Chương 153: AF Chapter 152 – Hard Questions

Aun Corethua and Aun Uatan completed the image by leading a party of Aun hauling along some fresh remoran meat from kills, gained by us luring in a school of them and promptly blasting the utter shit out of them with Hydrous Chained Theurgic Slashing Shardrays before they could run away. The Aun were very happy to prepare the meat and keep the rest for use after netting them and hauling them in.

A bunch of tumeroks headed out ahead of us to deliver their prize up the mountainside, and incidentally make sure our targets were in residence. Ithaenc City numbered about a thousand people, with homes largely built into the side of the mountain now, the wealthiest building up at the edge and down into the stone for the best views.

Lugians had done the foundation work, so it was all very solid and respectable, ornamentation put on it or carved into it afterwards, with a solid eye for defense in certain areas, including multiple walls that could be drawn into place across roads, streets, and alleyways with haste if required. There were poles for rapid descents, narrow stairwells at places, or you could just follow the ramp as it wound up and down the side of the mountain.

Some people even had internal staircases spanning levels for secret ways up and down the mountain, paranoia alive and well among the paramounts. Finding Chulie, Nukdi, and Kluver wasn't that hard, as all the paramounts had favorite spots to hang out among their own kind. As members who dared to go back to Dereth and actually do some fighting, the three actually had some notoriety and prestige above and beyond those who didn't dare do the same.

Who cared if they didn't have the same clear times in the Ancient Cloister or Excavation Site? They actually went out where the fighting was unpredictable, and they could actually gain REAL treasures again! If it happened to be a nice story to hide their compensation from the things they were actually doing out there, well, that was just fine, wasn't it?

The attacks, when they came, were simple, brutal, and pragmatic. The trio of targets didn't stay together, fighting as a team as a matter of convenience, not friendship or even much trust. Steel-Black, almost Amethyst, and deep Violet, I informed the others, with Kris snarling at the Colors of their souls. You didn't get Colors like that just by imagining bad things happening to others. You got them by doing bad things in the past, and believing it was the proper way to do things in the future.

Emerald Shards, strong ropes, strong hands, stones in the mouth in the dark of night, and Gros and Kopf hauled them away, nobody taking a side glance at lugians with heavy bags over their shoulders.

It was very late, and the crowds who usually were waiting their turn at the Catacombs were gone, so we didn't need to fear anyone looking over the falls down at us on the second set of the picturesque waters. Healing magic went through Chulie's head as the gag was drawn out of his mouth, but the ropes were still there, his hands were still tied, and he was up to his neck in flowing water. A couple yards away, the water streamed over the edge of the Ithaenc Falls, considered the loveliest site in all the islands.

He could look over the edge, watching the water fall away, the distant campfires of the Aun along the shores, the moon twinkling on the seas, and the barely-visible other islands of the chain.

"A beautiful sight, ain't it, Chulie?" the Mick said in a conversational tone from next to the helpless Senior Scout, who jerked in shock at suddenly sensing him sitting in the water next to him.

"Mick! Lord Mick!" he hastily corrected himself, trying to wriggle, to look around more, and instead found himself held firmly and remorselessly in place.

"What is going on? What are you doing? Help, anyone, help!" He hollered at the top of his lungs, and the Mick just took a drink of some potent rum, looking out over that view, and let him scream. Chulie eventually realized nobody was going to come, nobody could hear him, probably over the rushing of the upper falls behind them, and lapsed into quiet. When he finally spoke, it was because his eyes were lingering on two dark figures, their heads extended over the edge of the falls, silent and motionless.

"Why, why are you doing this, Mick?" he asked, his voice cracking.

"We were comrades, friends!"

"Like Ian Ninetoes was?" the Mick asked, his voice wistful and calm.

"Ye treating friends like that, I be glad I be not yer enemy, eh?"

"We, we didn't kill him!" the man spluttered instantly, even as his face fell. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"Nae, that be true enough," the Mick nodded absently, still not looking at him.

"But ye've killed three other Senior Scouts, have ye not?" Before Chulie could deny it, the Mick gestured to the still figures in front of them.

"Nudik an' Kluver, they didnae want t' talk, either, but the truth be a powerful thing, an' they couldnae hold it in.

"Now, two o' those ye could have cleaned off an' the world fair be rid o' them, working for the virindi an' the shades as they were. If'n ye'd told the King, like as not he would have rewarded ye fer the fine job o' uncovering their treachery.

"But ye killed Aito Shuiken, bless her noble an' naive soul, because she wouldnae sleep with Karsmoor, that pompous arse." The Mick lifted his other hand from the water, and the amulets dangling from the necklaces in his fist caught the moonlight, making Chulie stiffen in apprehension.

"An' ye've been helping the assassins who been working for the Filinuvekta, caught the taste fer the Crimson Craft, an' blood o' yer own on yer hands pays the same as the blood o' those what slaughtered so many of ours.

