Sore muscles can’t disrupt the satisfaction Alkara feels after clearing out another infestation of longclaws. She lay on her cot, nestled in with Guen and staring at the ceiling. The panther preens herself. Even those small jostling movements do nothing to disturb Alkara.
Uncle Iro had found the teleportation circle destroyed, but that did not mean the area was safe. Instead he’d found the foul Depths creatures. Likely the fungal infection encouraged their departure from those underground tunnels.
Every few weeks they find more Aberrants with the fungus. Whatever it is spreads faster than a misheard rumor. Alkara mulls through the various ideas Dre and Chiron had suggested. And her own, though she gives them less importance.
Having only found these Longclaws today meant that they weren’t likely the original carriers. Chiron guessed that the mushrooms were Urdima’s way to fight back without effort. The idea holds merit. Even Uncle Iro had stopped in his chores to frown at the thought. Dre’s autopsies show a targeted infection, always in the brain.
With the connections between some of the infected Aberrants, the idea that someone was doing this on purpose wove itself in and out of the conversation. But what could be infecting them? Another Aberrant?
The theories slowly morph into a stream of muddled options. Alkara loses track of them and retreats into her own thoughts, laying on her cot letting the guesses chase each others’ tails.
Ugh, this isn’t helping. I’m not going to figure it out by repeating the words over and over.
Alkara turns to one side. Her gaze settles on her bow and pack. A small trinket hangs from a buckle. Tharan had purchased one of the dinner utensils and forged it into a combination bell and bow. The food hadn’t filled her to bursting as she’d expected. Instead each of the courses had satisfied but hadn’t overwhelmed. And though she’d given the utensils a solid effort, she often seized whatever morsel it was and plopped it right in her mouth.
And then they’d bid each other farewell. A night of revelry and enjoyment, however hidden by Tharan’s porcelain expression, buoyed her spirits. That is until they’d embraced. He still wouldn’t–
This is ridiculous
Alkara snaps to a sitting position. Guen yowls and adjusts before going back to licking her fur. Alkara shakes her head and stalks to Uncle Iro’s door. She calms herself just enough not to pound on the door but instead knocks.
“Come in Alkara,” Uncle Iro’s voice sneaks out from his room.
He always knows who’s knocking.
Alkara swings the door open with a steady hand, keeping it from slamming into the wall. “Um, Uncle Iro, something has been bothering me.”
Her adoptive uncle sits at the edge of his bed, picking bits of viscera from his ringmail and wiping it with a rag. “Mm?” He doesn’t look up.
Alkara steps into the room, easing the door closed. “Something’s been bothering me. And I was wondering if you knew… uh…”
“How very enigmatic.” Uncle Iro shows a wry grin before returning to cleaning the armor.
“Huh?”
“What’s bothering you?”
Alkara scrunches her face up and rubs her hands against her legs. “Oh, uh. It’s about Tharan.”
Uncle Iro nods and tosses the rag onto the mail. “I see.” He dips his hands into a water bowl. His gaze flicks to the doorway behind Alkara, then back.
“It’s silly,” Alkara fiddles with her braid. “It’s really not that big of a deal.” A dry warmth spreads onto her cheeks.
“Big enough to come in here.” Uncle Iro chuckles. The sound floats around her like a comforting blanket. “Spit it out girl.”
By Urdima, her face burns! Alkara swallows and tries to soothe herself with a deep breath. It doesn’t help. “Well, I mean we’ve been courting for almost [four months] now and… well…”
“If you’re about to ask me when he’s going to bed you, you’re better off asking Tharan.”
Chiron, somehow behind her, bursts into laughter.
Tension jolts Alkara’s shoulders as she jumps. She hadn’t thought her face could get hotter. She was wrong. Even her forehead burns. “Urdima’s Grace!” She chokes out. “No! No he hasn’t even kissed me!”
“Mmmm, I understand why that would bother you.” Uncle Iro moves to Chiron and clasps his shoulder. “Well then, looks like the Moon’s revealed the werewolf, Chiron. Though you did perform admirably. Since you’re up, go make yourself useful with the laundry.”
