Shadowrun - Earthdawn - Mother Speaks (18 page)

Her hair was long and black and coiled around her neck, writhing, as if alive. Her face, strong but smiling, white teeth gleaming, looked down at me. Her large eyes were hazel, and reminded me of the mix of blue and green one sometimes sees in the sky at clear sunrise.

I almost turned to those around me, wondering if they too could see the fantastic apparition standing in the midst of the violent chaos, but did not, for fear that she would vanish if I turned away. From the periphery of my vision I saw no change in the wild motion around me, making me suspect she was my vision alone.

On her hip was a sword—thirty feet long at least, its pommel encrusted with rubies the size of babies. The woman leaned down toward me, her outstretched hand covered in a glove of silver links. As she bent toward me, the reflection of firelight from the pyres slid down her length. I could see clearly that her belly was a lovely, tremendous bulge.

She was pregnant, and the armor had been fitted to give the child within her a place of safety.

I smiled at her in delight, and her smile widened. Her gloved hand came closer—its size making it seem as if it were rushing toward me at a terrible speed—but it did not crash into me. Not that I would have moved. The image mesmerized me, and I would not have moved even in exchange for the secrets of spells I only dreamed of possessing. Her fingers stopped, brushed against my cheek, and I felt the surge of a hundred monsters rush through me. I thought of the two of you, and instead of feeling concern for you, or rage at those who'd enslaved you, I felt at overwhelming desire to hurt. The desire was connected to the Therans, but the goal did not matter. Your freedom did not matter. What mattered was moving my muscles and bones, pushing them as far as they could go in conflict against others. The Therans were just an excuse. There could be others. There would be.

Pain would be my mark. The more pain I felt, the more I had succeeded. Not pain unto death, for that would mean defeat. But as much pain as I could withstand. I would burn myself as much as I could endure, and what could be more challenging than that? What could be more wonderful?

My perceptions of the universe melted, sight mixing with sound, touch with taste. The cries of the trolls around me became dark shadows floating with wild abandon to the rhythm of the stomping feet. I screamed with pleasure, though the noise that tore from my throat appeared before me as a scarlet wraith, winding around my body, lifting my arms and legs, turning me into a marionette of brutal pleasure.

Thoughts could no longer survive in my mind, my body had become too hot. Barely aware of what I was doing, I leaped into the air and slammed against a troll wearing armor of fur and sharp crystals. The stones raked into my flesh, and the pain was exquisite. What can I say? It seems insane, but there was something so wonderful about the pain. A reminder of being alive. An acceptance of being alive. A surrendering to being alive. For life is so full of pain and dependent upon our fallible flesh.

Trolls smashed into me, knocking us into each other, then to the ground. Their jagged crystal armor tore open my right arm and the blood flowed freely. The raw nerves tingled in the night air, as if silver needles danced feverishly along my flesh. With my left hand I brought my blood to my lips.

I reeled at the taste. So, so sweet. The droplets flowed across my tongue, alive, like insects crawling in my mouth.

I screamed and screamed and threw myself at the trolls, flayed my flesh for my efforts.

Bled. Knew each part of me that could be hurt easily, and then found those more carefully protected.

At no time did I feel as if I would black out. Thystonius sustained me. My flesh began to heal even as I rushed for my next wound. It was that way for all of us. The blood flowed freely. We all knew pain. But none died, and the injuries were temporary. They were true wounds. They were wounds inspired by our Passion of conflict. They gave us a taste of battle, and we hungered for the real thing.

20

Vrograth threw his head back and laughed. He stood on a mound in the middle of the dance. "My warriors!" he screamed, his voice harsh and tired, but so full of life! The energy caught all of us full in the chest, lifting our Passions. I wasn't even one of his warriors, but at that moment I would have done anything he asked. "We will avenge. The Stone Sailor will suffer. We shall kill. Tonight we leave. Tonight we sail for their false mountain and destroy them!"

