Amdirlain dropped into the grass before Tickles, watching the muscles clenching in her jawline. “If it’s sitting on you so heavily, maybe it’s not the best role for you.”

“They hate everything living, don’t they?” asked Tickles, and Amdirlain nodded at the haunted look in her gaze.

“Indeed, they do. They’re in pain, and they think feeding on life will stop it. But it’s a lie,” Amdirlain replied. “There are other ways you can help rather than dealing with the undead.”

Tickles tilted her head as she gave Amdirlain a concerned look. “I thought you were going to leave it with us. Won’t one less slow things down?”

“Cemna is actually a limited issue compared to the Dao. I’ve got a bigger group working on that one, I’ll continue helping with Cemna. There are other tasks that I need help with besides fighting. You’d be on a world which mostly shouldn’t involve fighting. Or you could remain in the Domain helping the Petitioners.”

“We’re used to being together though,” protested Tickles.

A calm nod was enough to stop any further protest, and Amdirlain just rested a hand on her forearm. “I know, but it’s still your call what you get involved with. I’m worried about how Cemna unsettled you. It can’t be fun confronting all these trapped Souls so soon after getting out of the Maze.”

“Trapped Souls? I thought they were undead!” Tickles exclaimed, her fun-loving spark still submerged.

Rubbing a hand across her face, Amdirlain nodded. “Lots of undead are animated remains, but something trapped the Souls in most of those I’ve seen. But for example, there are children I’d like someone to keep an eye on in case they need help. They’ve had a horrific time, and speaking to adults would be hard for them,” replied Amdirlain. “They’re not alone in needing someone to look out for them, but their pain hurts me to think about. You’d need to take on a different shape to avoid attracting attention.”

“Some Vargr Drangijaz told us about doing that sort of work. Being in disguise and staying unnoticed,” nodded Tickles.

“Does your Profile show a Power called Change Self, or Shapeshift?” enquired Amdirlain, noting the sudden interest in Tickles’ expression.

“Not those but Polymorph Self is in the Powers section,” Tickles said. Suddenly in place of a Hound Archon, sat a young lady appearing maybe in her early twenties, with bright blue eyes and ash-blond hair. Her form possessed a generous mouth, already curving in a smile as Amdirlain reached up; when her fingertips touch the side of Tickles’ sharp chin, Tickles turned her head to let Amdirlain see her in profile.

“You’ve created a nicely proportioned face. You’d stand out among the Norse though, they have solid jawlines,” observed Amdirlain, and couldn’t resist giving the tip of her straight nose a boop. “That said, to me, your appearance is very normal, you created quite a pretty face.”

There was a blur and a true bitza puppy sat in her place, her clothing turning into a loose rope collar. A floppy ear covered her snout as she tilted her head, and Tickles peeked around it at Amdirlain. Her coat was a mix of gold and brown—as if mud splotched—and paws five sizes too big waggled about in the air as she rolled around.

“Goof,” Amdirlain muttered, and her fingers danced lightly along Tickles’ side.

The yipping barks she got in response continued coming closer to human laughter, before eventually Tickles reverted to human form, clasping her hands protectively to her sides she huffed. “That tickles.”

Pleased with her laughter’s return, Amdirlain gave her a warm smile. “Well, you seem very ticklish. Is that how you got your name?”

“It was the fish’s fault,” declared Tickles seriously. “That, I remember.”

“The fish’s fault?” questioned Amdirlain.

Tickles shrugged absently as her expression grew thoughtful. “My spot had a small pond with tiny fish in it. They’d nibble at whatever was on my fingers when I put my hands in the water. Their little mouths against my skin always made me laugh. I was just having fun getting them to feed, when Sage and Hook found me. The first thing Sage said to me was ‘what’s so funny?’. I told him the fish were giving me tickles. Hook replied with something like, ‘well Tickles, come meet the others’.”

“Plus, you laugh a lot,” added Amdirlain.

“There are lots of things to laugh about,” Tickles retorted blithely and gave Amdirlain a broad smile. “So, lots of things tickle my fancy.”

