“That won’t do,” Alum said as he stepped forward. “We’re his guard, and we won’t leave his side.”
The warriors behind him, including Weylin and the other Testifiers, all nodded and grunted in affirmation.
“That shouldn’t be a problem, then,” I said coolly, looking at my ‘honor guard.’ “Because you’re not here for me anyway, then.”
“I do not understand,” the elf in front of Titania’s guards said. “Forgive me, Challenger candidate—”
“There,” I replied. A note from my mindscreen told me that my noble Profession and Path of Kings were both lending me assistance, pouring awareness into my brain “That there is the problem. I’m not a candidate. My status as Challenger is not dependent upon the Icons’ recognition, or approval, and they’ve already given it earlier, anyway. Lady Breena, the Holy Fairy, is with me. Woad Princess Merada is with me. They both vouch for me. I have already acted in defense of the Woadlands. It was the first thing I did each time I arrived on this planet. I came here to help. If your Icons continue to insult me by suggesting that I might be an imposter, then we’re done. I’ll either head back to Avalon or work here independently, which again, is something I have the right to do as the Challenger of Avalon. You’re going to have to decide right now whether you’ll let my group move out as a whole, or if you don’t trust me and can’t work with me. Because if you or your leaders don’t believe I’m who I say I am, then I’m not meeting with them. You’ll need to go tell them that.”
Another awkward pause lingered for a handful of seconds, then the lead elf nodded his head.
“Right this way, Challenger. Have your people follow us.”
Now that was satisfying, Merada said gleefully. Be a dear and keep talking to them like that. It’ll help me say ‘I told ye so’ more often.
As you wish, my lady, I replied as everyone broke into a run.
The guards worked some strange kind of magic, and we began to travel quicker. The foliage in front of us bent, moving out of our way. It was just subtle enough to where, if I hadn’t been looking, I wouldn’t have thought we were doing anything different but traveling down a normal path.
Icon power, Merada explained. It helps their servants move back to them, or to their places of power.
Like what the Hoarfolk used to escape me? I asked suddenly, sensing a connection.
Mayhap, Merada replied. Theirs works much faster, though. And it only returns them to their palaces.
That explanation helped me understand my enemies just a bit better. I was still thinking of a way to exploit the issue when we arrived into a large, beautiful clearing that frankly looked just like every one of the other meadows I had come across since I left Earth. I was starting to think of them all as just eco-friendly conference rooms, but as I walked in I saw four figures I hadn’t seen since my very first Challenge long ago.
They were all massive, magnificent creatures, with the smallest of them still roughly my height. The largest was the Stag Lord, the antlered, mail-clad Icon lord of war and patron of many Woadkin tribes. Next to him was the largest of the female Icons, Mother Glade, an eight-foot-tall woman in a green gown with flowers sprouting out of her auburn hair. She was the patron Icon of plant life as well as most of the elven tribes. To her right was the Lady Titania, the silver-clad Icon of all fairies in the Woadlands and also the patron of magic for this world. Finally, Great Pan floated off to the side, reclining in mid-air and looking for all the world like a cross between Peter Pan and a giant, hornless satyr. I had no idea what his official portfolio was, but he seemed to be patron of just about everything the other three didn’t want.
They all regarded me with wary, cautious faces, save for Great Pan who waved and called out to me.
“Enough of that,” the Stag Lord rumbled in admonishment. Then he turned his head to look at me. “Are you the one we have been waiting for? The one we suspect to be Challenger Wes Malcolm?”
I stopped walking forward, and held up my hand for my people to do the same. The giant bronze man glowered at the sight of my entourage.
“You were supposed to bring him alone,” the Icon rumbled to the guards, then looked back at my own party. “Merada, what is the meaning of this?”
“Excuse me?” a tiny voice said from over my shoulder. “Excuse me?”
