Chapter 11: Chapter 10: Digging Too Deep

Azmond enjoyed coming down from the airships. When they dropped anchor, he and Rael were curious. When the Faulk brought out some baskets and started riding them down the lines they’d attached to some trees below, Rael was less curious and Azmond was far more excited. He had so much fun, he convinced Derrol to pull him back up and ride down again!

Sure, it was stinky near the village, and something seemed wrong with the plants that grew everywhere…but it was better than sitting in the captain’s room, talking to the Jarl or Gault all day. Especially since Gault seemed very interested in asking him confusing questions. It was hard for Azmond, but the answers seemed to come from somewhere within him. Sometimes he didn’t even understand the words that came from his mouth, but he was too embarrassed to tell Gault. Especially since the smith seemed so happy!

The only time he’s had any fun this past week was the meals he shared with Rael once they were done climbing all over the ship and tying ropes. Rael would joke and play with Azmond when they ate, and after they would wrestle with him and even sometimes give him piggyback rides as they climbed around the ship. Which is why Azmond was so confused when Rael wanted him to stay on the ship.

“But Rael…” Azmond was nestled in the basket, tried not to whine.

“No buts. It’s dangerous down there.” Rael looked away as Azmond gave them the best puppy-dog eyes he could muster.

“What if we helped keep him safe?” Someone put a gentle hand on his shoulder. A scowl appeared on Rael’s face.

“No. Absolutely not.” Rael insisted, shaking their head violently.

“Why not?” Pequit’s bangles jingled in his hair as he cocked his head. “As a skald, we go where there is danger, where there is adventure so that we can recount the adventures of mighty warriors.” He slammed a fist against his chest proudly, flinching a bit under the force of his own blow.

“And it’s not like he’ll be alone.” Meayetti said as she and Yvon stepped from behind Pequit. “We know how to handle ourselves. A little rambunctious scamp like him needs the distraction anyways. He’s been cooped up in the captain’s quarters, answering Gault’s questions for the past week.”

Azmond nodded and looked up to each of them as they spoke in turn, finally facing Rael again with a quivering lip.

“Please?”

Rael bit their lip for a few seconds. They looked between the expectant gazes of the skalds, some of the eavesdropping crew, and Azmond. They threw their arms in the air in exasperation.

“Fine!” Rael swiftly pulled Pequit by his tunic so that he was close enough to hear them whisper in his ear. “If he gets hurt, I will personally—” The rest was too quiet for Azmond to hear, and Pequit’s face paled. “—unless you want to start singing your tales in a much higher pitch, Azmond’s protection comes first. Understood?”

Pequit frantically nodded.

Rael climbed into the basket behind Azmond, hands gripping tight to the sides. They grit their teeth as they leaned in closer to Azmond.

“When does the basket goOOOOOOO—”

Rael was interrupted by the basket zooming down the line at breakneck speeds, their voice drowned out by Azmond’s squeals of joy. Wind buffeted them in the face and Rael clasped Az closer to themselves as their heart thundered in their chest loud enough for Az to feel it on his back. As quick as it began, they slowed down to a stop right at the edge of the water, where Derrol was waiting.

“Again, again!” Azmond cheered, rocking the basket back in forth in jubilation.

“Sorry, little man.” Derrol said with a wry smile. “We can’t delay any longer. You feeling okay, Rael?”

“Dandy.” Rael clambered out of the basket with shaky knees, stumbling to the ground. Despite that, they beamed. Azmond hopped out and clamored for their attention.

“Wasn’t it fun Rael? Can you get Derrol to let us go again?” The scaled boy hopped about excitedly.

More people came down in baskets, easily hopping out and getting ready for whatever may be ahead. They watched Azmond with a casual contentment or readied their weapons. Despite the stated danger, only those following Edith into the forest moved with care.

“Sorry Az.” The Dragonward shook their head. “Captain Derrol was already pushing it by allowing you to go again.”

“Let the kid have a bit of fun. Maybe if there were two red flags, or even a black one, but one red flag is rarely as big an emergency as it seems. Maybe someone went missing without a trace, or some bandits got uppity.” Derrol slammed a fist into his palm. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

“I hope you’re right.” Rael sighed, eyeing the skalds coming down in the last basket. They turned around, squinting at the wooden tower covered in greenery looming over the canopy of the forest below. A red flag flapped, ragged and dirty, flapped listlessly in a forlorn breeze.

To call the trek through the forest a quiet march would have been technically correct. As they walked deeper in the forest, the mangroves grew sparser, the light footfalls of the trained Faulk warriors turned swifter, lighter. The rambunctious laughter and loud boasts faded into tepid speech and nervous dialogue, then hushed whispers that eventually sank into silence.  Azmond clutched Rael’s hand tightly, hiding behind their arm.

“It’s wrong.” He whispered. Azmond remembered being in forests before, though none as silent. Even near a city, birds would chirp, insects would drone and buzz, and there would always be something rustling in the underbrush. But here, nothing moved. Every now and then, autumn’s dying gasp would break against the canopy in a rustling croon, causing a few people to tense up.

When they cleared the tree line, they came upon a little village. Azmond thought it was a little small to be called a village, though. In the center of the clearing was a Faulk longhouse, flanked by six smaller houses made of stacked stone and wood, with dried frond roofs. Like the forest, there was no movement. Except for the flag at the top of the tower that was built atop the longhouse, the red cloth beckoning them closer. The doors were all shut closed. But the window shutters were cracked open, the glint of something moving in the darkness behind them.

