Chapter 17: In Transit

The next morning Annabelle and Jasmina left the castle under the direction of Trevias. They found a carriage waiting for them, one reinforced to withstand long journeys harnessed to a sturdy horse-like creature. Arcane noted minor differences between the beast and the horses she remembered, but only because observing these minor differences was among her favorite hobbies ever since the worlds drifted apart. No elfbeasts saw them off, the carriage leaving with little fanfare under an older male driver and joining a merchant caravan of half a dozen vehicles. They numbered about twenty people all told.

Arcane sat on the drivers seat next to the old elfbeast, her sealed eyes lingering on everything in turn and tensing or relaxing in accordance with her feelings on it. Jeffers had evidently kept his word, but little more. Arcane turned to look back at the port town and the stone castle towering above it, seeing through the petty walls to the living struggling to survive within its environs. She frowned; no matter how impressive the city’s defenses or its military might, so long as the lives of the ordinary people within its borders were so poorly off she could not admire it. So Arcane turned her lidded eyes to the road, looking towards that yet to come rather than those left behind.

The caravan started rolling with yells from the drivers of each wagon, provoking the beasts of burden into motion. Lurching, the wooden structures started moving, wood axles scraping against stone wheels, one by one setting off down the empty road towards the distant forest. Arcane grimaced at the heaving motion of the carriage, subtly lifting herself a few millimeters above the surface to cushion the jolts that came with each step of the horse like beast.

It took just over an hour for the caravan to travel the miles between the edge of town and the forest, one by one vanishing into the dark woods along the narrow road snaking through the trees. By that point the carriage had been firmly entrenched at a position two from the back, near the middle of the train. A few mercenary like soldiers rode alongside the caravan, moving back and forth through the trees while keeping themselves alert for any attackers that dared try to harm their charge. Idly checking their power Arcane found most to be cultivators between the 3rd and fifth tier by this planet’s system, powerful enough to match hundreds or thousands of normal soldiers but only around the middle of the overall rankings.

Around them, animals fled the extensive caravan. This, at least, was normal; it was rarer for beasts to deliberately engage large parties of intelligent and therefore vengeful beings like these elfbeasts. It also told Arcane that the elfbeasts were not a newborn species. The animals had had enough time to learn caution and the signs of their coming. Still, they were not old enough to have significantly impacted the biosphere entire or send numerous species into extinction.

Not that either of those was a common occurrence, honestly.

While the caravan was moving Arcane considered the elfbeasts as a species. If she were inclined to rank species, they would be on the extreme lower end. There was only one species she remembered as having been absolutely less than them in every way. Most of the strengths of their progenitors, elven and bestial alike, were lost. Their senses were minimal at best, their bodies too weak to even work with metal without cultivation, they had yet to discover farming and relied on hunting and gathering of extremely high efficiency to feed their population. The only things that were advanced were their cloth-making techniques, their ability to make and sail large ships, and their stone masonry and crafting. In terms of their preferred power, cultivation, they were novice incompetents at best who sullied the name of elves. In short, they were an utterly worthless species with no redeeming characteristics.

Fortunately for the elfbeasts, Arcane was not prone to judging species as a whole. Individuals, even of such a weak and worthless blood, shone with greater than normal brightness indicating that perhaps the world was near a breakthrough, during which the elfbeasts could rise from one of the weakest species she had ever seen to one of the strongest. The Rose Princess, Annabelle, was one such, as was this Black Prince she had heard of and even the young Trevias of the port town. They were still learning, still in the process of gaining enough strength to guide the river of time, but the potential was there.

Arcane pulled forward one of the swords on her back, the glass shining in the dappled light of the forest, and set it on her lap. This was not the blade bound to her, but she could still use it just as easily and quickly. Arcane ran her fingers along words hidden within visible only to herself. As she did she mouthed the words that had gone into the enchanting of the blade and described its powers. ‘Forever sharp’ ‘hear things’ ‘purify and enhance’ ‘katana’ ‘undetectable’ were written within the energy of the blade, under the name ‘Elucidation’. Interwoven with those words and the name itself was another enchantment, many, many words containing the knowledge of ancient powers on cultivation up to the old system’s First Divide.