Breena flew forward, her pink glow brightening to an intense level. Orange light began to mix in with it. “Honored Stag Lord,” she said with an edge in her voice. “Is there a reason you are speaking so brazenly disrespectful to the Challenger of Avalon, and to the Steward’s local Satellite?”
“Took the words right out of me mouth, little dear,” the fiery huntress next to me said. “Do me a favor and never change.”
The massive man’s eyes widened at the sight of my bonded sprite.
“Lady Breena, of Avalon. It is truly you,” the Stag Lord answered, in a far more respectful tone.
“The men and women with me are part of my Challenger retinue,” I answered. “I brought them with me to lend aid to the Woadlands. But it sounds like you are still deciding whether or not to accept my help.”
The Challenger’s Path of Kings is engaging, my mindscreen said. The Challenger’s Role of Lord is also engaging.
I was going to need both of those powers to help me argue with demigods. We were off to a bad start and I knew it, but if I let them order me around then they’d just use me to make the same mistakes they had been making before. Fortunately, though, I wasn’t the only person worried about the way things were going. Lady Titania fluttered her wings as she glided forward, giving me a small curtsy as she did so.
“Welcome, travelers,” she said in a musical voice as everyone began to take in the woad tattoos on my Gaelguard, especially Mother Glade and the Stag Lord. “And please excuse our wary attitude. Our world has been in need of the Challenger for some time, and we have had to deal with many a false savior over the past few decades. Know that I recognize you, Challenger Wes Malcolm, as the man who has now rescued my children on two occasions. Please accept my thanks.”
“Your gratitude is appreciated and accepted,” I answered. “Now that you have affirmed my identity, perhaps we could begin discussing how to save the Woadlands.”
“We can,” the Stag Lord rumbled stubbornly. “If you can explain where you have been, while people from your world have been ravaging our own.”
Lady Titania sent the Stag Lord an admonishing look, but the giant Icon did not back down from his aggressive stance. So I matched it.
“Where have I been?” I asked with a raised voice as I walked forward, matching his gaze. I had battled and slain Raw-Maw less than a month ago. I was done being intimidated by possibly divine beings that were nowhere near as omniscient or omnipotent as they looked. “Where have I been?” I repeated, still raising my voice and walking forward. “Screaming and bleeding,” I growled, “but thank you for asking. You see, Avalon was invaded first. Long before the corrupted Earthborn and their allies struck your world. I battled the first team to come in. I battled the beings that brought them there. And I battled them alone, save for the Steward’s help. What has been fifty years for your people has been months of capture and torture for myself. I have broken free, freed the rest of the Malus Order’s captives, driven off their forces, destroyed their strongholds and access to that world, and restored some semblance of order back to Avalon. That’s what I’ve been doing. But where are my manners?” I said, lowering my voice. “How have you all been doing these days? Getting enough sleep and exercise, I hope?”
“Have a care, Challenger,” the Stag Lord growled at me, as the other three Icons looked at me with shocked faces. “The problems now plaguing our world come at least in part from your own. And probably through the same means you came here.”
“No, they did not, honored Icon,” I said, addressing his point while doing my best not to turn this into a bigger shouting match than it already was. “The Steward of Avalon is not the only being that is able t
o contact my world in any matter but her Calls. Our enemies came here with another’s aid. I do not know exactly how.” I chose not to mention the specific name of the being in question because I had no idea if the local Icons even knew what an Umbra was, and I didn’t want to start a panic if they did. “As to your people dealing with bad Earthborn now, tell me just how many centuries you have had where someone from Earth showed up to fix all of your problems, and then left without taking a reward of any kind, except for a tiny fraction of the power he or she had earned on their own. You have been getting the very best of Earth for an untold period of time.” The heat entered my voice again, good intentions notwithstanding. “Yet when an Earthborn and his Steward come to you for aid, saying a dark power has invaded Avalon itself, you send us nothing. I have still come to offer your people aid, but know that I am not the one who owes an explanation right now.”
