumaturgic fields.
'Are you, perhaps... actually pretty smart?' There was a long pause, before Mirna added '... for a barbarian?' as if he'd forgotten to clarify.
"Used to think so, as a kid." She'd used to think she could dazzle the world. That she could take her place among all the people she read about in books and do the really cool things they'd done. She'd had a difficult time settling on which really cool things to do, but it turned out she couldn't do any of them. Childhood dreams didn't do well against reality, and remembering that she'd actually believed such things were possible for her just made where she'd ended up, treading water in her father's house with no meaningful future in sight, look even starker than it normally did. "If I were, I'd know more than the basics."
Aindriu finished sketching out the featherlike sigil in the center of the circle, and stood astride it. The Sign of Maeve still worked for beckoning all sorts of toothbirds - the high goddess of Pretannia was a toothbird goddess, who in ancient days had wedded the High Kings of Pretannia. They had ridden her in war, and she had ridden them in peace.
She'd not been seen herself in seven hundred years, though all the gods of Pretannia claimed to be acting in her name. Maeve's long silence was a topic of substantial debate among druids. Some believed she had stepped back, for lack of unity among Pretannians, and would return only when a High King was settled on. Or that they had lost her favour, and she had turned her face away from them.
Aindriu was among those who suspected she'd just died in the Balorian Crusade, and the gods beneath her were running the show now and invoking her name when it was useful. She'd never been very reverent, probably because the tribal god of the Talinin, Tareann, was a morose, frequently-drunk old man who wasn't good for much but stories of the past. They were good stories, though.
Aindriu held her arms out to the sides to direct the essence outward and chirped, lightly. Not an easy sound for a human to make, but sicklebirds didn't understand Foresttongue, and wouldn't come to it when called. "In the name of the Silent Queen, I call upon one among her tribe, to carry me for a time."
"In the name of the Silent Queen, I call you."
"In the name of the Silent Queen, answer my call."
"In the name of the Silent Queen, come to me."
She swallowed and braced her throat for a caw, and then lowered her hands, settling in to wait. The call had gone out, so now she just needed to wait for a clawrider to come in response to it. Just a short ride, give them some treats to take back to their pack when they were done. Clawriders were pretty social animals and didn't like leaving their friends, so she couldn't keep it.
"... Speaking of beckoning, Mirna, you said you knew demon beckoning?" He'd offered to guide her through an agatae summoning.
'Well enough, yes.'
"Would you be able to teach me how to beckon a sesselja?"
'I could, theoretically. What do you want it for? My duty is to assist you with your duties, which includes keeping you alive. It does not include treating every random mortal to pass your way, and I'm fairly sure this is about that woman.'
Aindriu sighed. "Yes." No point hiding it. "So... no?"
'Not for free. This isn't part of my duties, it's a personal favour. I want one in return.'
"What sort of favour?"
'... Give me some time to decide.'
"... all right." Hopefully the demon didn't want anything too monstrous. If her father couldn't do anything, this was the only way she was getting Fionola healed.
Aindriu looked up at a rustling in the bushes ahead...
... that wasn't a bird. She braced into a fighting position, spear at the ready, as three sicklebird beastmen slipped out of the underbrush, led by a beautiful pink-haired woman with four wings. Druids, in white, and probably from Malessa - most of Maeve and her court's descendants still lived around the eleven hills.
"Who goes there?" she called out. Hopefully not hostile. But given how this week had been going...
Especially considering they were fully-empowered godbloods - they all reminded her of fluttering feathers, and the pink-haired leader was strong, and felt a little different, more... floaty, almost translucent. She wasn't human. She had been, there were traces left, but... not anymore.
The woman smiled, and she and the men flanking her bent down on one knee. "I am Ceianhwyfar of the Wings of Penance, My Lady."
Aindriu blinked. "... uh..."
Ceianhwyfar's smile broadened. "The Creators have sent us to serve you, My Lady." The completely unreasonable worlds chimed with truth.
Aindriu froze. What?
'Ah, the local Yozi cult. Your support has arrived,' Mirna said.
"Wait, but... huh?" They were descendants of the gods. The Fomorians were enemies of the gods. That was a... strange sort of Fomorian cult...
"The world is wrong, My Lady," Ceian noted. "We look forward to you correcting it, and will assist you in any way necessary."
"Er... please stop kneeling, you're going to get dirt all over yourselves..." Aindriu brought her spear back up, looking around awkwardly.
The three beastmen nodded, rising to their feet, and the woman spoke again. "Those you saved are safe and secure. Two of us are escorting them towards Caer Crannuisce." Pinged as true. Good. That was a relief. She'd instinctively be concerned about Fomorian cultists but she technically was one now and it seemed to be going all right so far. "Would you like to rendezvous with them, or did you have another objective in mind, My Lady?
Aindriu nodded. "Yeah... I'm going north to Dramasine. I'm accompanying them as long as they're going my way. Once I'm there I'll clear up unfinished business, and then report in. To the... our bosses." She really had to tell her family she was going somewhere - not in detail for obvious reasons - before just disappearing off to Hell. They'd worry.
"Very well. We will escort you," Ceian said, looking around. "What is your current situation? Do you require assistance?"
"No, I'm clear." The Prince was dead, his Order was stuck on the other side of a swamp. "We do need to keep moving, but there's no immediate danger." Aindriu stepped back to her ritual circle. "I'll call up some more clawriders for the three of you." She wasn't sure exactly how allied she felt she was with them at this point, but they'd been polite enough and it'd be pretty rude to ride while they had to walk.
"Ah, that is convenient, thank you."
Aindriu shook her head as she restarted the ritual. It'd been a lot easier not to think about the deal she'd made when allies weren't turning up... what had driven children of the gods into the arms of their enemies?
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