Arcane turned the blade upside down and looked at the pommel, a crystal ball of glass without color or enchantment. Bowing her head, she considered what she was about to do before lifting her finger and wrapping around herself a barrier of absolute separation from the rest of the universe. Then, with the sharp tip of the blade, she made a tiny incision in her smallest finger and squeezed to allow a single drop of her blood to come out.

The barrier proved its worth as that blood tried to release its energy into the air, and Arcane quickly suppressed it with all her might. Diluting the drop over and over again, she was left with a pale red speck on her finger while the rest retreated back inside her body. Gently, she held her finger over the pommel of the unbound sword and let the tiny speck of blood, containing perhaps a hundred cells in total, fall and splash onto that crystal sphere.

The pale red fell in every direction, tracing a hundred small streaks along the sphere and dying the glass a tiny bit red as it passed. Under Arcane’s deliberate control, they made a complex pattern almost like a magic formation on the sphere, in red so pale as to be invisible to most eyes. The formation shone for a brief instant as Arcane’s finger healed completely, then vanished into nothingness.

Arcane dismissed the barrier and breathed a sigh of relief. Planning was never her strong point, but prescience was not lacking among her powers. And if it was something she knew was going to happen, preparing for it was simply common sense. Then again, many would argue that what she had just done was more akin to fulfilling the prophecy rather than preparing for it; she could not exactly contest them, but she would remind them that time was not so easily changed. The future did not exist yet, but cause and effect made an unbroken chain from the beginning of time to its ending. There were very few who could escape those chains, though there were many who could shift slightly within their bonds.

Arcane shook her head to dismiss the philosophical thoughts filling it and sheathed the sword on her back, laying on top of the pair and folding her hands behind her head to watch the sun through the overhanging foliage. The green leaves brightened as they pass between her and that light, revealing their internal structure to any who looked. Veins spreading out from the stem to divide the leaf into one, three, or five parts transported nutrients from the earth deep below while chlorophyll and other similar chemicals absorb sunlight to produce sugars and energy, just like those of Arcane’s time. Yet unlike her time several of these trees had trace elements of cultivated power in their trunks and leaves, reinforcing their cells and making them stronger. Arcane quirked her lips at that revelation. The energies used by mortal races to surpass their biological limits are not solely the possession of those races, but far too often the life other than intelligent mortals followed in their footsteps instead of tracing out their own path.

Inside the carriage Arcane heard Jasmina and Annabelle talking.

“You forgive him?” Jasmina screamed softly, apparently offended.

“Of course.” Annabelle’s calmer voice responded. “Lord Jeffers was only acting in what he believed to be his territory’s best interests.”

“He was wrong.” Jasmina returned.

“Mistakes were made, on many sides.” Annabelle soothed her. “Cultivators and mundanes alike, we are not so different in the end.”

“... As you say, your highness.” Jasmina gave up, and Arcane pictured the blond catgirl throwing up her paws in resignation.

Arcane herself smiled at Annabelle’s words. Apparently her work yesterday had not been in vain, and the princess was beginning to realize that people were not so simply divided into enemies and allies, equals and unequals, friends and enemies. Further, she was acting far more self assured and confident than before, even if just in the presence of her subject Jasmina.

“We should be in the Rose Kingdom in three days.” Jasmina declared after the pause.

“I certainly hope so.” Annabelle agreed, her voice confident.

“Then, about the Black Prince…” Jasmina started, her voice trembling in nervousness.

“I don’t know.” Annabelle sighed. “On one hand, I can’t see anyone other than him organizing the kidnapping. On the other, this is far from his style.”

“Maybe it wasn't him after all.” Jasmina proposed.

“Unlikely.” Annabelle rejected. “What I can’t figure out is what he wants from all this. He has to know the Rose Kingdom will never accept him or his progeny as a valid heir, nor would any of the other eastern kingdoms.”

“What if he were to put you on the throne after he enslaves you?” Jasmina asked.

“If only he were so foolish. There is a law in the Rose Kingdom that any slave in the kingdom must be immediately freed, or it is considered treason. No monarch can undo that proscription, so the prince would be executed immediately.” Annabelle explained. “But I’m sure he knows that very well.”

“I’ve never heard any such law!” Jasmina exclaimed. “If only royalty knows…”

“And every head of household, along with the rest of the eastern monarchs.” Annabelle continued.

“Oh.” Jasmina said. “Then I guess it would work…”

“Blazes, what is his play?” Annabelle cursed.