“Have a think about what I said, you can let Sage, Ebusuku, or me know your preference,” Amdirlain said.

“You like giving people choices, don’t you?” observed Tickles. “The other Celestials talk about their duty assignments, but you let us know what options there are.”

“As long as no innocent is being hurt, your choices are your own to make. Helping in ways others might consider minor is still helping, and that’s the most important thing. When we’re helping someone, we’re making things better,” replied Amdirlain. “Even I have to remind myself that I can’t help everyone, but I can keep helping the next person.”

“Thank you,” Tickles said and leaned forward with her arms out.

Leaning into her hug, Amdirlain gave her a gentle squeeze in return and patted her back. “Anytime.“

* * *

Limbo writhed around them, fighting against the platform’s form as Amdirlain opened the Gate to Cemna. Ebusuku moved ahead of the others, and when the last was through Amdirlain followed. The sun’s position behind them showed they’d gauged morning correctly, and long shadows stretched away from the group.

“Limbo’s Chaos will rip apart the residual energy in moments,” Ebusuku said, and as Amdirlain closed the Gate, she motioned along the coast. “I’ll scry on the harbours in that direction.”

Amdirlain nodded in confirmation and reached out with Clairsentience to observe the harbours they’d been clearing the other way. Tickles bumped against Berry giving her a cheeky smile and Amdirlain was glad to see her grimness had lifted. She wasn’t the only one more cheerful—the news that they were freeing Souls had seen all the Archons returning in better spirits than they’d finished on the other day.

As each harbour was cleared of surprises, she shared the image of the cleared space with its team until only Ebusuku and Farhad remained.

“My enchanted items aren’t giving any sense of strain in sustaining me on this planet,” commented Farhad. His gaze had taken in the surrounding desolation as calmly as she’d seen him observing the beauty of the valley. “Though I feel a touch weighed down, it’s not enough to slow me, so I’ll be fine crossing canyons.”

“I’ll let you pair delve deeper in,” confirmed Amdirlain. “I’ll follow the Negative Mana’s edge where the clouds are thickening; see if there are more Liches supporting the field’s expansion. Hopefully, someone finds something resembling a map.”

Returning Farhad’s nod, Amdirlain blurred into a pebble and reappeared on the ledge outside the Temple’s entrance. The clouds hadn’t lessened but there were no replacement troops, and Amdirlain got in more practice with Clairsentience. Clusters of a dozen or more Cadaver Lords were common enough though she didn’t spot any as heavily armoured as the Lich’s troops.

Setting concealments around her, she shifted forms and reappeared on a terrace across the canyon. Glancing upwards at the terraced buildings, she burst into motion, pushing hard with Ki Movement. Racing along the terrace’s edge, she leapt upwards, angling to run along a building front. Landing with her feet slanted against the facade, Amdirlain snorted in amusement but didn’t pause in speeding across the stonework.

Bouncing between the buildings’ outcroppings, she sped from one level to the next, pushing her physical skills by detouring rather than resorting to Flight or Teleport. With nothing reacting, Amdirlain didn’t stop even when she finally reached the cliff top. Picking a road, she raced for the next canyon.

Now I just need some pressure plates and pendulum blades swinging from the ceilings.

Ki Movement and Agile makes parkour easy; I’ll have to find some really challenging terrain.

Oh, I should have Malnar make trap runs to practice with.

* * *

Three canyons later and an opening on the plateau’s surface presented another temple area. Tapping a finger against the hard crystal dome, Amdirlain was curious about how it had remained unscratched for centuries. The dome was some ten metres across and reached just above knee height at its peak. Though there was plenty of dirt staining its surface, the dome wasn’t showing any damage.

[Laen:

Laen, or True Glass, possesses an incredibly strong crystalline structure that readily holds enchantments. Natural laen is black or smoky but can become clear or tinted any colour with the right treatments.

]

Directly beneath the dome was a plinth with Negative Mana clouds thickening the darkness. The central plinth wasn’t for the former Sun Power but was an altar to a Power representing agriculture. The chamber was again a hexagonal shape, but Analysis didn’t show any repeated dedications. Curious what Jaixar would make of it, Inventory absorbed the dome, and she teleported past the thick clouds of Mana.

