Realm of Monsters - Chapter 687: Death Comes Knocking

Chapter 687: Death Comes Knocking

  “Keep your arms up! No, your stance is off. Like this.” Nalindra performed the Dust Stance, spear in hand.

  The group of goblins lined up in front of her tried to emulate their master with little success.

  “No, no. It’s not just the stance. Your flow of life energy is completely off,” Nalindra squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples. “It’s not hard, just do what I do.”

  “We’re trying, Captain,” one of the hunters said through panted breaths. They had been at this all morning and the sun was already way past its zenith.

  “Not hard enough, clearly,” Nalindra said.

  “Sometimes a bit of rest will go a long way.” Stryga walked into the clearing, arms crossed, the hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.

  “Fine. Let’s break for lunch,” Nalindra threw her arms up in frustration.

  The goblins all breathed a sigh of relief and sent a look of thanks to Stryga, before scurrying away.

  “You push them too hard. They’ll break if you keep at it,” Stryga noted.

  “They’ll be fine. You pushed me twice as hard,” Nalindra said.

  “They are not you, not even close,” Stryga said.

  Nalindra glared at her. “Please, not you too, Mom. I have had to deal with people calling me different my whole life. I am a goblin, just as much as any of them!”

  “You know that’s not what I meant,” Stryga’s voice softened. She placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, “You’re a goblin at heart, no one can deny that. But what flows through your veins is something more. You have my blood. Veres blood.”

  “Really? Last I checked, I’m still a head shorter than you.” Nalindra crossed her arms and looked up at her mother pointedly.

  “That doesn’t mean you’re not a Veres.”

  “Are you sure about that? ‘Cause you told me the Veres have magic. Even Dad has magic. But I don’t! I should have awakened my powers when I was seventeen or eighteen. I’m twenty-four and still nothing! I’m not a Veres, I’m just me…”

  “I’ve told you, it is rare, but the gift of magic sometimes skips generations. You would not be the first.” 

  “Doesn’t make it any better.” Nalindra stared at her feet.

  Stryga raised her daughter’s chin, “And you have clearly proven yourself capable, even without magic. You did what no one has ever managed. Adapt the Gale Style for a spear… I know I don’t say it as much as I should, but I am so proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Nalindra muttered and tried her best to hide her abashed smile.

  “Now about your squad,” Stryga glanced at the dirt clearing the hunters had been using to train. It was filled with deep scuffs and even a bit of blood. 

  “What about them?”

  “You may think you’re not a Veres, but you are my daughter. You’ve inherited my mutations. You’re stronger, tougher, faster than any of them. I pushed you when you were a child because I knew you could handle it. Those hunters look up to you and they’ll follow you anywhere, even into the deepest groves of Vulture Woods, but you cannot demand more of them than they have to give.”

  “So what am I supposed to do? Let them be? Sure, none of them will ever master the Gale techniques, but they still have some talent. I wouldn’t have chosen them otherwise. With enough training, I’m sure they’ll master at least the fundamentals. Just imagine what they could do. We could cut down on the hunters’ rate of deaths by half if we had even one squad with such abilities.”

  “You’re not wrong, however, the Gale Style is notoriously difficult to learn. It will take years for them to have a semblance of the skill you speak of. It is one of the reasons House Gale rarely ever teaches any outsiders the way of the sword.”

  “This isn’t the way of the sword,” Nalindra slammed the butt of her spear into the ground. 

  “Yes, you’ve made that clear. Yet the core of the life-arts style remains. Do not push your students too far, or you will find how fragile an ordinary mortal body can be.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m going to go meditate now, so if you could,” Nalindra made a shooing gesture.

  Stryga cocked an eyebrow. “Is training all you think about? Have no time for your own mother, do you?”

  “None,” she replied nonchalantly.

  “Why can’t you be more like girls your age? Sneak out and spend time with others. Maybe even engage in a bit of courtship,” Stryga said in a playful, mocking tone. She knew her daughter hated the topic.

  “Ugh.” Nalindra made a face of disgust. “I have no interest in sleeping with any of those boys.”

  “Maybe you just haven’t found the right one.”

  “Shouldn’t you be in meetings or something?”

  “Your father can stand in for the both of us.”

  “Why do you always do that? Let Dad deal with the meetings, I mean. Shouldn’t you two take turns or something?”

  Stryga’s purple eyes dimmed. “Your father is the leader of our village. There are many who do not approve of our union. When they look at me, they see an outsider. Our alliances with the other villages are already strained enough with my presence here. It’s best if I am not seen as being too involved in our village’s leadership.”

  “But that’s bullshit! You’re the huntmaster. The hunters all follow your lead. If it wasn’t for you, the whole village would be dead. You even saved them from a dragon and lost a hand for it! How can anyone question your loyalty!?”

  “If it wasn’t for me, Lunis would still be standing,” Stryga admitted.

  “That wasn’t your fault,” Nalindra insisted.

  “Perhaps. It does not change the fact that I led those soldiers into the city. A leader must take responsibility for their subordinates. That is what it means to be a leader. Someday, you will be the leader of this village and they will look to you for guidance. When that day comes, I pray you have the strength to be better than me.”