By "false mountain" I knew Vrograth meant Sky Point. At last! It was as Krattack had said. Finally I would go after my children. So deep was Vrograth's fury, the Therans would not stand a chance. I would fly with them. I knew it. There was no choice. I would accompany them, and they would let me kill the Therans. And if I died in the attempt, at least I would have lived.

But here Krattack surprised me once again. "Great Vrograth!" the inscrutable illusionist said, "How many more shall you lose to the might of the Therans?"

Missing the true question in his advisor's words, Vrograth shouted, "As many as it takes to destroy them!" A sound like a gale rushed up from our throats as we cheered the response.

"No, great Vrograth!" said Krattack, and his voice now floated in and out of the crowd.

The effect was disturbing, and many of us began to calm down. "You will lose everyone.

Days ago you engaged in direct conflict with the Therans. They killed a third of your numbers. If you do this again, you will lose another third. And then another third. And then another third. You will lose a third each time until only you and the clan's children are left!"

"Then I shall give the children swords, and they shall die as well!"

We all thought this was the most wonderful idea in the world, and cheered once more to show our appreciation.

Krattack spoke again, not one to be daunted by the words of others. "Great Vrograth!

Your passion for war is a wonder, and your people do you proud. But you must focus the energies of war. As they are now, they will be wasted."

The pregnant giantess looked down at Krattack with suspicion, as if she might have to swat him out of the way to let the party began again.

"I want to KILL!" screamed Vrograth, and we repeated the words.

"But how do you want to kill them? Choose carefully. Patience might be your best path, mighty warrior!"

"Patience. Bah! Patience! What can patience do?"

Suddenly Krattack swept his arm toward me—really. His arm flew off his body and rushed toward me. Trolls jumped out of the way, clearing a path. The arm grabbed me by the shoulder and pushed me toward Vrograth. The one armed Krattack said, "She can tell you what patience can do!'

Vrograth and the giantess both stared down at me. My body burned for pain and the release of rage, but I felt Krattack's hand against me, and this cooled my flesh and allowed thought to return.

At first I had no idea what the troll was talking about, then, with strange clarity, I understood, and knew my place in Krattack's plan. I decided to help the old troll, for it seemed that it would help me as well. "Great Vrograth," I began softly, overwhelmed and disoriented.

"Louder. Please," begged Krattack with a whisper in my ear, though he stood dozens of feet away. "Presentation is everything."

"Great Vrograth!" I shouted. "Patience bested you several weeks ago when you and I confronted each other." Vrograth began to dismiss me with the wave of one of his massive hands. But I cried out, "You are mighty, Vrograth! I am small! But with patience I bested you. I waited, and when I struck, I struck for victory!"

Not knowing where these words came from, I thought Krattack was using his magic to influence me. But, remembering well the odd moment in the years afterward, I realized that we are often given the gift of words when we least expect it, when the words are truly worth speaking.

Whatever their inspiration, the words had a pronounced effect on the gathered mob. All began to settle, though still breathing heavily. Even the giantess seemed pleased, for she smiled at me.

"Listen to her," shouted Krattack, and his arm was back on his body. He walked with sturdy steps toward Vrograth as he went on. "This woman is not like us—she is not one of us. She does not depend on her bulk and massive strength. Yet she survives. Yet she wins. We are like her to the Therans. If we wish victory, we need to learn her wisdom."

Vrograth did not trust this bit of logic. "What can this little one teach me?" But around me I heard grunts of approval for Krattack's statement.

His reference to me as a "little one" pushed me into anger. I am short, even for a human, and I do not hide from the fact, but he used the term in such a dismissive way. Though reigned in, the Passion of Thystonius still flowed strongly in me. I charged up the mound, running low. Vrograth spread his arms, ready to catch me as I tried to knock him over.

But I did not intend to knock him over. At least not in the way he thought. For once in my life, I had no hesitation about how to use my spells effectively, and a plan quickly formed that melded my magic and muscle.