Alkara buries her face in her hands, trying with all effort to put the embarrassment to rest. Chiron’s snickering fades from the room.
Uncle Iro laughs under his breath. Alkara can’t be sure if it’s at her expense or Chiron’s antics. Or both. “It is curious though,” Uncle Iro says. He leans against the doorway. “He waited long enough to propose. Perhaps it’s his way. Why do you think he’s waiting?”
Alkara snorts. “He wouldn’t even have proposed when he did if I hadn’t–” She stops mid-sentence and rolls her eyes. Uncle Iro’s grin grows wider. Alkara groans. “He’s waiting for me?”
Uncle Iro shrugs. “You know him better than I. It could be.” He nods, “That’s where I’d put my wager.”
Chiron enters the room with an armful of laundry. Alkara hadn’t even heard him return, let alone leave to pull the clothes off the line. “My money’s on Alkara’s, ahem, aroma.” Chiron grins as he drops the pile onto Uncle Iro’s bed.
Uncle Iro chucks a piece of charcoal at Chiron. “Keep it down, Chiron.” Humor fills the reprimand.
Chiron ‘ows’ in a muted fashion, more startle than pain. He snickers again as he exits.
Alkara pulls her tunic away from her armpit and sniffs. Her shoulders slump despite not smelling anything odd. It’s far from the first comment about how she smells. The compulsion and desperate need to feel clean after that night with Ven had faded, but she’d still been bathing more regularly. Alkara fiddles with the brain again, nibbling her bottom lip.
Is it still that bad? Tharan never said anything. Does he not mind? Or is he too polite to say something. Dorië had certainly tried to hide wrinkling his nose.
“It’s unenviable, falling in love with someone a fraction of your age.” Uncle Iro stares into the main room with a faraway gaze. He chuffs. “Finding comfort in someone whose lifespan is bittersweet.” He turns back to Alkara, returning from whatever memory had swept him up. “And Tharan is of the Doësin. Their sensibilities slow the progress of relationships.” Uncle Iro reaches into the pile of clothes and folds a worn but well cared for tunic.
Alkara nods into the silence that envelops them, sinking into her thoughts. Almost everything about her breaks those sensibilities. Loud and abrasive where they reserve their inclinations. Unkempt compared to careful decorum. She smirks to herself, wondering at what qualities Tharan had found in her to even consider a proposal.
Alkara snorts, muttering, “Delusional.”
Uncle Iro arcs his brows, leaving little room for his forehead. “You may be.” He smiles at his wit before shaking his head with a small frown. “What I don’t understand is why you haven’t said yes.”
“Yeah, Alkara.” Chiron pops in again from the darkness of the main room. “I’ll buy you some licorice cachous so he’ll be more inclined to smooch when you agree.”
Heat flares again in Alkara’s cheeks. She slaps at Chiron, but he dances away. Alkara huffs and turns back to her adoptive uncle. “I just… I’m not ready yet. You said to be sure he was worth it.”
“I did. You needed to consider the situation, not paralyze yourself with doubt and uncertainty.” He drops a tunic down onto the half-finished pile. “In many ways it’s like hunting. You could keep your arrow nocked, awaiting that perfect opportunity to draw back and release. And then the deer saunters away, never in any real danger. Don’t let perfect be the enemy of fulfilling. So… what are you waiting for?”
“I… well…” Alkara throws her hands up. “I don’t know.”
“Alkara…” Iroshi leaves the clothes to stand before her. “Don’t make the same mistake Sengmar made.”
Tears well in Alkara’s eyes. She stares at the ground between Uncle Iro’s feet. It’s too much. A tear rolls down her cheek and leaps toward the ground.
Uncle Iro grasps her shoulders and pulls her into an embrace. He doesn’t say anything, only holds her in silence. Years of guidance and admonitions wiggle through Alkara’s mind.
She sniffs and pulls away after a time. The muscles in her lower jaw twitch and she grimaces to stifle them. Alkara nods, more to herself than Uncle Iro, “I won’t.”