Tempted to push her Resistance she instead moved forward through the large corridor checking for the undead. She wasn’t disappointed; while there was no Charnal Nightmare, she found a battalion of troops arrayed around another Lich.

A Yin-ladened Ki Strike tore it apart as Energy Drain ripped the enchantments on its Soul apart. Abyssal Energy seared flesh and Amdirlain switched on Angelic Aura for an instant to push it aside. The moment her attack broke her own concealments the battalion surged towards her. This time it was Amdirlain’s turn to dance among the pikes.

Blades that slipped past Psychoportation’s deflections, she steered aside via strikes along their hafts. Even keeping to a mostly Elven form didn’t restrict the strange aspects her body could take on. Strikes from bladed tendrils severed weapons, the pike heads clattering to the ground. Rows of troops moved in closer, their curved kukri slashing at her even as those with pikes still stabbed between them.

Wraiths reached from blades when their numbers could force contact and sipped health away. Riposte strikes aimed at blades released them. Their hungry presence drew her next attack, shattering the Wraiths’ incorporeal forms. Stolen health reclaimed Amdirlain moved onto the next. When dozens tried to grapple her to the ground, Teleport took her out of reach and her practice continued. Shattered hands released Kukri’s one by one to clatter on the ground. Only when she’d disarmed the last did she bring them down. Her targeted strikes smashed through joints, twisted armour until they were completely vulnerable—then she ended them. Those pike blades left intact were dealt with quickly.

[Combat Summary:

Cadaver Lord x400

Wraiths x400

Lich x1

Total Experience gained: 1,735,826

Fallen: +350,949

Scion: +350,949

Sora Master: +350,949

Psion: +350,949

Warrior Monk: +350,949

Resistance: Abyssal (2->8)

Death Strike [M](15->16)

Agile [S](31->32)

Danger Sense [S](3->4)

Perception [M](44->45)

Psychoportation [J](40) -> [Ad](8)

Silent Storm [S](72->73)

]

No Erotic Dance progress from this lot, so Ebusuku was watching my arse.

The last of them dealt with, Amdirlain returned to the altars and claimed the Souls of the High Priests used to desecrate them. Amdirlain meditated in the Mana haze that thickened as it fed from her until at last the System gave her a single begrudging increase.

Teleport placed her near the cliff top, in the sunlight again and Amdirlain set a wall of Life Mana in place. While her health recovered, she scried on the teams, pushing Clairsentience to take in their progress and then check further out. Observing Sage taking down a lone Cadaver Lord, his finishing strike driving his hammer downwards, she gave herself a mental shake for the obvious oversight.

Adjusting her focus again—this time straight up—let her look from the atmosphere’s edge. Though she couldn’t adjust her vision to make out more details, she saw the landmass laid out below her. A long way to the north were snow-capped mountains and a large continent beyond, but ahead lay a long stretch of dark ground. The far edge curved in a massive crescent around a gleaming island, spearing skywards in its middle. The south wasn’t a solid landmass but a large archipelago, easily longer than Indonesia. Unconnected to a landmass in the south, the arc appeared to be a shattered sickle larger than the Gulf of Mexico.

“If all the canyons have living spaces this is going to take a while,” Amdirlain muttered as she took in her personal surroundings. “It’s a world, of course it’s going to take time.”

Health rising upwards still, Amdirlain focused for a moment and sent a message to Torm. “Hi, I hope everything is going well with the Erakkö. I’d like to hear about their culture. The ones I rescued seemed good folks, but that doesn’t mean they all are. Look out for yourself. I hope they are accepting of Týr, not sure I’d be happy if they have an unjust society.”

Only when fully healed did Amdirlain set off to look for the next site.

