Milc/C.J. Milnes
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Six Souls, Book 3, Chapter 12 - It was a mistake
🕑 Added 2025-09-08 19:56:07 +0000 UTCI opened my eyes back in the real world and leapt to my feet. I swept Fay into a hug and held her tight.
“Missed you,” I whispered into her ear, earning a kiss on the neck in reply. Then her hands gently, but very firmly, pushed me back.
“Husband.” Her voice was cool. I glanced around. Jandak was smirking at me, Haylin stood next to him, and Kos was staring at the sky uncomfortably. Kril looked like a wizened toddler standing next to Pertabon, whose armour gleamed with the faint patina of a recent oiling. The giant's face was hidden in the shadows of his helm and cheek guards, but I suspected he was smiling.
The haphazard rows of yurts that formed a nomad camp, with the smoke from cook fires and forges clogging the air between them, stretched around me. The ground was a dark clay, dusty and baked hard by the intense sunlight. I wasn’t home, this wasn’t the steppe, and it wasn’t the palace in Urkash where I had expected to wake up.
I shot Fay an apologetic look. Public displays of affection were frowned upon among the nomads. “How are you all?” I asked. It was good to be back among friends.
Kril spat on the dirt and squinted at me. “You’re different?” he asked.
“Nice to see you too, you old bastard. What the hell is wrong with you all? I’m back, Amir is dead. Mission accomplished.”
“Brother, after the defeat at the Bay of Skulls, much has changed.” Jandak had gone from amused to deadly serious in a heartbeat. “I know!” He held up his hands defensively as I opened my mouth. “You won. But that’s the problem; it was only your victory.” Haylin slapped his arm, and he winced, looking down at his wife.
“What my husband is trying to say, Lord Mond, is that they have divided the herds,” Haylin said in a serious tone.
Shit. That was how I’d founded the Mondyn tribe, by splitting the herd from the Areskyn. The ritual parting of the ways meant that the unity of my horde was dead. I reached out along the threads binding my Soulbound to me, and found they were all approximately where I would have expected them to be.
The web extended around me; the thousands of warriors I had given souls to, as well as the Huskar Legions, were all close by. Some lines ran a long way, reaching out to Riverwheel and the god-forge in the north. A few scattered groups were moving around a lot closer to us; probably patrols or hunting parties.
“How many of the unbound warriors have gone?” I asked, a sinking feeling in my stomach.
“All of them.” Kril cackled, as was his wont. “We don’t need them anyway. Three new tribes, the Urpakteryn, Elpagan, and Parthil. They’re big, by the standards of a few years ago, but nothing compared to the host. And they don’t have native magic users.”
“Native magic users,” I repeated. “So they have trinkets?”
“Only what they were armed with originally. There have been a few raids on our supply caravans from Riverwheel, but nothing worth worrying about,” Kos chimed in with a shrug.
“Legio. This is not as insignificant as the tribes would have you believe,” rumbled Bon as he got one down on one knee to speak to us tiny humans on a more even playing field. “Each tribe numbers in the thousands. They have denuded the lands between the city and the steppe of game. Your herds have been affected as well.”
“But not yours?” I asked.
“Humans cannot herd mastodons.” There was a clank as he shrugged his massive shoulders, and his segmented pauldrons struck each other.
“I need vile-wolf bodies. Are their vile-birds as well?” The others blinked at my seeming non sequitur.
“We can organise a hunt?” offered Jandak hesitantly.
“Use it as an excuse to gather the herds together. Bring what’s left of them south for now. I know!” I interrupted as all the nomads opened their mouths to complain. “There isn’t enough forage, but we can deal with that. Use Rapid Growth. We have magic, might as well use it for something other than killing. Vile-birds?” I repeated.
“There are creatures like that, far to the east. They live along the Worldspine mountains,” offered Bon. “Giant eagles and falcons.”
“Perfect. I need someone to take an advanced party east anyway. Jandak, can I rely on you?”
“Of course, brother. How many of us will you send?”
“Two thousand. Plus a single legion. Hunt the birds, hunt everything, and stockpile supplies in storage stones. If we do need to move east, I want a solid presence ahead of the main army.” I turned to Fay and smiled down at her, but she didn’t even quirk the edge of a lip in reply. I was missing something.