Azmond’s horns prickled as he leaned closer to Rael, their Tome manifesting itself in their other hand. They whispered something under their breath, their eyes glowing blue for a moment. Rael pulled Azmond forwards, tapping Shieldmaiden Edith on the shoulder. Azmond leaned forwards to listen.

“There’s over a dozen people in the longhouse. Another two-dozen spread throughout the houses. They’re pulling at something, probably bows.”

Edith nodded. Azmond liked it better when they were like this. It seemed like every other day, Edith would pull Rael from their spot on the boat for a public spar. No matter what Rael did, it always ended the same way. With Edith sitting on Rael they bit their own hand hard enough to draw blood. When Azmond asked Rael why they bit their hand, Rael told him they were preventing the ‘naughty words’ from escaping. From how red their face became and how much their cheeks puffed, Azmond guessed that there were a lot of naughty words that wanted to escape. Edith always had a bored look on her face during the fights. Except when she stared down at Rael, when the glimmer of a sardonic smile would dance on her lips.

Edith always knew exactly what she wanted to do and did exactly what she needed to do. At least, that was Azmond’s impression. He wasn’t as surprised as Rael when Edith stepped forwards, shield still on her back and hand waving high in the air.

“Hail!” She called into the quiet hamlet. “Your red flag is up, so we came to help.”

Nobody responded. Yet Azmond could hear the faintest of murmurs from the longhouse.

“Why aren’t they answering?” Azmond tugged at Rael’s hand.

“…They’re scared.” Rael said, their gaze hopping between each of the houses. “There’s enough space in these homes for more people, but…” Rael shifted to keep themselves between the longhouse and Azmond. “Just get behind me.”

Only the flag above dared to speak; a gentle fluttering, twisting whisper as it reached for the warriors below in some desperate plea. Finally, a voice rang out from the largest window of the longhouse.

“Who are you to bring armed warriors into our village?”

“I am Shieldmaiden Edith of Feldon, accompanied by Captains Derrol and Kip. We were headed to the Althing when we saw your flag.”

“The Althing?”

Edith crossed her arms and frowned.

“You should know about this. Where is your shaman?” The Shieldmaiden’s voice was icy.

The pause was shorter this time, and although the tension began to diffuse, the voice trembled before the upcoming storm.

“Disappeared, for over a fortnight. Th…this is Aspirant Greem, by the way.”

There were some scattered groans from the surrounding warriors.

“Is anybody else missing?” Edith ignored the groans, speaking in a voice as cold and as sharp as a dagger.

“All of our capricorn herds, twenty-eight hunters, the blacksmith, five farmers, a child, and my blood-brother.”

Azmond watched in amazement as Shieldmaiden Edith’s nostrils flared and she clenched her teeth. It looked like naughty words were trying to escape from her, too!

“Aspirant Greem.” She spoke slowly, almost rolling the ‘r’ in a furious growl. “So many disappearances merits flying the second red flag.”

“By the time I wanted to use it I, um…misplaced it?”

Edith’s mouth opened and closed her mouth a few times as her eye twitched. After taking a few deep breaths, she recomposed herself.

“Greem.” The tone of her voice made it clear he was no longer an Aspirant in her eyes. “May we come in?”

Despite the bags under his eyes, Greem was young for a man trying to become Jarl. He had long, red hair woven in a single braid, and a goatee that may have once been neatly trimmed. He was quiet as he made food for the Captains, Azmond, Rael, and Edith. He insisted on cooking for them, especially when he saw Azmond. When he and a few of his servants set down the plates and served the food, he broke the silence. He explained that they finished building the village about two months ago, which is when Greem invited people interested in populating it, including his old blood-brother, Byron, who was serving as a Captain under Jarl Erikar.

It started innocently enough around then. Before, hunters would lose track of prey more than usual and maybe a capricorn would go missing now and then. But as Greem settled into his position in Jarl-aspirant, things began to go wrong. A hunter went missing. Then a few more. Then they found the forge unattended, the fire lit but the blacksmith missing. Against his better judgement, Greem didn’t fly the red flag, believing it to be the work of a particularly vicious fey. Yet when he and his shaman went looking for signs of it, they found nothing. Hunters went out in bigger groups, even as they found less and less food in a forest that grew more silent with each passing day. Soon, entire groups vanished. Farmers were plucked from their homes, meals still warm. Hunters gone in the moments of a turned head. When the shaman disappeared, Greem tried to fly both red flags, yet he found neither. Greem went out with a large group to collect red fruits and flowers to dye their white flag red. It was on the same eve that the flag was flown that Byron, his strongest warrior and supporter, went missing as well.

Azmond was too busy to pay attention to more of the discussion. Something about losing the title of Aspirant, punishment, a lot of angry whispers. Azmond was more focused on making his eyes as wide as possible and tentatively reaching for Rael’s leftovers. Looking cute did help get him bigger meals. After finishing his meal (and half of Rael’s) Azmond was patting his belly as he sat atop one of the roofs, kicking his legs over the edge. He watched everybody walk around, looking for clues and talking to the locals.

“Hello!” The voice was young, trembling nervously. Azmond found a young girl, leaning on the chimney behind him. She froze for a second when she saw his face but perked up and crawled closer to him. “Wow! It is true, you are a Dragonborn.” She poked at his horns curiously, causing an uncomfortable tingling sensation.