“Simple lust, perhaps? Owning and marrying the princess of an eastern nation to prove his strength?” Jasmina considered.

Annabelle fell silent for a bit, then her voice came back in a lower tone. “That’s part of it, but not enough for that Prince to devote this many resources. But enough about the prince.” Annabelle suddenly changes her tone and the subject. “We need to figure out who the traitors are in our own kingdom.”

“You’re sure there are?” Jasmina asked. After a pause during which Annabelle likely nodded she continued. “Yeah, I think so too. Let’s start with whoever had you without your bodyguards when kidnapped. It has to be someone from inside the palace...”

Outside, Arcane sighed at how long it was going to take and the inane conversation about the black prince and treachery, not listening to them name and consider names she had never heard and barely understood.

The caravan continued for the rest of the day, not stopping even for lunch. The horses were allowed to drink and rest while they forded the streams they passed, wagons going one by one across the shallow waters under the guidance of expert drivers. Annabelle and Jasmina did not emerge from the carriage, discussing treachery and making plans to deal with the west from the conversations Arcane overheard whenever she felt like listening. For her part she supported the mercenaries killing the few beasts fool or hungry enough to approach the caravan (or unfortunate enough to be rooted out of their hiding spot) and watched the trees, patiently analyzing their cell structure and growth patterns to determine the age and nature of this forest. As evening came the caravan continued moving, drivers determined to reach a clearing supposedly only an hour ahead where a camp was already mostly set up.

Arcane was the first to notice the anomaly between the caravan and the traveler’s rest, narrowing her closed eyes and sitting up atop the carriage. After a few seconds pondering she jumped up and vanished into the treetops, running through the leaves and disappearing from sight in seconds. Her moves occasioned no comment from the tired merchants and mercenaries eager for a night’s sleep for themselves and their beasts. Annabelle and Jasmina continued their conversation after hearing the child-like girl jump away, though both kept it in the back of their minds.

Thus the entire caravan was caught off guard half an hour later, not far from the rest stop, when wood arrows tipped with stone came hurtling towards the outer mercenaries and killed three of them instantly.

Calls of panic resounded instantly, the remaining mercenaries drawing their own bows and shooting wildly at the source of the arrows from before, solid thunks of wood on wood telling them of the failure of that endeavor. Auras of cultivation sprung up around the mercenaries and a few of the merchants, who drew stone knives and short blades while forming into a perimeter around the wagons.

Nervously they waited for the attackers to resume the assault, the light of the setting sun barely giving them enough light to see by. Nothing answered their tension, though, causing the men to relax and return to the caravans, deciding the thieves had given up on seeing how well defended the caravan was. The mercenaries were furious, slamming their blades back into sheathes and stomping back towards their mounts.

It was as they were climbing back onto their mounts that the second wave came, carefully aimed arrows falling around the strongest mercenaries and killing another five, leaving just two to defend the wagons from another barrage. Those two panicked and raced off into the foliage on the opposite side, the crashing of their horses running through the underbrush terminating in gruesome screams from somewhere out of view.

The merchants threw up their paws and tried to surrender, jumping off the wagons and kneeling on the ground. Carefully aimed arrows struck those who had been carrying weapons before, a third wave of projectiles that froze the remaining merchants, mostly females and children, in place. Thieves began slowly emerging from the underbrush, bows at the ready while they knocked the merchants into the ground and took control of the wagons.

The counterattack was swift and deadly. Annabelle, who had waited within the carriage until the thieves showed themselves, released the aura of a seventh tier cultivator and crushed over twenty thieves to the ground around her. Jumping out of the carriage, she used her bare paws to rip two of the collapsed men apart and charged towards the rest, Jasmina emerging right behind her and using a impromptu wood staff to crush the throats of the other thieves.

For their credit, the bandits reacted quickly, cultivators among them releasing their auras and moving to surround the raging Annabelle. Several were fifth or sixth tier, yet even they could barely restrain the rampant princess massacring their comrades.

A few others ran for help, leaving the rest to take hostages from the merchant families left and scream at Annabelle to stop.

“Do you want them to die?” One particularly rough looking thief said as he held a blade up to a young female’s neck, her ears and tail stiff with fear. Licking his lips, the thief stared down Annabelle as she growled and tensed her paws.

“Kneel down and put on a collar!” Another called, the light of a fifth tier around him.

“You too, blondy!” A thief directed at Jasmina, who looked to Annabelle for direction.