“You will not pursue the rest of our enemies?” Haylin asked sharply.
“I don’t know who my enemies are right now. If we can stop the fighting, we will,” I said. Kril snorted.
“Boy, you can’t forge a hammer and refuse to use it. You’ve already fucked things up by abandoning us after the slaughter at the bay.” If there was one person I could rely on to tell it to me straight, it was the Dreamer.
“What does Aresk tell you when you sleep, Kril?” I asked. I was genuinely curious. I had the god’s mark on my shoulder, but Aresk knew I was no longer simply his creature. I’d fought off his aura, or a fraction of it, while I was in stasis.
Kril looked uncomfortable and muttered something under his breath.
“Pardon?” I asked.
“Not something to discuss in the open, boy. I’ll tell you later.”
“Bon, send the commander of the legion you want to go east to join us. It’s good to see you all. We should move inside and have something to eat. I’m famished.”
Assimilation of the Source of The Cycle: 5% complete.
I knew it would have ticked up while I was outside this universe. Tezca had told me many things while I waited and trained with him in my domain. Some were useful, some were insane, but I now had a much better idea of what was really going on.
This world only existed for the game. When someone won, when only one of us was left, it would come to an end. All the hints and residues of former games, such as the existence of the Huskar or the Latin carvings hidden in the tunnels of the Pass, were artifacts, implanted. If I killed the others, Fay, and everyone I’d come to love, would be unmade.
I needed an alternative, and I had one. Putting my plans into action and having them actually succeed was where the difficulty arose. The first step was reestablishing control over my forces.
My tent was as I remembered it. I stopped by briefly just to check it was as I’d left it and to feel at home for a moment. I’d spent what felt like weeks in the shadowy simulacrum of my god-domain, and I needed to feel the real thing. After taking in a short breath of air that smelled like Fay, I headed to one of the oversized command tents the Legion used. Inside a woman whose name escaped me waited. The scarlet letters over her head marked her a member of Fay’s coven, and in her arms was my boy.
“He’s grown so much!” I exclaimed as I took him from her and held him up in front of me, then pulled him close.
“He’ll be a fine warrior when he’s grown, Mond. But for now, he belongs with the women!” his nursemaid said, carefully taking him back.
“Keep him close,” I ordered.
“War council is no place for a squealing babe!” she snapped. While she didn’t add ‘you stupid man’ verbally, it was clear in her tone. God, I had missed these people. The Crathan cityfolk had seemed decent enough, much closer to the modern standards I’d grown up with before my transmigration, but the blunt no bullshit attitude of the tribes was one of the things that had first endeared them to me.
“Nonetheless, keep him close,” I ordered as the rest filed in. An assemblage of chiefs and kings had joined us as well, and soon the tent was filled with nomads and Huskar commanders.
The giants loomed over us all, armour that they never seemed to remove gleamed, symptomatic of their habitual fastidiousness. The tribemen looked scruffy in comparison. Most wore leather shirts lined with steel plates, painted black or green. The array of hairstyles stood out, each tribal grouping having its own distinctive cut, ranging from simple bowl cuts to mohawks and tonsures. The mullets of my own Mondyn tribe predominated among them.
I leapt up to one of the benches that lined the table. It was nearly three metres high, intended for giants to sit on, not for humans. I turned and surveyed my people. There was relief on a lot of faces, and some anger.
“I’m sorry I left after the battle. It was a mistake. I wasn’t here to keep you together when you needed me the most. I apologise.” The huskar nodded, but most of the tribesmen who weren’t in my inner circle sneered. “But I am not pleased with how you have behaved in my absence!” Best to slap the buggers back down again. “You have allowed your wayward sons to run off into our back lines! Were you unwilling to keep to your oaths in my absence?” I snarled.
“No point keeping an oath to a dead man. It’s been too long, Mond,” called a voice from the back.
“Jagapan? Who’s running Settal?” I jumped down and moved to meet him as he pressed through the throng. We exchanged a warrior's forearm clasp, and he grinned. His prosthetic eye, usually a bronze orb, was silver today.
“My boy Jaganalt rules in my stead. You’ve let us linger too long, Warlord,” he said loudly. Was this theatre for the rest? I couldn’t tell from his face.
