The trips to the menhirs were busy, but nothing too surprising.

  Hea hunters and shamans were out there, and well-represented in the landscape spawns, as were many human bandits and cultists slaved to the system. The true Isparians of the Raven Hand took one look at the forces advancing across the plains of the plateau and wisely made themselves scarce with all speed, many Recalling away on sight of us.

  I knew Adso and the rest of Oswald’s students had not followed their master after Nuhmudira, but instead had been sent on a special scouting mission by Briggs and Kris.

  Their job was to look for Dungeons that weren’t on the Visual File maps, especially those around the base of the Plateau. Prince Gerraine of the undead was said to have a base on Marae Lassel, and we wanted that to be closed off permanently if at all possible.

  There were more of the vicious carenzi, and the great colorful siraluun flightless birds to be found running about and in the spawns, both admired by the tumeroks for their ferocity and attacking skill. Carenzi were like fierce badger-pugs, while the Kithless Siraluun were fiery red and yellow creatures whose feathers were much sought after as expensive and fancy adornments for hats and dresses.

  Alas, Summons didn’t drop loot anymore, and making the siraluun go extinct for a fancy dress wasn’t something the tumeroks approved much of.

  Also, there were olthoi.

  The Wharu, as the tumeroks called them, spawned everywhere, and there were clusters moving about the landscape here and there, either hunting or hunted by clusters of Hea who had to deal with them while not upsetting all the other random spawns about.

  There were signs of major conflicts all over the place, the ground seared by magic, olthoi corpses that hadn’t completely crumbled away, and the like.

  The Hea were making use of their Summons in great numbers, using them to break up and delay the olthoi while they bombarded them with spells and arrows, a wise tactic. The olthoi were sweeping up the landscape spawns and building up hordes to overwhelm such defenses, and the Hea as a result had to be very careful about the size of the olthoi forces they confronted.

  Being able to pick out the leader olthoi and destroy it was basically the key to victory, naturally enough, and the Hea had learned the lesson painfully. Still, they were being Revivified by the virindi System that was in place, so they could win any fight eventually… but how much could they depend on that system when it was the virindi behind these mutated bugs?

  We had no such compunctions, and we had no such Deathstone-esque relief behind us. We killed basically everything we ran across, save the Hea Summons some of their officers took charge of to bolster their forces, and we Sealed each and every Spawn Point with vivus.

  The Hea watched the ectoplasmic corpses collapse with magical speed that devoured flesh and equipment alike, and the fact these were true spirit beings was drummed into them.

  However, it was Hea Rheaga who investigated over thirty Hea tribal warriors from the Spawn Points, regarding each of them closely one by one.

  ---

  In the end, Hea Rheaga turned to me and shook his head.

  “Magos?” Hea Kurugus asked silently, for all of the watching tumeroks.

  “The System of magic which pervades these isles captures the souls of the dead and uses them as easy foundations to base new Summons on.” The eyes of the tumeroks there all widened as they considered the implications of that fact. “We have verified this with the humans you have seen here, and elsewhere. Our Lord Mick’s own wife, slain in the Fall, was one of those reincarnations.” The Mick just nodded as the shocked Hea turned to look at him. “Each of these spawned humans was investigated for the soul within them.”

  “You did not spare any of these Summons,” Aun Gulchuta pointed out carefully.

  “They were all Raven Hand cultists, forced into rebirth and the roles they held in life, trapped forever… until they were set free with vivus. Perhaps more mercy than they deserve… but the Raven Hand’s numbers are not great. Eventually, there will be no more Isparian souls bound in ectoplasm and conjured into this world again.” I turned back to Hea Rheaga. “I imagine you can picture what Hea Rheaga did not find.”

  “These Summons have no souls?” asked Hea Kurugus softly, turning an affronted eye on the impassive Hea Summons standing there.

  “The same as the Hea landscape spawns in Osteth and in the South Dires… and I will note that no Aun are Summoned here after the tribe departed Marea Lassel. The souls of the dead are being taken by another force.”

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  “What?” Hea Khealo blurted out. “Why are Isparian souls being taken, and not those of the tonk?” he demanded quickly.

  I just nodded at Hea Rheaga, who sighed loudly. “Their souls are enslaved by the virindi, not the System here. It is likely the virindi will drag them from world to world when they finally depart here, and they will serve the virindi eternally as slaves and conscripted labor.

  “When our kinsmen departed here and took up Asheron’s Protection, the System stopped spawning them, and there is no other location in Dereth that is known to Summon the Aun. It is possible the magic of our ancestors and veneration of the spirits has kept them free of the System, and they were never subordinate to the virindi.” His glowing golden eyes swept over the very discomfited Hea warriors there, and the proud and ferocious Hea buckled at the knowledge and Things Seen in those eyes. “You are all bound to the virindi. If they chose not to let their magic incarnate you on death, spirits you will remain, chained by their magic to follow them from world to world.