* * *

Torm’s PoV - Southern Pass Castle

The flicker of armour surged in my direction. A twitch pulls me from a chatkcha’s path and a breeze fans my face as it goes whirling past. Claws lash towards eyes and I’m out of time. A welcome voice whispers in my ear and regretfully, I only catch part of her message. Stabbing upwards, frost bursts from Winter’s Heart as the blade decapitates the Thri-Kreen. The soldier deflects its suddenly relaxing claws away as the frost-coated body falls.

The opening in my position invites an attack from my foe, and it lunges forward with its mandibles wide. The blades glisten with its venom; I push forward and headbutt its chest. Hardened shell buckles from the blow as we impact. A high trill is the only sound it manages in time before my knee strike shatters its leg and drives it off the wall. The toppling foe drops on top of those climbing up, and the armoured figures speeding towards me slow.

I know I’m as strange to them as they are to me, even if they’re received word, but there isn’t time for introductions.

It’s a momentary respite but lets me channel a Blessing from my Liege, a mass healing washes over those around me. Though the soldier who my last opponent had struck down is unbreathing.

Before the wall, the pass looks like a green and brown tide is washing in. Thousands of foes fill it, racing up the steep rock of the pass faster than a sprinting horse. The mounds of bodies are already before the wall, providing the next foes with a leg up; bodies piling up around the strange ladder poles they’ve gotten into place. A greyish-blue stone castle and the troops are all that hold the living tide from overrunning the land behind us.

So many foes, I don’t take the time to be selective, but without knowing those around me better, I target the Power away from the wall. Holy Smite lights up the late afternoon with a Celestial radiance and swarming Thri-Kreen break under its effects. The fact it injures them at all proves at least some of the Erakkö’s accounts. If they’d been as they once were the Power wouldn’t have hurt them. A race of spread-out tribes having become as ravaging locusts, devouring all before them. The push of fresh bodies racing over the fallen in front doesn’t speak of the caring tribal nature they once possessed for their kin.

A click of claw against stone brings my focus close. The Thri-Kreen’s head appearing above the battlements’ edge inviting a reply. My foot strikes between the mandibles, and its head sails away; the body falling onto those below. Most of the re-enforcements that had been charging towards the gap I’m holding spread out.

The power granted me recovers quickly from Holy Smite’s use, and I let another take my place. Kneeling by the fallen soldier, I can see her confused Soul, the Thri-Kreen’s blade having opened her throat so quickly. I would wish to know more about her if the Soul had gone on before I take this action. Yet with her Soul so close at hand, I can see her loyal nature. Touching her armour is enough to form a connection. A brief link with the Soul and I can feel her acceptance of my offer, I know more than enough to be glad I made it.

White light fills her wounds, even as the flesh heals, her gaze refocuses, and she stammers. “I know you. I’m alive?”

“Yes, you do. You are alive again, but you’ll need time to recover properly. Go down and rest.”

Stretcher-bearers take one look at her blood-soaked armour and don’t object to hauling her away. I can’t bring all their fallen back, but I can save a couple more this day. Still, much better that none of them die than to bring them back. I need to buy them a break from the force that’s hit. Teleport set me above the approaching foes. Resuming my full form causes gaps to form on my shirt’s back, and my wings snap into existence.

My fall stopped, I let a Fire Storm fill the pass from side to side. Torrents of flame sear through shell and flesh. It forces a gap among those approaching, and I intentionally drop on a foe still racing forward below me. I’m still surprised by my own weight; it doesn’t stand a chance. The close to five hundred kilograms of my full size crushes it into the ground.

The others don’t even look back at the noise and standing in the mess left of my target I cast again. A barrier of golden blades stretches a few hundred metres across the pass. Those that don’t stop in time lose limbs, or at the least gain gaping wounds as they cross through them. Their allies die all around them and others don’t even turn aside, rather racing on for the wall.

What’s happened to them? Have they degenerated into animals?

There isn’t time for answers now, but they need to be found. The flames haven’t faded, but still more Thri-Kreen are trying to push through its inferno, adding to the ashes. I could do with Whisper and her trumpet right now; the shock wave it can unleash would crush them in their shells.