“He’s a good bloke, but I left you in command,” I said firmly. He winked his metal eye.
“Emmisaries from the east arrived, and I have escorted them south so they could meet the mighty Warlord of the North,” he declared. Shit. Was it Patricia or Jeremy?
“Where are they?”
“Waiting in my tent. I’ve told them they will be presented to you at the evening meal upon your return. So you’ve got a few hours yet! You need to bring the herds back together, Mond.”
“We don’t need them,” argued a Huskar. “With the Legions and the loyal, Soulbound humans, what threat are they?”
“And you are?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Konstut, Legio. Commander of the fourth. I led the advance at the Battle of the Wall!”
“Which one was that?” I asked.
“Where we destroyed the first Urkashi field army, Legio.” He sounded hurt.
“You blokes fought well that day. What would you do if a Legion rebelled?” I crossed my arms and fixed him with a glare.
“That isn’t possible, lord.”
“What about the ferals?” I waved a hand at Nuk, who just gave me a toothy grin.
“They were expelled hundreds of years ago. We kicked them out; they didn’t choose to leave,” Konstut grumbled. Nuk bristled at the words but kept silent.
“And look at the trouble they caused you! Isolated in the First Hearth, surrounded by enemies. Enemies that changed your name,” I replied calmly.
“They didn’t change our name! They were just wild, outsiders, and they were never a threat to us!” snapped another giant from the back.
“Jagapan, before you met the Legions, what did you think of Huskar?”
“They weren’t even Huskar, Mond. Ur-viles, we called them. Same as any vile-beast. Dangerous, predatory, just smarter and tougher. Savages.” The old man replied with a shrug.
“We are not savages!” snapped Konstut.
“For hundreds of years, that was your reputation. As it is, I have an offshoot of my people, armed with enchanted equipment, who will be completely comfortable operating in my back lines. They were born in the steppe. I just secured the southern front and reopened naval trade, and I get home to find the north is no longer safe. I appreciate that it wasn’t your fault. I wouldn’t ask you to hunt the nomads, nor will I send their kin after them. I’ll go myself. Setting aside this issue–” I ignored the mix of annoyed and shocked looks at the revelation I would soon depart again, “How are the conquered cities faring?”
The meeting degenerated into a long list of gripes and complaints. There were some good signs. Riverwheel was thriving, the artisans and talents we had forcibly relocated, the term kidnapped would be technically correct, were helping the arts and sciences thrive. The city I had founded was fast becoming a rival to the Crathan centres of culture I had heard so much about.
The Legion was in good shape. Their losses in the fight against Mortimer had been minimal. That was a relative term; hundreds of them had been washed away, and I’d only had less than twenty thousand to start with. I’d had twice that number of warriors from the nomads. Now I was down to barely fifteen thousand, after the losses and defections. About thirty thousand troops in total, perhaps two-thirds of what I had started with a few months ago.
In terms of supplies, we were fine, for now. Fewer mouths to feed helped, as bitter as the thought was. Fay had arranged a cull, and vast amounts of meat were now stored in timeless stasis. This had been another spur to make the young nobles break away from my warband. The ritual slaughter of the herds wasn’t due for months, not until the start of winter, and killing so many animals so soon into the year had offended the juvenile hot heads who fancied themselves traditionalists.
I’d deal with them soon. Glimpse was already winging his way north, following the tracks their stolen herds and wagons left behind. I’d pay them a visit one by one. They would come back to the fold, or they would leave the steppe. Go west, or south into the Crathan and the Pargit lands on the far side of the inland sea.
The sun was beginning to fall, and we were well into the afternoon by the time I finally escaped with Fay. We slipped into our tent and tied the flap so we wouldn’t be disturbed.
Her earlier frostiness vanished. Once we were alone beneath the felt, she set our unnamed boy into a cradle and checked he wasn’t overheating. The heat here was more of a threat than the chill of the winds up north. Once she was satisfied with his condition and that he was soundly asleep, she strode over and melted into my arms.
We kissed for a long time, then she pushed me off again, a habit I was already finding extremely frustrating, and began boiling water for ched.
“How will you hunt them?” she asked as she prepared the dried leaves in two silver cups. Those were going to get hot. Wildly impractical for tea. I sat down on the edge of our bed and rubbed a hand over the feather mattress.