“Dragonborn?” A flood of information threatened to burst into his mind, but Azmond had been getting better at beating them back. “I think so.”

“I’m Bleffy!” The girl giggled. “Who’re you?”

“Azmond.” Bleffy was taken aback by his sharp-toothed smile before she leaned in close.

“Woooaaah…You’ve got teeth like a warg’s!”

“Cool!...What’s a warg?”

Bleffy smiled and led him off the roof and into her home. When she led him through the door, her mother’s eyes widened and pretended to focus on crushing grain in her massive mortar, each rigorous motion accompanied by an earthy, sweet smell and a grinding ‘thunk’. Bleffy pointed at the skull that hung over the mantle. It reminded Azmond of a dog’s skull he had seen a in the slums where he spent his earliest years. Except it was nearly five times as big, with sharper teeth, and a cranium that seemed almost grotesquely large.

“Scary….” Azmond shivered.

“Da said it fought like a demon.” Bleffy’s smile fell. “He always said that if the Faulk got our own Meta, we’d be able to make our own wargs. Maybe one would have protected him.” Bleffy’s voice cracked and she shook herself from the sorrow. Azmond grabbed her hand, eager to help her feel better. Wasn’t Rael a Mata, too? He opened his mouth to say something to cheer her up.

<><><> 

Kip stood in front of Derrol’s hunters, hands on his hips and head held high as they glared it him.

“’T’ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of. This ‘bald-chinned’ youth is a Cap’n after all.” He said smugly. “Ya shouldna been so surprised I could find a clue before y’all!”

“Simmer down, Kip.” Derrol said as he approached. Rael followed behind him silently. “How about you tell us what you found once we get Shieldmaiden Edith and Dragonward Rael here.”

Rael cleared their throat and Derrol nearly hopped out of his skin.

“Xyatheal’s maw, Rael! When are you going to stop sneaking around?”

“Sorry,” Rael awkwardly apologized, “it seems like Ruen still has some influence over me.”

“Aye…never mind, don’t apologize for that.” Derrol looked over Rael’s abashed face and hummed. “Just try to keep conscious about your memories and that of the other Dragonwards. You shouldn’t apologize constantly for the gifts that were forced upon you.” As he talked, one of his hunters waved over Edith, the hulking woman approaching with a scowl that hadn’t left her since she talked to Greem.

“This better not be a ‘we haven’t found anything’ report. We’re not Bergin.”

“No, Shieldmaiden.” Kip stood tall before deflating a bit. “Well, technically…”

Edith growled, and Kip began explaining.

“Normally, there ain’t no tracks. Not even from a swamp vole. Somethin’ happened here, and all them critters just up an’ left. That means one of two things: fae foul play or human foul play.”

“Neither of which is important right now.” Edith grunted.

“Sorry, sorry, movin’ on.” Kip grabbed a stick and began tracing a model of the town in the dirt. “The hunter found nothin’ so I got to thinkin’, what if we look for nothin’? When we use the spell [Detect Beast Habitat], we get the direction and distance of an animal’s territory. If ya don’t do it right, by imagining the animal or holding somethin’ that connects to it, ya jus’ sorta drown in all the information.”

“But not here.” Rael understood, Kip snapped his fingers at them and smiled.

“Yeah. When I cast the spell on the west side, nothin’. But on the east side, I could tell there were still animal territories around here.” He drew some lightly curving lines a few dozen meters from the town. “So, I moved south ‘n cast again. And again. And again.” With every sentence, he drew another curved line, until it was clear that it was the arc of a near-perfect circle.

Edith’s scowl shrunk. “Do you think we could find whatever caused this at the center of the circle?”

“I think it will give us answers.” Kip scratched his head. “Maybe not the answers we want.”

“It does fit.” Derrol stroked his beard. “The first disappearance was a hunter who regularly hunted westwards, and the capricorn pastures were southwest of here.”

“And now your boats are moored in that direction.” Rael mumbled, but their statement was heard nonetheless. The realization caused the Faulk to stand up straighter.

“Then we best hurry and get to the bottom of this.” The Shieldmaiden whistled, getting everyone’s attention. “Derrol, you and your men stay here. If we’re not back by nightfall, take the villagers with you and keep heading towards the Althing.” Derrol nodded and gathered his men. “Kip, your men and Rael are with me.”

“Wait, what?” Rael shook their head. “I’m not leaving Az behind!”

“Do you want to bring Azmond with us to danger, or leave him safe with Derrol and the skalds?” Edith rose an eyebrow.

“Neither.” Rael crossed their arms, ignoring the whispers of the onlooking Faulk. “I need to keep him safe. Derrol is strong, but the skalds…”

“And I need to solve this problem.” Shieldmaiden Edith approached Rael and stared down at them. “I’ve already deprived myself of a brilliant tactician and fighter to keep the village safe. I’ll need every fighter I can get, and normally you’d be barely passable. But your water-based spells mean you can deal a lot of damage so close to the swamps.” She leaned in close. “Unless you’d like to fight me to get out of this situation?”

Rael grumbled, biting a finger. As it was, either they went with Edith or they were dragged, bruised and bloody, towards unknown danger.

“Fine.” Edith grinned and Rael continued. “But I want someone to be protecting Az.”

“Reasonable. Jasp!” Edith called out. A man, about as old as Kip, came forwards. “Make sure the Scaled boy is safe.”

Jasp nodded and was about to turn away before Rael grabbed him by the shoulder.