As I rushed up to him, I blew my breath on the ground and cast the ice breath spell. The sheath of ice formed behind me as I kept on running. Vrograth did not notice this, for he was intent on chasing me. When I reached him, I ducked in between his thick legs, still casting the spell. The icy surface spread out over the mound and under his feet. He gave a startled gasp as I kicked him in the rear, knocking him off balance. He slipped forward, teetering for a moment. Then his legs slipped out from under him and he slid down the mound, landing finally on his rump.

A great cheer went up from the trolls.

And another, when Vrograth struggled to get up and slipped on the ice once more. This time laughter accompanied the clapping.

I felt terribly happy, but of course my troubles were not yet over. Vrograth scrambled off the ice and stood up, furious. The Passion of Thystonius was still strong in him as well.

He prepared to charge me. Reflexively I grabbed some dirt from an un-iced portion of the mound. If he came at me? I would send earth darts into his forehead.

But Krattack appeared between us—suddenly, with a silvery burst of light. "Great Vrograth! Certainly you can charge her and win. That is what the Therans will do to us.

But we are her size, and we must find the clever ways to best them, as she has bested you.

Will you learn from her?"

Vrograth stared at the illusion, ready, I was certain, to charge through it and rip me apart.

But several other trolls came up behind their leader. They touched his arms. He shrugged them off. They whispered to him. He shook his head.

More and more approached him, until he was surrounded by his people, all of them speaking with great excitement. Countless voices tried to reason with him.

Finally he bellowed, "Enough!" and all the trolls quickly stepped back. He looked up at me and said, "Very well. Krattack say I listen to you. I listen. But I am chieftain. Do you understand?"

I nodded, realizing how easy it is for people to lead from vanity rather than respect for the people who follow them.

21

He spread his arms, as if with generosity, but on his face I saw nothing but spite. "What wisdom does the little human offer?"

"The first piece of wisdom is this: We have to attack them in small battles. Their fortress, Sky Point, is too well defended to attack directly. We must chip away at their fleet." The words came from my mouth, but I had never before spoken of matters strategic. It seemed only common sense—but Krattack seemed to think my common sense would carry the day. "Sky Point is where the true wealth is—the Theran magic, the Theran treasure of stone and metal. But that is the greatest prize. Second are the flying castles, which are filled with treasure as well. And last are their stone ships. These we must attack first, in isolation, for they are the weakest of the ..."

"What challenge to attack the weakest?" demanded Vrograth.

"The challenge," shouted Krattack, who looked for a moment as if he might be about to pummel Vrograth with his old hands, "is in the long term goal. In sustaining the patience.

She speaks wisely. Hear her out."

"Patience is not way of crystal raiders!" Vrograth screamed, and suddenly, despite his size, I clearly imagined him as a little child, four or five years old, who had gotten his way for far too long. It seemed he might start stamping his feet at any moment. Some of the trolls around him nodded sagely, but others seemed uncertain.

Krattack said, "Often patience is not our way. But our world has changed. The Therans

..."

"Therans, Therans, Therans. For months you speak about the Therans! When I was a boy I remember you speak about Therans! All your life you tell us Therans come. Now they here. Why things different? We attack. We kill. We raid."

"They are different because the Therans are here now. They live life differently than we do, and they wish to force that life upon us."

"We will hill them!"

"We might kill them," said Krattack, teeth clenched. "But we might not. The arrival of the Therans is the test of the people who live in this land—this land of Barsaive. The entire land will change because of their presence. Either they will rule us, or we will force them out—but all of us will be changed."

"What do you mean 'we'?" J'role asked, loudly, for he had been too long removed from the center of attention. "Do you mean the Stoneclaws? The trolls of Twilight Peaks?

What 'we'?"

"It is o f no consequence now," replied Krattack quickly, shooting J'role a scathing glare that said, "BE QUIET!"

Krattack obviously had his own reasons for holding certain portions of the discussion in reserve. The clan was set in its ways, and the old illusionist wanted to walk them through each new idea slowly. I realized now that Krattack had encouraged my battle of patience against Vrograth as a way to introduce the effectiveness of patience to clan. Each step had to be introduced carefully for fear that the trolls would balk at the entire concept.

To the group of trolls I said, "The second point of wisdom is this: match their strengths."