  “We believe the tumeroks incarnated in the Obsidian Plains may hold the souls of our kin. We have found none elsewhere in Dereth as yet… and they are not found here, either,” Hea Rheaga confirmed.

  The curses and mutterings that arose were not complimentary to the virindi in the slightest. There was serving, choosing to do so for rewards and glory, and the means to cheat death, but to have one’s very spirit doomed to an eternity of service to the Atual Ngamaru, the slavers without anima…!

  “I can break Summons free of the System!” Briggs’ booming voice announced, drawing many shocked eyes to the towering man. “I have done so to hundreds of Viamontians on the Hlaetian Isles to the north, for instance, and several dozen bandits and mercenaries of human seeming, recovering the souls of the Isparians within! The rest we set free from the System and they were sent to their fates.” His intent gaze, pale green eyes almost luminous, swept over them coldly, a born commander. “I do not know if I can release them from the virindi. My guess… is no. If they choose not to allow you to incarnate at death and instead use the proclivities of the System to conjure up servants for themselves instead, you are utterly screwed.

  “This is the consequence of the choices you have made for yourselves. If you wish to be free of the virindi, then you must spurn their grip on your very soul while you still live. If you die, then the fate of your soul is theirs to determine, and not your own!”

  Hea Kurugus nodded somberly, while the Hea warriors shuddered. “Commander Briggs and Princess Kristie can both break you free from the virindi. All of the Hea of Osteth are now free of the virindi. We do not return so easily if we die, having to use powerful magic by the shamans and sacrifice precious gems to return… but our lives are our own once again, and that is far more precious a gift than anything the treacherous Ngamaru could give us!” he declared fervently.

  “You go to fight Wharu without the protection of the blue stones from long ago?” Hea Kjealo spoke up. “To fight what we dare not, even with the virindi succoring us?” He turned, wiped his hand across his mouth, and flung the spittle away, an insulting gesture, a mark of disgust, but not directed at us.

  The lowland chief of Greenspire stepped forward and knelt to where Briggs stood on the Wagon, his head averted in shame. “Great Warlord of the Isparians, please free my soul from the virindi! I will not be a coward in the midst of such brave warriors!”

  The words of the chief, clearly not as powerful as the Hea who had served in the Direlands so actively and in his retirement, shook the other Hea to the core.

  With another cry, a second Hea wiped his mouth and flung the spittle away, striding forward with his head lowered in shame. “And I! If I die, let me die and join my forefathers!” he called out with passion, and his words caught like a flame among the Hea.

  Guttural cries sounded forth as the Hea threw away their pride and knelt in shame at their own cowardice, their own willing enslavement to things without anima. In but a few breaths, all but the Hea Summons were kneeling to Briggs, and to Princess Kristie, who came to stand up beside him.

  “There is the pride of fools, and the pride of warriors who know their duty and face it without flinching,” Briggs stated grimly, and his Source Presence swelled before them, sweeping over them like a river of destiny. The weight of it, and the quiet rumbling Thunder in his voice, drove their faces down even further as the Hea realized that this was indeed a warrior of great and terrible spiritual power. “Shall we, my Hag?” Briggs asked lightly.

  Kristie lifted a hand girt in Golden blades as hard as adamantine. Her chortle was razors on the ears, and every single Hea there flinched as it broke across them. “We shall, we shall. Tell me, would-be tonks of the Hea, would you prefer to burn, or to bleed?” she asked sweetly, and the brave, fierce savage warriors of the Hea all shuddered at the razors in her voice, understanding she wasn’t lying in the slightest.

  ------

  Her Golden Soulclaws plunged into the head of the prostrate Hea, everyone wincing as they drove into his brain, just as they had a hundred other times by now. The Hea whimpered, unable to hold it in, as he brushed up against the power of her soul and got a faint idea of what he was truly kneeling to.

  Then her Soulclaws clenched, and she pulled.

  The Hea spasmed uncontrollably, arms and legs kicking out in wild twitches of his muscles, but he did not fall, suspended there by a network of virindi-purple strings pulled free of him in a complex web and lattice of energy, hanging from Golden fingers like the puppet he was now revealed to be.

  Her other hand, also clad in Golden razors, swept across and severed the strings.

  Bleeding from five cuts on his bald head, the last of her patients collapsed limply to the ground, sobbing while heaving great breaths.

  Behind her, the very last tumerok, an experienced champion, screamed in agony as Briggs closed his huge fist around the threads extending up from the Hea’s body. He did not sever them, but the threads ignited in his grasp and melted away, running down to the prone Hea. The tumerok warrior could only writhe as they flared and vanished, then collapse in shock and relief, just like all those who had done the same before him.

  All of them had doubtless sworn privately not to appear in pain so shamefully before the eyes of everyone. All of them had failed to do so.

  But all of them were now free of the virindi’s strings!

  ============================

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