“If he gets so much as a scratch while I’m gone…I will hurt you.” Rael made it clear from the tone of their voice that this was promise. Jasp shivered and nodded.

As the group set out into the deathly silent forest once more, Kip nudged Rael in the side.

“You didn’t hafta threaten him.”

“Hrm.”

“I’m serious. Y’gotta ease up.” Kip leaped over a small creek, extending a hand to Rael. They ignored him, jumping by themselves to the other side. “This is what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.” Kip murmured as other Faulk clasped hands to help one another across. “Even on the ship, you jus’ do your duty, then slink off t’ be with Azmond. You don’t sing along with us as the ship sails, you don’t laugh with us as we eat…”

“I don’t know the words of your songs, and I’m not a fan of your jokes.” Rael kept focused on Edith’s back as she led them deeper into the forest.

“That’s a load of hooey.” Kip scoffed.

He was right. Whenever they sang, magic was cast so that the lyrics would spring into their minds and a rhythm would be maintained. Worse yet, Faulk humor was crass and sardonic. Rael had to bite their tongue to stop from singing along or laughing at their jokes. Their food, their good cheer, it was almost enough to make Rael forget the stories they’d heard of the Faulk. It was especially annoying when people like Kip tried to insert themselves in Rael’s life. Rael knew better than to need anyone now.

“Ease up on them.” Edith turned her head just enough to give Kip the stink-eye. “It takes time for foreigners to get used to Faulk ways.”

“Aye, Shieldmaiden.” Kip averted his gaze.

There was a pregnant pause as the group marched behind Edith. Interest piqued, Rael finally broke the silence.

“You speak as if you have experience.”

“Not me, but my father.” Rael could hear a subtle grin in her voice, the same type of smile she’d have after every spar. “He was what you would call a knight, who ended up in Faulkie lands through one of his many adventures. He lost his leg and settled down with my mother after a decade. He would always tell me of how difficult it was to acclimate to Faulkie.”

Edith came across a larger river, which no doubt flowed from smaller creeks upstream. The Shieldmaiden scratched her chin, her eyes lighting up when she spotted a tree leaning precariously over the river. Beckoning for help, Rael, Kip, and a few others pushed together to uproot the tree, its trunk hitting the other side in a crackle of leaves and broken branches. Looking no worse for wear, Edith continued.

“My father told me how other people feared the Faulk because they attacked without warning, without reason. It was in his twilight years that he admitted that the Faulkie were more honest with themselves. We raid for riches, for food, for weapons. When another country needed something and wasn’t willing to trade for it, they had to find reasons.” Edith chuckled darkly. “Then, it was no longer about getting land for more fields of wheat, or gold to fill coffers. It was about avenging some poor sod, or reclaiming ancestral lands, or righting whatever wrong they could imagine. Suddenly, taking what was someone else’s became justified.”

The line of warriors behind her had long since fallen silent. With the dead quiet surrounding them, it was almost as if the trees and quieted all the inhabitants of the forest but the soft wind and babbling brooks to hear her.

“The powerful would send their young, their infirm, their old, with nothing more than rusty spears and swords. The lucky would fight side by side with the actual warriors, whereas the rest would be shepherded with iron in their backs. Then they’d kill each other, turning the dirt beneath their feet into bloody mud. At the end, the powerful nobles, kings, and emperors would wreath themselves in silk and silver, thanking their thralls with scant copper and gilded words. The survivors return home, crippled or catatonic, jumping at the sound of clanging steel and the tinkling of magic. They fall asleep restlessly beneath Arafell’s gaze, needing to believe the lie that it was all for something greater than themselves.” Noticing the silence, Edith shrugged. “Or so my father told me.”

         The rest of the hike went on in silence until they found what they were looking for. They almost missed it. It was only when one of the heavier warriors slipped through a patch of grass that they found it. A burrow had been dug from a sandy beach on their left into the dirt cliff they stood on. Overlooking a placid estuary that snaked out into the sea, the briny smell that clung to their noses lacked the pungent smell of rot. It was as if there was no life in these waters.

         The group slid down the side of the cliff, looking over the yawning burrow. The hole was a good three heads taller than Edith and was wide enough for three to comfortably walk abreast of one another.

         ‘I wonder which unlucky three will go inside the cave?’ Rael couldn’t help but think.

         “Kip, Rael, you’re with me.” Edith called. “We’re going to lure out whatever’s in there.”

         ‘Typical.’

         Edith and Kip’s Tome-warriors appeared behind them, as Rael’s own Tome slid out of their chest and into their waiting palm without a wince. The pain wasn’t as fresh or as sharp, but a dull thrum remained as it passed through Rael’s heart.

         “Do y’all have a spell to help with visibility?” Kip asked as they stared into the tunnel sloping into darkness.

         “[Minor Light].” Rael flung a small orb of light into the burrow, its soft blue light floating ten paces ahead of them. As they entered, Rael couldn’t help but glide their hand across the smooth sides of the cave, the light glistening across some sort of hardened resin.

         The cave went deeper, the yellowish resin sparkling in the dim light. It caught the attention of Kip, who lightly tapped against the material as he frowned curiously.

