War Forged 601: Raising the Stakes

A canopy of surreal timbers stretched up as far as Sigastira could tilt his head, pillars of tarnished silver, burnished in rivulets of rainwater. There were many, and the earth was splayed and rifted where they’d pushed through the dirt, faster than any forest anywhere had a right to grow.

They’d said it was magic, something of Digend; although to hear the outsiders tell it, they were Kaia’s arbors. The young Nothing didn’t much care who’s they were. Although, if perhaps his offering unto the Lady of the Pit had inspired her towards more horticultural pursuits, that certainly wouldn’t displease him any. It was a charming thought, and made him smile as he gazed at the monoliths, ascending into the rainy haze. Once upon a time, when he was much smaller, the legs of the herd had looked rather like these tree trunks. When he was a foal, and he could stand under his mother when it rained.

So was it the legs of Mother Chaos or Mother Earth he stood under, now?

It was the mystique of this place that had drawn them. They’d put the caravan behind them. They being the youths of the convoy, it would seem. There were five Named disciples, older than himself and the other Nothing, but not so old they didn’t remember how splendid a canter with the grownups could be, and so had graciously allowed them to tag along. Voidra, red-crowned and sure of hoof, led their foray. Then there were the dark shapes of Kota and Dixie, and sweet Evanora, who seemed to glow in the fading light. She was almost as bright as the other Nothing beside him. Sigastira stood by him silently as the grownups halted in the evenlight, watching rainwater drip from the wings of Vitali the mule.

A quiet had come upon them, the intrepid leader of their expedition having halted them. Sounds. There were others afoot.

The colt cantered backward a few dainty steps to get out from underhoof as Voidra ushered the party back, speaking in a low voice. The word recruit made his ear twitch. Usually when a cultist said recruit they meant something along the lines of a more-or-less prompt evisceration, but there was a look of serenity on the mare’s face, today. The nice approach. Well, that was certainly what he was good at. His heart warmed a tad, when the unicorn’s red eyes flitted magnanimously upon himself and his nameless companion. Any questions, she said.

Well, yes, but he had quite a few too many to say. So instead, after a meek pause, he simply inquired, “Diplomacy?” His smile was a self-effacing one, as he was conscious of the proximity of the Disciples’ hooves to his head, and their propensity for kicking. “We’re going to try to talk to the strangers?” He hoped he didn’t sound insolent. But despite himself, his smile grew a little broader: as a rule, he’d always talked to strangers, but to have such an act sanctioned by his elders? What a thought. It sounded like they would be making a bit of a game of it too. Evangelism.

Sigastira was satisfied that his query had brought upon no great censure. He’d seen the shift in his Nothing companion’s demeanor when he’d spoke, a subconscious backwards lean as though to avoid whatever punishment the insubordinate colt would bring upon himself. But no immediate ire was forthcoming.

His reckless and hopeful yellow eyes went from their leader to Evanora, as her elegant porcelain legs shifted – oh, she was standing near him, now. He smiled when the sanguine gaze he could not miss deigned to meet his, for just a moment.

He’d heard tell about her bone garden, every manner of herb and flower and plant feasting on the cadavers of weary travelers; but he’d always found her terribly charming in spite of – or perhaps because of that. He’d never been in company with the Bogwitch long enough to dare ask to see her macabre topiary, but maybe he would inquire today.

That is, if they weren’t all about to be slaughtered by radical anti-Digendists. But as it came to slaughter, he would usually bet on the Cultists side. He’d seen the wickedness in Evanora’s smile, a particular curve to her mouth when she said, ‘messy.’ His tail flicked, feeling rather blithe and probably a little too bold for his own good, at present. Glancing briefly at the other Nothing, and then to the looming form of Kota also nigh, he couldn’t help but speak up again. “Well, I’m sure you grownups could make quick work of any threat.” Perhaps he was laying on a little too much optimism, but the beating he would earn couldn’t be severe until they left the immediate area of threat. His gaze flicked from adult to adult, and hooves shifting diffidently, he added quickly, “But if you all should like, I could go ahead to see who they are.” He was so very fond of strangers. He would dearly love the chance to see the new faces before everyone else, before Diplomacy and Evangelism inevitably rendered them unrecognizable. His words kept coming, as was their wont when they started. “At least – a greeting party could be a good idea. You all are quite the intimidating bunch.” Fond humor, as though they all were anything like friends. He tilted his head back to his Nothing companion, as though to include him in the scouting proposition, but thought better of it. Speaking to the grownups made the other colt green. Now whether green was better than black and blue, Sigastira was sure he was about to find out, ducking his head with a quirked brow and insouciant smile. “If I may be so bold.”