“God, I missed you,” I said softly. She looked up and chuckled, understanding I meant both her and the mattress.
“The traitors?” she nudged, sitting back on her haunches and watching the water bubbling in the kettle.
“Oh, they’ll come back or they’ll go away. They can go west or south. Not east. We’re probably going east.”
She came and sat next to me, resting a hand on my thigh and leaning into my side. “But why, Ray? You said this Scholar woman is unlikely to be our enemy.”
“She cannot die. I don’t know enough about the influencer. I’ll get a better read on Jeremy and his little kingdom after the meeting with his ‘Beauties’ this evening. He’s sworn to Aphrodite, but I don’t think that’s her real name. She’s something older and baser,” I said as my hand clasped hers.
“What does her real name matter? We call her Liarian of the wide hips.”
“I may have to kill her. I need to know her true name. And find someone to eat her. Speaking of which, put out the word to watch for a ship called Windspite. A young captain by the name of Prender is owed a favour or two. And if he’s right for it, he might have another role to play as well.”
“Ray, you’ve made many impossible things mundane, but I don’t like this talk of slaying gods. Have you succumbed to the madness?” She looked up, gripping my chin to turn my face to her.
“It’s the only way I can see to avoid losing it all.”
She rose and used a pair of tongs to pull the boiling kettle out of the flames. Some water spilled out and hissed into steam on the coals.
“You cannot lose, love. None of the others can stand against you. With the tribes and the Legions, you’re the preeminent military force in the world. We’ve had emissaries from dozens of city-states and kingdoms, all came offering tribute. And hinting that their enemies had wealth we could take!” She laughed like tinkling bells, and I grinned in response as she poured our drinks.
“I can lose everything that matters, even if I win. Life and death, Hadesti and Mater, are on the edge of war. Aresk is scheming to ignite a wider conflict. Love, this world will only last as long as they want it to. If I ascend, there needs to be another exile left behind. The ship needs an anchor, or it will break apart.”
“The gods themselves are at battle?” She passed me a red hot cup. It didn’t hurt much, at any rate, and heat was no longer something that could harm me on its own. She reached out a finger to brush it against my goblet, and the outside of my cup briefly frosted over. I took a sip, and it was warm, but no longer scalding.
“Not yet. It’s like when armies form up opposite each other. Right now, they’re weighing each other up, maneuvering for advantage, waiting for the opposition to fuck up and make a mistake. It won’t last, though.”
“And how does this affect us? They squabble. Half the old tales are about their feuds and fights. Sometimes mortals are swept up in them, often, in fact, but the world continues.”
“Love, this world is less than three years old. It didn’t exist until the gods made it for the game.” She fixed me with a worried look.
“Perhaps we should head north for a while? I’d like to see Sulk and Kayla again. It’s been too long. Once things are set right here, perhaps a break, the fresh breeze and open grasslands of home are calling to my soul,” Fay said in a gentle voice.
“I haven’t cracked, Fay!” I snapped, then took a deep breath. “I know how it sounds, but Tezca is adamant, and Aresk has hinted as much. I need one or the other of the two exiles in chains, or as sworn allies, and I don’t have a huge amount of time left. A few months, perhaps.”
“Why not kill them and you stay? If this world needs a lynchpin, you can be it!” she said, standing to pace back and forth across the tent. Her simple dress swirled as she turned at the end of each short walk.
“I’ll still be here. In some capacity. I’ll still be with you and the boy.” The warmth in my voice made her stop and stare at me. She nodded decisively, tossed the rest of her drink on the fire, and pulled out the wedding gift I’d given her. The knife that could cut through stone. She rolled it back and forth in her fingers.
“If you only have so much time left as a mortal man, we should make the most of it. Do you remember the last time I did this?” She slid the blade into the ties that bound her dress together and stepped toward me as it fell to the ground.
Her body had changed since the birth of our son. She was fuller and rounder, but still perfectly formed and as beautiful as ever to my eyes. She pushed me back and began slicing at my clothes. I caught her hand as she prepared to attack my trousers.
“I’ll do this bit, if it’s ok. Knives and danglies shouldn’t mix!” She grinned and leaned down to kiss me, tossing the knife away behind her and straddling me on the bed.