         The gentle tapping of boots echoing down into the dark as the mote of light bobbed to match Rael’s pace was all there was until they found an alcove. Inside, shovels and picks leaned against boxes on compacted soil and stone. For a few seconds, the three breathed in the smell of earth and moisture, which had faded away as they dove deeper. Edith approached the boxes, motioning for Rael to bring their light closer. The light bobbed right in front of her, revealing a crateful of chipped fragments of the resin. When she brought it up to the light, it twinkled like a yellow star. Edith and Rael turned sharply when they heard Kip gasp. In another box were scattered torcs, earrings, and two red flags. Kip held up the flags for Edith to see, when she swiped it from his hand and looked closely at it, running her fingers through the fabric with a scowl.

         ‘I guess Greem wasn’t as incompetent as we thought.’

         A few moments followed where Edith (quietly) stomped around angrily, looking over the shovels, picks, and boxes for any more clues. She gesticulated wildly in handsigns to Kip, but the captain only responded in tentative shrugs and sloppy handsigns of his own. Rael recognized a few from Ruen’s memories. Not enough to understand, considering Ruen’s knowledge was centuries old. Edith’s expression was easy enough to comprehend, though. She was livid and wondering if she should kill anybody she finds further in the tunnel.

         After Edith calmed down, she begrudgingly beckoned Kip and Rael to follow her deeper. Kip grabbed some of the torcs and the flags, avoiding Edith’s glare. The tunnel sloped further down into the darkness, curving slightly. After a few minutes, Rael recognized that whatever made the burrow was digging in a leftwards corkscrew. Slowly, the humidity began to fade until all was left in the air was the cold darkness and the subtle smell of sulfur. Until they heard it.

         CRUNCH.

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         The sound of gnashing stone followed by some sort of squelching and groaning. It reminded Rael of the sounds their father would make after a long night at the tavern. The gurgling and spewing of bile would wake a young Raela from the darkest hours before dawn, her father lumbered about the house in a drunken stupor. This time, no curses followed the echoes of a body painfully digesting its meal. Edith and Kip steeled their gazes, unsheathing their axes.

         CRUNCH.

         It was louder this time, the roiling grumbles accompanied by some terrible grinding and eventually the drip-drip of some viscous liquid. Rael let the light stay behind them as they slowly turned another spiral of the corkscrew. Yet there was nothing there, the tunnel continuing its gentle slope downwards.

         CRUNCH.

         The soft blue light behind them cast long shadows on the amber walls, a sharp fissure reflecting oddly into Rael’s eyes. They approached it, trailing an index finger down the circular cracks, noting the dusty brown substance along the edges. Something round, about the size of a cantaloupe, had hit the resin with incredible force. From the dried blood coagulated in the cracks, it seemed like it had gone through something…or someone. Rael dismissed the light source, standing close to the Faulk warriors and casting their [Detect Life] spell. The cavern lit up in Rael’s mind, the resin subtly emitting light as if it were alive. Not enough to blind, but enough to block any view of what may have been ahead.

         CRUNCH!

         The crack of breaking earth echoed through Rael’s skull. It was around the curve that Rael spotted a massive pile of flesh, contorting and spasming to slow heartbeat. Sharp scales the size of dinner plates chittered against the oblong shape, a dark ring of flexing muscle pulsating at the tail end. Stubby legs ending in sharp claws pushed the mass deeper down as tendrils sprouting from its back licked the sides of the tunnel, coating it in the resin. Drooping at the front was an atrophied humanoid torso with the head of a vulture, its loose skin sagging and peeling…until its milky eyes spotted them. Rael’s heart thundered in their chest, cold sweat ran down their back. Their free hand reached out to clench Edith’s shoulder in a white-knuckle grip.

         CRUNCH!

         Three beak-like protrusions below the torso took a quick bite out of the stone in front of it, continuing to dig as the torso twisted weakly on itself, its cataract-afflicted eyes swirling and deepening into a baleful black. Rael stepped back, trying to pull the other two back as well, but they stood firm. Kip and Edith were whispering something, but the sound of their heart’s thundering beat in their ears deafened their words.

         ‘Can it see us in the dark?’

         The torso contorted and swelled, new muscles forming where there were none, so much like its terrible progenitor. All the while, the massive abdomen that crawled along the ground began to swell grotesquely, its nubs digging deep furrows into the still-drying resin. The ring at its tail end tensed and shrank as the abdomen continued to swell, scales clanging together like a giant rattle. At once, Rael connected the dots.

         “Move!” Rael pushed Kip to the ground just in time to avoid something fly past him. “[Minor Light]!”

         The threat finally illuminated, Kip stared in open-mouthed horror as Edith and her Tome warrior jumped forwards to strike at the creature.

         “What is—” Kip was interrupted by the piercing screech of the vulture head as it twisted its neck around in a series of sickening cracks and pops, its tentacles whipping about in a mad frenzy.

One of its wildly squirming tendrils caught Edith in the chest, sending her flying backwards as her Tome warrior slammed its axe into an opening. Blood erupted from the wound, the demon squealing in pain as its abdomen jerked to the side, slamming the Tome warrior into the wall. Edith’s face paled. Her Tome warrior destroyed, Edith stumbled backwards, incapable of casting spells. The humanoid torso twisted around completely, using its clawed hands to pull itself across its body, its puckered flesh yielding in impossible ways as it waded through its own corpulent flesh to get closer to them.

“Demon.” Rael’s mouth was dry, eyes focused on the monster. They pulled Kip to his feet and pushed him up the slope of the tunnel. A tendril whipped towards Kip, missing his heels by centimeters.

“We got its attention.” Edith groaned and backed up. “Now we lure it out.”

Its abdomen began to swell again.