Annabelle hung her head and looked straight at the child, who was shaking with terror. Finally, she spoke softly in a low voice. “Better dead than a slave.”

Annabelle released her aura completely and stomped on the head of the fifth tier cultivator who had ordered her to put on a collar, causing the rough thief to swear and hold up the knife again. “Blazes, are you serious! Stop or I’ll kill her!” He screamed.

“No.” Annabelle replied as she crushed the head of one of the few sixth tier bandits, splattering blood across the clearing. The rough looking thief slashed his knife brutally across the child’s neck, holding up her decapitated head and throwing it at Annabelle.

“You did this!” he screamed, grabbing another child and holding the bloody knife at his throat. “I’ll kill another if you don’t stop!”

“Better to die than be a slave.” Annabelle repeated. “Go right ahead. It won’t save you.”

“Blazed woman! Kill her!” the thief commanded, causing the others to charge at Annabelle and Jasmina, who continued to fight them all to a standstill. “Slaughter the prisoners!” He added, starting to rip apart the panicking merchant females and children, none of whom could do more than scream as they were murdered.

Bodies started covering the clearing, and the horses neighed in terror as the wagons caught fire and the remaining thieves rushed out to shoot at the still fighting pair of women. The rough looking thief grimaced after half his men were killed and pulled out a round stone, crushing it in his paw and whispering something inaudible to Annabelle or Jasmina.

Arcane watched from above, frowning as the thieves murdered the civilian merchants once their use as hostages was proven to be null. She made no move to interfere, though, simply letting them die in the brutal melee below. It was not the deaths that disturbed her, but the mentality the slaughter revealed. Normal thieves or bandits were concerned with profit, not bloodshed, and would long since have disengaged from such deadly enemies as Annabelle and Jasmina. Either that, or they would have released the prisoners into the forest and forced the pair to race after them for protection. Then the wagons would have been abandoned and loot taken, after which the thieves would vanish and proceed to sell off their spoils to whatever fence they could find.

No, this willful slaughter was something else. Arcane had seen her fair share of sadists delighting in bloodshed for the sake of bloodshed, but they were very rare and never in such numbers. Further, while they could be used by skilled commanders they rarely led others, most mortals having at least a semblance of a conscience and declining to sadistically murder for the sake of murder.

Arcane pondered what the bandits could be after as she watched from high above as Annabelle and Jasmina dealt with the constant assaults of the bandits, deflecting arrows back to back and constantly trading places so Annabelle could destroy the strongest enemies one by one. Jasmina did well against the normal thieves, but there were still half a dozen tier five and six cultivators among them who could match or suppress her, forcing Annabelle to constantly work to save her friend. Still, the balance favored the pair for now. No force existed on the bandits side to take down Annabelle, even if Jasmina were to fall right now, and she was slowly destroying the only ones who could manage to fight against her at all.

Then everything changed. In answer to the energy burst from the rough thief’s stone a pair of black robed elfbeasts with painted black tails and ears walked into the bloody scene and revealed their aura as seventh tier cultivators. One walked up to Annabelle while the other instantly suppressed Jasmina, the remaining thieves falling back to allow those two to approach.

“Who the hell are you?” Annabelle demanded, blocking the path to Jasmina and watching both warily.

“Our master desires your presence immediately.” One said in a gravely voice.

“Resistance will not be permitted.” The other added, in a similar voice.

“Surrender, girl, and you won’t be harmed!” Called the rough looking thief, walking forward to stand behind the black robed pair.

“So I can assume this entire charade was aimed at capturing me?” Annabelle asked, glaring at the three in front of her and glancing out of the corner of her eye at the others encircling her slowly.

“You may.” The rough thief said. “But we very much need you to come with us now. Sleep well.” he waved the other two forward, and they approached slowly and deliberately, in complete silence.

It was in that same manner that they suddenly stopped mid stride, ears and tails flinching before their upper bodies slid off their waists and fell to the ground, a single slash stretching diagonally from one’s upper shoulder to the other’s hips. Straightening up in the middle of the dumbfounded audience, Arcane let a light click resound around the forest as she sheathed one of her glass swords at her waist.

“... What?” The rough looking thief asked, staring at the obviously dead bodies of his trump cards. “What in the blazes?”

“Boss…” Another started, aiming at the newly arrived Arcane in her bright cyan dress. “What about her?”