Teleporting close to the rearmost ranks, those ahead are so close I could kick them, but they don’t turn on me. The word from my lips is pleasant to me and those serving Justice. Yet Rebuke has them grasping at their heads and dropping lifeless to the ground. I look for their Souls, and yet there is nothing. What’s happened to the sapient species they once were? Yet they still bring siege ladders. How is that possible if they’re not aware enough to have Souls?

By the time the first Fire Storm dies away, those clawing up the wall are shattered and broken. When the horde charges across the charred ground I unleash another and turn the pass into a charnel house. Their flesh cooking in their shells makes the air smell like roasting chestnuts, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to eat them again.

It’s a butchery that makes a day at Azex’s fishing hole look like a minor brawl. It’s a long night of fighting before the last of the swarm is dead.

Moving among the injured after the battle—healing those I can restore—brings only a slight feeling of balance after the night of carnage without rest. The thought of the Dao seizing the castle’s inhabitants makes my stomach twist; with their speed, the Thri-Kreen would have overrun so many places.

The Erakkö soldiers don’t stop me as I move along helping heal their wounded. I make use of Blessings from Týr, along with Universal Life and various gifts of a Planetar to ease the healers’ burden wherever I can.

There is an official waiting for me before I’m even close to done. I recognise the rank insignia from conversations with Vāriyāka over the last weeks. When at last I stop I nod politely to General Angarhela, who had waited patiently for the wounded to be tended. The rank I know isn’t quite that, but Tongues translates it that way, it’s also unclear if he commands the Castle or if there is someone else. The head healer had asked me to gift my name, and I’d shared it gladly.

They have an odd hierarchy, very formal, rigid in some ways, yet flexible in others; aside from the ruler, no one is born to their rank. Yet even the King—or Queen as the previous two—is confirmed to the position on merit from among those eligible. There are no slaves nor thralls, but they’ve been in a state of war for hundreds of years.

“Guardian Torm, I thank you for your name-gift that Healer Dokodela shared,” said Angarhela, the moment I straightened—having needed to duck through the outer door.

“General Angarhela, I likewise thank you for your name-gift that Healer Dokodela shared.”

His gaze keeps darting beyond my shoulders, even though the wings aren’t out. His gauntleted hands interlace across his torso in their sign of respect. “I had a dispatch providing word of your description and purpose, but I’d not expected to meet you. Certainly not under these circumstances. Would you join me and my staff to share a midday meal?”

I’m careful to return his gesture of respect before replying. “I’d be honoured, though I’m curious to know what the dispatch said was my purpose. My journey’s purpose was for learning about your people, and I wasn’t aware they had sent any out.”

“We were told you spread the word of the great spirit Týr, who you serve as a Guardian,” Angarhela replied, his arms falling by his sides.

I shrug and hope I’m correct that it means roughly the same thing to them. “That’s not exactly my purpose here. I’ve been checking to make sure your people are safe. I’ve also been speaking about Lady Amdirlain, who rescued many soldiers that were taken from your northeast outpost. Without her help and permission, Lord Týr wouldn’t have been able to send me here to aid you.”

“Another great spirit?” asks Angarhela, a tic starting on his jawline

Is the tic from anger, nerves, or something else? Their body language is so unfamiliar I’ve not yet learnt their cues. “Great spirit isn’t really the term, and they’ve no need of blood to give aid the way Spirit Talkers request. Belief in their precepts and adherence to their ways is what they value.”

Angarhela’s tic eases, and he nods slowly. “Perhaps you could share these precepts and rites during the meal?”

“I’d be honoured to do so. Have I kept anyone waiting?” I ask carefully.

“You’ve been tending to the soldiers far faster than any I have seen. All would have waited until you finished helping. Hopefully, I’ve not interrupted you on the way to assist another.”

“I’ve done all I can for now; I’ll need to gather my energy for a time before I can render further aid.”

I keep pace alongside the General as he heads within the castle. I can but hope I’ll do justice to both Amdirlain and Týr in my explanations; It’s just as well Ebusuku sent me so many of Amdirlain’s symbols to share. Though given how few I have left now, I’ll have to ask Svenja to request yet another crate—the thousand Ebusuku sent last time has gone so fast.