“It’s going to fire another shot!” Rael called, urging the other two to run. Just as they rounded the corner, Rael turned their head to see polished black ball slam into the side of the tunnel, cracking the resin, bouncing off the wall and over their heads.

“That shite-tossing ass!” Kip spat, his Tome warrior running ahead to pick up the object as it slowly bounced back towards them. When his Tome warrior crouched slightly to catch it, the ball landed into its waiting arms…and then tore a hole through it. Kip fell to his knees for but a moment, Rael pulling him up by the armpits and pushing him to keep running.

“Th-that was m-much heavier than it looked.” Kip mumbled through an unfocused gaze.

Tiktiktiktiktiktiktitktitktitktiktitktitktitktitktitk—

The claws on resin rushed after them, scuttling towards them like an overgrown roach crossed with an enraged bull. Rael had never had their Tome broken before, but they’d heard how debilitating it could be.

“How soon until you can resummon your Tomes?” Rael asked through panicked breaths, sparing glance over their shoulders every few seconds.

“A few minutes.” Edith’s face was already regaining color.

“M-maybe an hour?” Kip coughed up some spit as he wiped away a nosebleed.

“Don’t lie.” Edith grunted. “He’s out of the fight for the rest of the day.”

Kip turned and opened his mouth to dispute, only to be met with Edith’s scalding gaze.

“Aye, Shieldmaiden.”

The three of them rushed upwards, flinching every time the demon spat out a sphere, ricocheting off the smooth walls of the tunnel and rolling back down with enough force to tear off a leg. In a way, it reminded Rael of home. They chuckled at the thought, a brief distraction from the skittering horror behind them.

“Wha-what’cha laughin’ about?” Kip’s breath was labored.

“Just a game I played back home. Reminds me of this.” Rael spared a look behind them, watching a clawed hand reach around the corner, vulture head close behind.

“You were chased by demons throwing rocks in Gulass?” Edith asked incredulously.

“Not demons.”

Kip looked away to hide an expression of pity as Edith kept a stoic face.

“Don’t.” Rael cut through the awkwardness with a tone of finality. “Until they flung spells, I would always win. Just like we’re going to win here.”

As if their words were more than just pep talk, they saw light reflecting off the sides of the tunnel. Just as their heart began to soar, they kept up the tunnel to find three Faulk warriors investigating the dugout alcove by torchlight. They swung about to the sound of Rael and company’s feet hitting the floor, weapons unsheathed. When they saw who was running, their shoulders sagged in relief.

“What took you so—”

“RUN YOU IDJITS!” Edith yelled, sprinting past them. Two were quick enough to immediately follow, whereas the last poor fool stared into the darkness they were running from.

“What are you—”

The demon did not even give the man the dignity of finishing his question. Its vulture beak tore through his throat, then tore him apart in the trampling of its claws.

SCREEEEEEEEEEE!

They heard the grumbling, the squelching of something happening.

“Incoming!” Edith called.

This time, the sphere whizzed along the side of the tunnel, the black ball zooming past them. It hit the lip of an uneven jut, bouncing back towards them. It swept by one of the other two. He grunted in pain and stumbled, something flopping at his side for a moment. Until it thudded to the ground, tumbling behind them in a splatter of liquid.

“Nirk!”

“’S fine.” The warrior grumbled as the color left his face. “Wasn’t my main arm.”

Despite saying that, he was slowing down and losing a lot of blood. His friend was pulling him along, Nirk stumbling on the uneven ground. Finally, they saw the soft light of eternally overcast day. The meager light soothed their aching muscles, gave them all enough strength for a last sprint. The demon, enraged, screeched louder, slapping tendrils and claws against the walls of the tunnel in a discordant melody of fury. The five of them ran into the open, fresh air filling their lungs.

“Ready arms!” Edith commanded, swerving around to face the cave.

Rael stood by here, watching Kip help Nirk limp off behind the lines of tense Faulk warriors. For a second, all was quiet. The cave was pitch-black. Until Rael saw a pair of gleaming eyes, darker than midnight. The abomination burst from the cave with a hellish screech, long claws digging deep into the dirt and pulling it forwards faster than a swallow. The Faulk were prepared.

The creature was peppered with arrows that dug deep into the pale flesh of its humanoid torso but glanced off of its armored abdomen. Rael noted that its abdomen had shrunk somewhat, leaving less gaps between its sharp scales. It spasmed again, Rael and Edith screaming at the same time.

“Dodge!”

Another sphere shot out, tearing through two warriors who weren’t quick enough to react. The first was unlucky, having to suffer for a few seconds with a hole in his chest. The other, thankfully, didn’t even have time to realize her head had been reduced to paste. The Faulk, realizing they had a disadvantage in a ranged battle, dropped their bows and charged.

The demon tore into the first with its arms, lacerating the old fighter’s body. Before the experienced combatant went down, he chopped off one of its arms. He bled out with a smile on his face, his short battle having bought the demon’s attention long enough for six more fighters and their tome-warriors, empowered by various spells, to chop at its other appendages. Only one more was unlucky enough to be speared by one of the longer claws, and he was quickly pulled away before the demon could deal a death blow. The warriors swarmed the demon like a nest of ants overcoming a mighty beetle. Edith slammed her axes into its side, dislodging scales and rending flesh with a scream of fury, relying only on the might of her own body.