“... Kill her.” The boss thief ordered, prompting a hail of arrows to surge towards Arcane. She didn’t even bother to dodge, simply drawing her sword and swinging it lazily in a twirling pattern which generated blades of wind to smash every shot and every bow alike.

Horrified as their bows exploded into splinters in their paws the bandits started backing away, realizing Arcane was without a doubt far beyond their ability to defeat. A few tried to run, only to be cut to pieces by her wind blades or crushed by the revitalized Annabelle and Jasmina.

“Thanks for the assist.” Annabelle said as she killed several bandits frozen with fear. Jasmina nodded as well, ripping the head off the leader as he screamed in pain.

“No problem.” Arcane replied, flashing around the clearing and cleaning up the rest. Blood spurted upwards as the bandits heads fell off, their hearts not yet realizing they were dead before it happened. In a few seconds, the battlefield was once again silent save for the whinnying of some lucky horses and the seeping trickles of blood falling from the dozens of corpses around them.

The still living three met in the middle, right in front of the collapsed pieces of the seventh tier cultivators in black robes. Annabelle knelt down and pulled both hoods back, revealing black painted faces that melted in the evening light, leaving only puddles behind.

“The faceless.” Annabelle declared, wiping her paws on her furs and stepping back hastily. “That settles it.”

“The Black Prince.” Jasmina agreed. “The faceless only answer to him and his father. He’s definitely involved.”

Annabelle nodded while the puddles of black liquid ignited and burned merrily, using her cultivated power to prevent the fire from spreading by pulverizing the area around it. “Not that it does us much good.”

Arcane ignored the pair of them and walked over to the flames, reaching out to scoop up some of the black fluid and stopping the burning process by sealing it away from air. Annabelle and Jasmina called out in warning, expecting her hand to be burned by the flames and revealing looks of shock at the inert mass on her palm.

“What the…” Jasmina stammered.

“How?” Annabelle demanded, her paw holding Arcane’s wrist tightly.

Arcane brushed them both off and sniffed the compound. It was definitely that substance, one of the rarest materials in the universe. Arcane scrolled through her memory, trying to remember how many times this substance had been found and everything that was known about it. Then she tried to remember everything she could about the universe she fell asleep in, trying to figure out if basins of this substance could possibly have formed on this world and risen to the surface of the world. The answers to both were, unfortunately, unlikely.

It had been called, in her time, petroleum. It was also known as oil, black gold, gasoline, and a number of other such terms. The substance was so very, very rare because it took an immensely long time to form under very specific conditions, among which was the presence of (constantly dying) life. Terraformed worlds like in her age had lacked the time requirement, and the rise of supernatural powers such as cultivation or magic had been a severe blow to its existence in the ages afterwards.

So Arcane was surprised, to say the least, to find any trace of this substance on a young world like this. She was even more surprised at how it was being used, recognizing instantly the technique being engraved into the material as it formed as taboo of the highest order. Converting living organic flesh to an equal weight of petroleum was illegal in every nation that existed in her original universe, and she had carried that prohibition down to every nation since by never sharing the technique. Further, without at least some reserves of crude oil existing beforehand, requiring millions of years of dead biomass to accumulate, there was no possible way for it to develop.

Arcane narrowed her eyes at the puddles burning in front of her and came to a decision. Turning to Annabelle and Jasmina, she poured the oil into a stone cup.

“I’m keeping this.” She declared. “It requires further examination.”

“Okay.” Annabelle said, confusion on her face. “Do you know what it is?”

Arcane shook her head, lying deliberately and without flinching. “No.”

“I see. You seem very interested in it, though…” Annabelle continued. “Well, never mind. We need to figure out how to counter the Black Prince.”

“Yes, your highness.” Jasmina nodded. “Shouldn’t we get back to the Rose Kingdom as soon as possible?”

Annabelle nodded. “Of course. Fortunately the carriage is intact… Let us use it.”

The three girls came to the carriage, grabbing the three remaining horses on their way.

They boarded, Jasmina and Annabelle resuming their conversation about the Black Prince while Arcane sat awkwardly on the side, wondering when the other two would remember something rather important. After about five minutes of the carriage not moving, she finally coughed and reminded them herself.

“Ahem.” Annabella and Jasmina looked over at Arcane, who pointed out the still open door. “Who’s driving?”