"What does it do?"
"What type of relic is it?"
Lady Pelica closed her eyes, and Karathra felt a subtle pulse of power as the enchanter probed the relic’s nature. After a mont, her eyes snapped open, and sothing that might have been alarm flickered across her features.
"This is called Bloodcaller’s Horn," she said slowly. "Exalted rank. When blown, it summons all creatures within range that have tasted blood."
"All creatures?" Hrothgar rumbled. "That sounds... dangerous."
"Extrely and the horn doesn’t discriminate. It calls everything that it could reach, predators, scavengers, even intelligent beings if they’ve killed recently. In an Abyssal land, where everything has tasted blood..." Lady Pelica shook her head. "Using this would be insane."
"Are we going to keep it?" Ashclaw asked. But all the masters were thinking the sa thing, that they did not want to be called by so horn.
"Because insane isn’t the sa as useless." Karathra reached out and took the horn from Lady Pelica’s hands. The enchanter let it go without resistance. "In the right situation, against the right enemy, sothing like this could turn the tide."
She tucked the horn into her belt, making a ntal note to handle it very, very carefully.
They continued the harvesting.
Under Lady Pelica’s direction, the masters cut away sections of the Hive Fiend that were deed valuable. The chitin that had armored so of the larger creatures was collected and bundled and according to Lady Pelica, it could be processed into armor that was both light and remarkably durable.
Certain organs were carefully extracted and preserved in containers Brakthar produced from his relic, these would fetch high prices from alchemists who specialized in monster materials.
The work was grueso, exhausting, and deeply unpleasant.
But it was also necessary. The Stronghide banner was poor, resource-starved, dependent on what they could scavenge after all.
This haul would change that, at least temporarily. Besides, according to the Chief, they would be needing an insane amount of resources when they leave the Revolutionary base behind.
As they worked, Brakthar found himself beside Lady Pelica. The enchanter was supervising the extraction of sothing she called "essence glands", a small, glowing nodules that apparently contained concentrated power.
"Can I ask you sothing?" Brakthar said quietly.
"You just did."
"Sothing else, then."
Lady Pelica glanced at him, a hint of amusent in her eyes. "Go ahead."
"In the battle, when things were desperate, you finally showed what you could do. You moved faster than I’ve ever seen anyone move. You used powers that..." He shook his head. "You’ve been hiding. The whole ti we’ve been traveling together, you’ve been hiding your true strength."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Lady Pelica was silent for a long mont, her hands continuing to work even as her mind clearly wandered elsewhere. When she spoke, her voice was thoughtful.
"Because strength is a resource, Brakthar. And resources should be spent wisely. You should know this." She extracted another gland and placed it carefully in a container. "There wasn’t any need to show powers."
"And now?"
"Now the situation has changed." Lady Pelica straightened, eting Brakthar’s eyes directly. "Your chief fell into the Weeping Canyon."
"What are you saying?"
"I’m saying that your chief is either going to beco sothing extraordinary, or he’s going to die trying. Either way, I want to be there to see it." Lady Pelica smiled, and for the first ti, it seed genuine rather than calculated. "I want to see what the god behind him would do."
"And if the Chief dies? If the Stronghide falls?"
"Then I’ll have lost my investnt, and I’ll move on to the next opportunity." Lady Pelica shrugged. "That’s how the world works. Power flows to those who can seize it, and away from those who can’t. I’m simply trying to position myself advantageously."
Brakthar frowned. "That’s very... cold."
"Is it? I could pretend to be motivated by altruism or loyalty. I could tell you that I believe in your cause, that I want to see the barbarians freed from slavery, that your god’s mission resonates with my soul." Lady Pelica’s eyes hardened slightly. "But that would be a lie. We all have our interests. The matter of whether it’s cruel or now is another matter entirely."
Brakthar considered that. He wanted to argue, to defend a nobler view of loyalty and alliance. But he couldn’t deny that Lady Pelica’s logic was sound.
The Chief himself had made similar argunts, in different words. And besides, the world had never to kind to him, or his kin.
"If you betray us," Brakthar said finally, "I’ll kill you myself."
Lady Pelica laughed. "I would expect nothing less."
The harvesting continued for several more hours. By the ti they were finished, the masters had accumulated a substantial haul of bundles of chitin, containers of preserved organs, pouches of essence crystals extracted from the denser parts of the Hive Fiend’s body.
"This is worth a small fortune," Lady Pelica announced, surveying their work with satisfaction. "If we can get it to market, the Stronghide banner will be wealthy enough to afford proper equipnt, proper training facilities and so proper everything. Fiendish monsters are expensive everywhere."
"If we can get it to market," Karathra repeated. "We’re still in the middle of an Abyssal land, with a chief who’s trapped gods-know-where, and a mission we haven’t completed."
"Details." Lady Pelica waved a hand dismissively. "The important thing is that we have value now. When we et with the other banners."
Karathra wasn’t sure she agreed with that assessnt, but she didn’t argue. They had more imdiate concerns.
"Drakira," she called. "How are you feeling?"
The barbarian had regained consciousness about an hour into the harvesting, though she’d been too weak to contribute much. Now she sat propped against a boulder, the Veil of the Unseen draped across her lap.
"Like sothing chewed up and spat out," Drakira admitted. "But I’ll live."
"Can you travel?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Not really."
Drakira sighed and began the laborious process of standing. "Then I can travel."
The masters gathered their supplies in one place and let Brakthar drag it into the Drowning.
"The eting point with the other banners is half a day’s travel from here," Lady Pelica said, consulting sothing that might have been a map or might have been a ntal image. "If we push, we can make it before nightfall."
"Then we push." Karathra took point, her axe freshly sharpened and ready for whatever they might encounter. "Stay alert. The Hive Fiend is dead, but this is still an Abyssal land. There will be other dangers."
They moved out, leaving the valley of corpses behind them.
As they walked, Karathra found her thoughts drifting to the Chief. She knew she wasn’t dead, sohow she could tell.
But what? What could he possibly be doing in the depths of the Weeping Canyon that would make him stronger rather than killing him?
She didn’t have answers.
She might never have answers. All she could do was complete her part of the mission and trust that the Chief would complete his.
’...He ordered us to kill the Fiendish monster. We did that. He ordered us to et with the other banners. We’re doing that. Whatever happens next...’
Whatever happened next, the Stronghide banner had proven themselves. They had faced a nightmare made flesh and erged victorious.
They had harvested a fortune from its corpse. And they had done it without their chief, relying on their own strength, their own cunning, their own determination.
The Chief would be proud.
And when he returned, because he would return, Karathra refused to believe otherwise because what else would be left then? They would show him just how much they had grown in his absence.
The path ahead was still dangerous. The other banners waited at the eting point, with their own agendas and their own sches. But the masters of Stronghide walked toward that eting with heads held high and weapons ready.
They had faced the worst the Abyssal land could throw at them. At least it seems like that.
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