Rael watched, enraptured, as the Faulk organized themselves by instinct. An outer circle enclosed itself around the monster, sending out people to bring in the wounded or replace them. Those behind the circle would either use magic to help the fighters or send flying arrows, axes and spells where they could without injuring their fellows. A strategy that would work against any manner of beast.

But this demon was no beast, and they had yet to fully comprehend that. Rael gathered their will and cast what was quickly becoming their go-to combat spell.

“[Hydrokinesis].” Nobody could hear their whisper over the clamor of battle, the perfect chance to disguise their spell. Rather than wasting energy creating water, Rael gathered up a pillar of water from the beach, slamming it into the torso of the beast.

Unlike when they sparred, this much water didn’t even push back the demon, only annoying it. Concentrating harder, Rael willed the water to concentrate into thin blades of water. With a movement, they sent the salvo towards the demon, crashing against the beast. This time, Rael drew blood. The deadly shower cascaded against the pale torso and through its few remaining tendrils, opening new wounds all over it, but dealing negligible damage to its scaled abdomen. However, the last of its tentacles fell to the ground, writhing wildly in the dirt.

With a roar, Edith jumped onto its back, axe aimed for its neck. The demon twisted around, blocking the deathblow with its last arm. Its sharp beak shot forwards, aiming for the Shieldmaiden’s head. Edith jumped backwards, slipping on its back slick with blood and water and falling to the ground beside it. It thrust its last claw to spear her, a claw holding onto the nub leg by scarcely more than bone and sinew. She rolled out of the way in time to avoid being nailed to the ground, the claw digging into the soft earth easily. Another warrior rushed in, dealing the final blow to the claw, cleaving it off with an overhead strike.

The demon had no time to scream; another warrior leapt onto its back, digging his axe firmly into its vulture head with a mighty swing.

“This,” cried Nirk as the bandages wrapped around his missing arm darkened red, “was for my arm!” The vulture squawked weakly through the metal biting into its skull, and again as Nirk tore out his axe. He spun around, decapitating the monster. “That…was for Molod.”

The company of warriors cheered as the humanoid torso slumped down, gushing blood. Rael was still tense.

‘That…was too easy.’

Still, the water swirled above Rael’s head like a python waiting to strike.

“Rael. The battle is over.” Kip came from outside the circle, clapping the young meta on their back. “Lay down your arms and celebrate!”

True to his word, most of the Faulk relaxed, walking to the carcass to cheer for the one-armed warrior standing on its bloated body. Save a few of the older and the more cautious, who hung back. Their eyes were set on Edith, who was still as tense as Rael.

“Tonight, we feast!” Nirk declared, waving his axe triumphantly in the air.

His fellows shouted in approval.

And the demon struck. Its body twisted like a worm, its sharp scales tearing into all those who were too close. Its tail twisted, the three beak-like protrusions snapping up to grab Nirk by the leg. To his credit, the warrior reacted quickly, emitting a sheen of light that protected his leg from being crushed. The monster wasn’t done, snapping him around as a dog would a toy. Until it let go, sending him flying towards a tree just as the aura around his body began to fade. Acting quickly, Rael send their water to catch him.

Nirk slammed into the water with a crack, exploding the construct and releasing Rael’s spell over it. He kept going, rolling head over heel into the dirt, coughing up water. Rael almost breathed a sigh of relief, ignoring Kip’s hand clenching their shoulder.

The demon had stopped rolling around, having crushed or cut over a dozen of those unfortunate enough to celebrate its death too early. All that was left was some sort cross between a blind pangolin and a snake, swelling bigger and bigger.

“Duck and cover!” Rael warned, pulling all those nearby to the ground and clenching their eyes shut.

“Fortify!” Edith called a moment later, spurring spells to be hurled all around. Palisades of wood, ice, light, and earth were erected. Some were too late. A hail of sharp scales exploded in every direction, tearing through flesh and bone of the unprepared. The plates dug into the hastily summoned walls, sometimes piercing through them completely and maiming those behind. After the storm of scales thudded into every possible surface, the sound was replaced by the cries of the injured. Real opened up an eye, heart thumping in their chest as they stared into their own reflection in the glossy scale that had embedded into the earth right by their head.

‘Too close. Need some sort of shield spell.’

Rael jumped up. ‘If this thing is smart enough to play dead, its smart enough to retreat. I’m not going through this bull again.’

Just as they suspected, the diminished demon, now looking more like a fat worm, was slithering back towards the tunnel. Adrenalin still pumping, Rael pulled out the scale besides them, running towards the demon. It seemed to slither away more desperately. It swerved around to take a bite out of them, but Rael had expected this. Edith and Derrol made more convincing feints. Rael lodged its own scale into its jaws, slipping their arms away in case it broke. The worm struggled in rage, unable to break its own scale. Rael, in a panicked daze, began casting.

“[Hydrokinesis].”

The blades of water reformed, a dull ache manifesting in Rael’s mind and body as they cast another spell at the same time, struggling to stay awake from the strain.

“[Minor Cut].”

A light gleamed on the edges of Rael’s Tome-dagger and the blades of water, Rael desperately slicing into the demon’s now unarmored body. Cut after cut, from Rael’s own hand or from the water, dug into the monster body, hot sprays of blood erupting outwards. Rael could hear people yelling, but they kept tearing into the demon.

‘It has to die. It has to stay dead. Die, die, DIE!’

Finally, someone pulled Rael back. They blinked the red liquid from their eyes, the red haze dissipating. Their limbs felt weak, their mouth dry. The muffled voices slowly cleared up until Rael could hear them again.