The Stag Lord inhaled through his nostrils, but his expression softened and he did not answer me right away. Great Pan actually looked a bit guilty, slumping instead of reclining in mid-air. Mother Glade stepped forward before anyone could say anything else, putting a hand on the Stag Lord’s shoulder as she walked past him.
“Honored Challenger,” the stately Icon said as she walked forward. “Please let me apologize on my brother Icon’s behalf. Know that both he and his champions have borne the brunt of the cost in the war that has gripped our world for this last century. His anger is nearly as great as your own. Let me be the one to give you the apology you deserve. We did receive the Steward’s request for help. I promise you, Challenger Wes Malcolm, had not a literal war among Icons broken out at that very minute, we would have all answered to lend aid. Please know that it was not intentional.”
“Noted,” I answered, letting the heat drain from my voice. “But please forgive the next question: what other help did you try to send? Since the Steward came here herself, you could have sent your heroes, champions, magicians, even a small army if you wanted. Please tell me what aid you tried to offer instead.”
There was a brief, uncomfortable pause.
“The Lady of Avalon did not ask for other type of aid,” the Stag Lord said, but without any of his previous belligerence.
“Okay,” I replied thoughtfully. “But did she say that she didn’t want any other kind of aid? Did you try offering her something else, and she refused?”
Another moment of awkward silence followed my question.
“No,” Merada finally said flatly. “She didn’t. And they didn’t offer.”
“Right, then,” I said next. “Breena, Merada, I have to ask because I’m unaware of the exact agreement Stell made with the Icons of each world. Was there any agreement for mutual aid?”
“There was,” Breena said in a hurt, disappointed tone. “Avalon is to assist in any Challenge at the Trial or Tumult level, either via Satellites or by summoning a Challenger from another world. In return, in the event that Avalon is ever attacked itself, the Steward has the right to call the other worlds for aid, with the personal guarantee that the Icons would aid in any fashion possible. Avalon also has the right to occasionally request needed resources from other worlds,” Breena finished, not looking at anyone. “Though the only times Stell actually did that was to transfer a resource to another world that desperately needed it.”
“That was wrong of us,” Great Pan suddenly said. His feet touched the ground, and he looked at the other Icons, his cheerful expression now completely gone. “It’s been so long since we made that pledge that we didn’t even remember it. We just assumed Avalon would always be there. That the Steward would never need help herself.” He looked at the other three giant beings. “So when she needed help herself, we didn’t believe her. What could happen to the Steward?” He shook his head. “We thought it was some kind of joke. She came to us in the form of a young girl, barely a woman, whispering about a monster that had been hunting her from beyond the stars. Her story sounded outlandish. We didn’t believe her, and we were facing actual problems of our own. We assumed her need could not be anywhere nearly as great as our own. We decided we would deal with her small problem the moment our own issue was taken care of. But we were too late.”
“And because of that,” I answered, “her problem became too large. For all of the worlds.”
The normally mischievous Icon nodded, with a face full of guilt.
It was a convincing display. Maybe even genuine. But I couldn’t afford to be affected by it.
“Do you understand,” I said to the whole group, “why I did not agree to meet with you all by myself? Why I am offended by your so-called scrutiny, when my mindscreen already informs me of your opinions regarding my actions? You wished to retain control of the situation, and of myself, in Stell’s absence, yet you have not acted in good faith. You have not kept the agreements you made.”
“No,” the Stag Lord replied slowly, “we have not. In our fear, we have become both paranoid and arrogant. I am ashamed. I believe we are all ashamed.” His antlered head swiveled to face Breena and Merada. He stepped forward and knelt down on one need. “I, the Stag Lord, Icon of the Woadfolk tribes and Lord of War, repent of my behavior concerning the Steward of Avalon. I have not answered her call for aid. I have not given her Satellites the proper respect that they are due. I mourn and apologize for my behavior.”