  “Ugh, come on. I won’t be the leader of our village for a long time,” Nalindra rolled her eyes.

  “It seems long to you because you are still so young, but you will live a very long life. And these early years will seem nothing more than a small part of what is your life.”

  “That’s not true,” she proclaimed with the stubbornness of youth. “Besides, I’m not going to live that long. I’m not a vampire like you, Mom.”

  “Oh? Not only have you inherited my drow and vampire heritage, but what seems to be my mutations. Not to mention the Gale Style you so religiously practice every single day.”

  “Wait, the Gale Style will let me live longer?” Nalindra almost tripped over her own feet. She had never heard such a thing.

  “There are secret techniques among the Gale Style reserved only for the greatest of its masters. And yes, they are capable of increasing one’s lifespan.”

  “So, I could live as long as you?”

  “Longer, I imagine. Your talent in the life-arts far supersedes my own.”

  “What about Dad?”

  Stryga bit her lip. “Life-arts cannot increase the lifespan of another, only your own. Your father is a white mage. They tend to live longer than other mageborns, but at the end of the day, he is a goblin. He will not live to see over a century, let alone two.”

  Nalindra’s expression broke. “Can’t you do something about it? Can’t you help him?”

  “There is nothing to help, such is the way of mortality,” said a calm voice from atop a nearby tree.

  A shiver ran down Stryga’s spine. It had been years since she had heard that voice, yet it haunted her dreams even now.

  Nalindra fell into a fighting stance and pointed her spear at the tree. “Who are you?”

  A figure leapt off a branch and landed with a soft thud on the dirt. His clothes were not from the woods; they were pristine, made of a fine black fabric. His skin was the alabaster pale of a corpse, though it was smooth, like the porcelain skin of a queen. Hair as white as snow adorned his head and a pair of soft purple eyes watched the two with a curious gaze.

  “I have many names,” the youth replied.

  “Nalindra, get back!” Stryga rushed to her daughter’s side and pushed her behind her.

  The youth cocked his head to the side and blinked slowly.

  “Mom, do you know this kid?” Nalindra asked, trying to get past her mother, but Stryga kept pushing her back.

  “Your mother and I have known each other for longer than she’s known anyone in this forest.”

  “Really? Were you one of her comrades in the Veres army?” Nalindra asked, skepticism dripping from her voice.

  “Don’t talk to him,” Stryga urged. “Do not say a word.”

  “Mom…?” A trace of worry touched Nalindra’s face.

  “You need not fear me, child. I am a simple traveler,” the youth said.

  “A traveler?” Nalindra whispered.

  Stryga swallowed. “The Traveler. Do not speak to him, not one word.”

  “You cannot hide her from me, Stryga. Or have you forgotten our pact?” Death asked with a casualness that belied the tension in the air.

  Stryga narrowed her eyes and reached for her sword. “You cannot have her.”

  “Is that what you believe?” Death asked.

  “Mom—!” Nalindra gasped for breath and fell to her knees, clutching at her chest.

  “No!” Stryga held her daughter as if trying to shield her from the god standing so indifferent to her plight. “Breathe, honey, just breathe,” she whispered shakily.

  “I can’t— breathe—!” Nalindra wheezed.

  “What are you doing to her!?” Stryga screamed at Death.

  “I simply stopped suppressing my chaos. Right now, my energy is flowing from my aura and seeping into the air. You remember, don’t you? I did the same the day we met. Your soldiers all had adverse effects, but you,” Death stared at her curiously, “You did not.”

  “Stop it, please. I’m begging you,” Stryga cried. “You’re killing her!”

  “We made a pact, Stryga Veres. I would spare your city and you would forfeit a descendant of my choosing. That was the deal.”

  “Then spare my child, please! If she is the one you want, do not kill her!”

  Death glanced at Nalindra with the unbothered calmness of eons. “I am not. I am testing her.” 

  With a wave of his hand, the air suddenly grew lighter and Nalindra’s breathing eased. She sucked in precious gulps of air and sagged into her mother’s arms, exhausted.

  “And she is profoundly disappointing,” Death said.

  Nalindra shuddered as Death drew close and kneeled next to her.

  He reached out and caressed her head. “Apologies, child. I had hoped for more from Stryga’s daughter.”

  Nalindra stared at the ground, frozen in fear.

  “Do not fret, child, your time has not yet come. Your namesake did not fear me when we met, rather, he welcomed me. I hope you will feel the same one day.” Death stood and headed back towards the treeline. 

  “That’s it? That’s all you wanted? What exactly are you looking for in my family?” Stryga dared call out.

  He paused and glanced back at her, “I’ve enjoyed our talks over the years. I might even consider you a friend as far as mortals go. But do not mistake my kindness. No amount of words or swords would stop me from claiming your daughter if she were the one. A divine pact is not so easily broken. You would do well to remember that.”

  The youth’s visage disappeared into the woods before Stryga could find words to say, anything that might change a deity’s mind.

  “Mom… what was that?” Nalindra asked with a trembling voice.

  Stryga wiped the tears from her daughter’s eyes and tried her best to put on a brave smile, but it broke as guilt overwhelmed her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” she whispered in tears.