"We did the work already, finding out who were responsible, Chulie. Karsmoor ain't living t' see the dawn. I already left word with Alicia Bladesworn, an' she an' hers are paying the goat-fucker a final visit right about now. An' unlike him, they ain't bein' afraid t' die just t' kill the pig-wencher." The Mick took another swallow of rum, still not looking at Chulie.

"I'm not here t' bargain with ye, Chulie. Yer a lying fuck, you've always been a lying fuck, an' yer gonna die a lying fuck. I am gonna tell ya, when yer fucking dead an' gone t' wherever traitors an' oath-breakers go, we're gonna pull yer damn spirit out o' the Hell yer in, we're gonna force ye t' tell us where all the loot is an' what-all the secrets ye've gathered in yer black heart are, an' then we're gonna watch again as ye get called back t' burn proper-like for the shite ye've done.

"So's I don't need no blubberings from ye. Ye can't buy me with nothing, as I'm gonna take it all from yer screaming spirit when yer dead, I'm gonna learn all the secrets ye're keeping tight fer blackmail an' coercion an' t' buy back yer skin.

"This be just a courtesy. Ye get to look out at the beauty o' this land one last time. P'raps this time ye'll finally appreciate it what ye're losin, p'raps not. If ye got a final request, I'll listen, but mind, I ain't gotta fill the request o' one of the Crimson Trade.

"Oh, an' within a week, the three of ye vanishing is gonna be known it's because ye were hiring out t' the undead, an' that the wealth an' spoils ye were wavin' around weren't prizes o' war, it were payment fer murder. Yer only legacy, yer names, is going t' be trash an' shite, just like the three o' ye, an' yer going deep into the dung heap o' history, scrubbed from the records, an' you'll just be FUCKING GONE." He took another drink, saying no more on the matter.

Chulie slumped in the grip of whatever held him, which still didn't relent an ounce.

"Damn you, Mick! We had such a good thing going! We could have cut you in!"

"Nae, Chulie. Ye had a BAD thing going, an' ye couldnae see it. Ye work the Crimson, ye die in crimson. Ye consider that a good thing, the Trade leading ye here, now?" He was idly amused at the idea.

"Well, ye always were a contrary sort."

"Mick, you know the undead have power, wealth! They can get you anything you want!" Chulie tried to struggle, but even with his superhuman strength, he couldn't move a whit.

"They only thing I'd ever bargain from them would be the return o' me fair Bunita, an' she'd only come back as an undead thing with a soul rotting in the prison o' her dead meat," the Mick answered coldly.

"If ye think ima bow t' yer paymasters, ye don't understand the McMikals at all, an' I be thinkin' damn near everyone with sense knew what ornery bastards we be."

"I can help you, help you get revenge! I know who some of them are, where to find them-!"

"I don't need the word o' an oathbreaker t' wipe me arse with, an' ye expect me to trust ye in a fight? Ye'll tell me all I want t' know during yer brief respite from the burnin', Chulie. I don't need ye stabbin' me in the back t' boot.

"Now, ye got a final request? Make it brief, an' then yer going Down t' rot an' be forgotten." The Gharu-born former gutter thief sagged in horror, staring out over the edge of the waterfall.

"You can go to Hell, Mick!" he managed faintly.

"Oddly enough, I'da agreed with ye a month ago. Got enough black on me soul t' think I earned it, belikes. An' then a fair miss told me I hae a soul like a burning ball o' ornery fire, that bein' a good man don't mean being nice about it, an' Heaven takes all kinds, including scurrilous hill clansmen tryin' t' muddle on through this shitehole of a life an' not be total dastards.

"So, I'll havin' t' be disappointin' ye, Chulie. I keep t' this windin', torturous, unnatural road o' good cheer, honest work, an' hope fer the future, I ain't gonna be there t' join ye in yer reward for skullduggery, greed, treachery, an' murder.

"Off with ye, now." He waved his hand, and never once did he bother looking the dead man in the eye. Chulie's last view was of the sky just starting to brighten to the east, a view of hope coming that he would never embrace. Then his view tumbled as something came down, and everything slowly went black.

"Light the fucker up an' make sure they all disappear," the Mick said, rising dripping wet from the water and walking off towards a nearby stone to watch the sun rise. I added the third head to my impromptu collection, Vivic Darts plunging out to impale each of the three corpses at the edge of the waterfall and set them en vivus. Gros, Kopf, and Princess Kristie grabbed a corpse each and heaved them over the edge, towards the next set of falls a few hundred feet below.

Aun Corethua and Uatan's group down below saw them coming, and converged on the splashes as they hit the water. They waded over, grabbed the corpses, and heartlessly dragged them towards the last edge of the falls, heaving them out and over the edge… right into the reborn Summons of the slithyr tentacles, which rose up as they hit the water and grabbed them with malicious glee and frothing, water-splashing excitement, quickly dragging them below the surface entirely.

The Aun were going to lose three Summon Points permanently when the hungry tentacles found themselves devouring vivic flames. But they wrote it off blandly, happy to do their part to kill off some traitors, and there were many tentacle spawns to make use of. The implications that keeping the Summons around meant that the slithyr could keep spawning on the island were also weighing on them, and they were debating what exactly they could do about it…