Breena’s and Merada’s faces tightened, but in the end, they nodded. My throat tightened at the sight of it all. These jerks had been caught red-handed. But they hadn’t even realized what they were doing. And then, when confronted and forced to react regarding behavior they hadn’t had time to develop an opinion on, they didn’t get defensive at all. They didn’t make excuses. They didn’t claim that the rules didn’t apply to them. They didn’t even deny my accusations and insist that I was a liar with an agenda. Except for some posturing at the beginning, they accepted the fact that they had been wrong, and made no excuses for it.
They sounded just like mature, reasonable adults. Instead of the people in charge back home. I wanted to punch them for it.
“Alright, then,” I said. “Since we’re all currently acting like grown adults, can we agree to work together to save this world?”
“I do not know,” the Stag Lord sighed.
Stop twitching, I told my eyebrow. “Please explain,” I asked, using my polite voice.
“It may be too late, Challenger,” Mother Glade said quietly. “The rival Earthborn have been far too cunning.” She shook her head. “We have never had anyone who was actually willing to work to create a Tumult on a world. Their strategies took us by surprise, especially when they began to Descend, as monsters did. The speed of their growth was terrifying even by Challenger standards. They would strike us at key moments when we were on the edge of reversing the Tumults on our own, causing just enough damage for us to fail, and then use our failures to Descend even more quickly, and flee through their portals before our stronger forces could intercept them.” The Icon shook her head sadly, closing her eyes as she continued speaking. “Truth be told, Wes Malcolm, your rival Earthborn excelled at this as if they had been born, forged, and made to prevent other people from achieving their goals. They undid centuries of hard work effortlessly, and they benefited from it to a degree that even Dark Icons had trouble believing. We must face the facts, Challenger Wes Malcolm. You are up against a whole host of others that can draw on a power even greater than your own.”
I sighed.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I answered her.
“We all feel that way, noble Challenger,” Lady Titania said softly. “Truth be told, we no longer even have to worry about them. Now they only send their yeomen here to collect and organize deliveries. Even if both Tumults are ended successfully, even with the power we gain from overcoming them, this world will still not survive. The tribes were unprepared for a second winter this late into spring. New plants and wildlife will die. Especially after the damage of the Chaos Wound.”
“What are ye talk
ing about?” Merada shouted angrily, stepping forward. “Ye said we had spare stores! Ye said ye were working on a fix for the problem!”
“We did.” The fairy Icon nodded. “And in hiding the truth from you, we have wronged you again. We beg your forgiveness, Woad Princess.”
“This is ridiculous!” Breena snapped. “Stell left precautions! She strategized with you all! Surprise famines were literally right at the top of the list as a thing to provide contingencies for! There is no way you don’t have several contingencies right now!”
“Your words were once true,” Mother Glade said. “But someone must have given the Earthborn that very same list.” She shook her head again. “You must understand. Every other monster or race of monsters, even ones such as the Horde, Descend as a consequence of achieving their own harmful goals. Gibberkin and other monsters Descend by consuming sentients, but when they are full they do not seek to Descend. The Enslaving races Descend when they acquire and oppress slaves, but when there are no slaves to be had they do not seek to Descend in another fashion. But these Earthborn… they guessed at the strategies we would need for the planet itself to survive, and began undermining them all. Descending itself was their goal.”
“No it wasn’t,” I answered irritably. “They just recognized it as a fast track to power. Like I did with Rising.” All of the Icons turned to regard me curiously. “And why wouldn’t they do that? In fact, why doesn’t every monster try to do that? The benefits for that kind of strategy are absurdly obvious.”
That comment apparently made them nervous. But after a minute, the Stag Lord cleared his throat to resume speaking.
“Your observations, though… disturbing,” he said carefully, “are astute. It is clear that you would have been an ideal general to battle the fallen ones of your world. But still,” the giant antlered man sighed. “You are too late. Winter and blood have already come to the Woadlands, and they have taken too much life. We may somehow save a few of the tribes, but our decline has come.”
Woad Children (Challenger's Call Book 3) Page 43