“It is done.” Edith put a calming hand on their head. Rael turned, and Edith nodded her head, cocking it towards the rest of the demon’s body. As Rael was digging into its head, more warriors had come, shoving spears deep into its form. Rael finally allowed themselves a moment to relax, collapsing on their butt and releasing a shuddering breath. Edith pulled three fingers from the top of their head and trailed it down to their glabella. “You’ve done well, though you have much to learn.”

Rael looked over their arms. They’d lost some muscle mass. Not a lot, but enough to be noticeable. “How could I have done better?” Rael asked themselves, their lightheadedness bringing the words forth.

“Finally.” Shieldmaiden Edith smirked and sat down besides Rael. They looked at her quizzically. “All the times we fought, and you never asked.”

“Ugh.” Rael hung their head between their knees. “Is this another lesson? ‘Don’t be afraid to ask for help?’”

“Yes.” Edith guffawed, motioning for the watching Faulk to give them space. For once, though, the Faulk did not leave. Rael looked to the expectant gazes. “It was a good kill.” Edith cleared her throat. “There are typically words to go with such a victory.”

Rael cast an eye about the injured, the weary, and the bloody.

“I’m glad the fucker’s dead.”

That was it. The warriors looked to one another, whispers of disappointment trickling through the crowd. Kip nudged Rael and cocked his head in their direction. He mouthed three words: ‘boasting, honor, mead.’ Rael suppressed a sigh and felt that even rolling their eyes would strain their sore…everything.

“When we get to the Stone Circle, we can hold our heads high. We are demon slayers!” Rael even felt winded raising their voice. There were a few small cheers from that last statement. “And…uh…drinks are on me when we get there!”

This time, the cheer was deafening.

The work began immediately. The injured had already gone through triage, and all those who could heal were helping them. A few had over-extended themselves like Rael had, laying on the blood-soaked ground to recuperate. The most able bodied tended to the dead; going to their bodies and clipping off bits of their hair while ensuring their hands still held their weapons. Others began dismantling the demon’s body and collecting its scattered pieces. Rael, Kip, and Edith sat by the corpse.

“How did I mess up?” Rael asked, basking in the little light that breached the fog above.

“Three ways:” Edith held up a finger. “You have Ruen and Bjorn’s memories, their mastery of weapons included. Yet you ran in with nothing more than a knife. Worse yet, a knife that, if broken, would render you incapable of casting spells. You saw what happened to Kip and I when our Tomes were destroyed.”

“I don’t like swords, spears, or axes.” Rael grumbled, leaning into their knees. “I fight with my fists.”

“Each tool fits for each job. Though I admit, it would have been risky for you to rely on unfamiliar instincts.” Edith lifted a second finger. “Your spells, while impressive, were wasteful. I understand you have some sort of foundation water spell, but you have to learn to use spells more efficiently. You’ve lost muscle, you’re weak, and you’re exhausted. If we had a battle after this one, you’d be dead. Or worse, holding back the others.”

         Rael huffed and nodded.

         “The most fatal mistake.” The shieldmaiden held up a third finger. “You knew about it. When you saw it, you were first to recognize it. Not just what it was, but how it fought.”

         Rael froze. She knew.

         “That information could have saved lives…but I will not fault you for it. I don’t think you expected to see a demon again.”

         “I knew it.” Kip whispered, pointing a finger into Rael’s face. “You were on the ship. You survived the demon attack four months ago.”

         “Stop.” Edith warned in a dark tone she’d never used with Kip before. Kip shut up.

         “Jarl Feldon suspects why you are so…closed off to us. This is not just some southerner animosity born from a generational grudge.”

         “For the record,” Rael mumbled, “A Faulk raid did kill my great-grandfather and most of his family.”

         “And you’ve shown a stunning care for your blood-related kin.” Edith’s sarcasm was thick. “No, this is a grudge based on ideals, ones that you think we have. Feldon recognized the look in your eyes. Someone who has seen the wrong end of a whip, felt the bite of manacles.”

         Rael growled. It was as if every secret they had was plucked away, layer by layer.

         Kip sucked in a breath. “You were a—”

         “Another word, skald, and I will break your fingers.” Edith stood up, looming over Kip.

         ‘Skald?’

         Kip’s features faded away, revealing a sheepishly smiling Skald Meayetti.

         “When did you figure it out?” She nervously paced backwards.

         “Why would I tell you?” Edith scowled. “So you can better learn to sneak into conversations with people who’ve risked life and limb together?”

         “Can’t fault a girl for trying.” Meayetti shrugged.

         “I can. I’m willing to let you and your merry troupe continue borrowing our transportation if you swear not to reveal anything you’ve learned without Rael’s permission.” Edith approached Meayetti, a full two heads taller than the spindly woman.

         “Okay, okay!” The skald raised her hands in surrender. “I swear.”

         “Good. Now run along.” Edith crossed her arms and watched Meayetti scurry away. Once she had disappeared into the crowd of Faulk heading back to the village, the Shieldmaiden sat back down. “Clear and firm. That’s how you deal with nosey skalds.”

         “Ah.”

         The two of them sat there a few more moments, Rael too tired to deal with all the churning thoughts in their head.  Rael settled on exhausted indifference.

         “It was the accent, wasn’t it?”

         “And the way he walked, the fact he didn’t rush into battle, and being more bearable to be around.”

         “He is annoyingly cheerful.” Rael let out a small laugh.

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