Uncle Iro searches her face in a mixture of discernment and empathy, then gestures to the main room with a tilt of the head. “Get back to bed.” He arcs his eyebrows at Chiron, “Both of you. You’re out in the Wastes tomorrow. You need the rest.”
Out of sync, Chiron and Alkara both murmur, “Yes, uncle.” Their day trip to one of the southern watchtowers likely won’t bring them into contact with anything dangerous, but neither bother to argue the point. Complacency leads to death in the Wastes.
Alkara settles into her cot with a reproachful glance from Guen as the great cat shuffles to accommodate her. The ceiling stares back at her, unblinking. She turns to one side to escape that glare and flits between closing her eyes and blinking at the growing weariness.
Sleep flees from her. Chased across her mind not unlike a quarry faster than her sprint. Eventually it will turn and chase her instead, when the fatigue overcomes the desire for peace and forces a nightmare.
Scattered images of blood and viscera greet her once sleep envelops Alkara. The chase becomes all too vibrant. Vivid within a world of half-threads and summoned monstrosities. Pained yells echo from within twisting halls. She finds bodies of fallen allies, some with faces nearly recognizable. But a blood-curdling scream pierces her awareness. This one real.
Alkara blinks at the darkness. Guen’s shadowy form paces in front of the door. Alkara rubs at her eyes with one hand while grabbing her quiver.
Chiron rolls from his cot and grabs for his sword belt.
A thick grunt of complaint announces Dre’s waking.
Another scream charges into the room.
Uncle Iro sprints through the common room and throws the door open, sword in hand.
Before a quarter candle would have burned, the Waste Walkers fly into the night.
Near-silent homes watch their passing. Shutters hide the darkened interiors. Few look outside. No doors open. As the Walkers sprint the screams grow in frequency, but no returning whistle or shouts of alarum meet them. The city guard likely aren’t near enough. Or they’ve decided whatever is happening isn’t worth dealing with.
Having thrown themselves into the situation quickly, they lack their full kit. Chiron has his swords, of course, and likely a boot dagger. Alkara had only time to grab her quiver and bow plus a small pouch with reagents for Guen. With most of her supplies on a bandolier and pack, Dre carries most of her gear. She only lacks her leather jerkin. Uncle Iro wields his rapier and a small pouch, probably full of focus components.
Anxiety starts to mix with the pre-fight focus, sharpening Alkara’s senses further. Her family is vulnerable. Have to be careful.
Guen slinks along behind Chiron. The panther could outpace him, but keeping to the shadows is more useful. The sleek black coat marks her against the uneven daub, but within the alleyways she blends into the darkness.
The Walkers round a corner and halt. Ahead, Chiron squats near a building. A huge mass of fur hunches a half dozen paces away. Dirt and mud mat the dark brown fur. The creature digs at a depression in the ground, tearing clods of dirt with easy swipes.
The building beyond the creature stands disfigured, a gaping hole in one wall. Daub and bits of wood lay scattered around the opening. Sobs drift out from within.
The aberrant twists its head oddly, holding one vicious claw waist high while clawing absently with the other. No eyes peer out from the face. Instead a mass of smooth pink tendrils dart through the air. Blood drips off the Brain Badger’s fangs.
Alkara crouches next to Chiron. The creature, with its odd behavior, poses no immediate threat. “It’s a Brain Badger. When we get close it’ll make our thoughts fuzzy.”
Uncle Iro nods in agreement, joining them with Dre. The panther must have found some shadow to disappear within, because Alkara can’t find her.
The Badger mutters in an incoherent language. It swipes the empty air above the dirt as though digging.
Dre points to the creature’s head. “It’s one of our mushroom friends.” Burns and broken stalks of mushrooms project from the back of the Badger’s head where blood cakes the fur.
Chiron grits his teeth. “What about the blood on its mouth? Did our new friend find a late night snack?”
“I–” Alkara’s voice catches. She swallows but it sticks in her throat like molasses. “They like to eat–”
“Babies,” Iroshi finishes.
Chiron’s expression chills into a hardened glare. “How do we kill it?” He asks too loudly, with an edge to his voice Alkara hadn’t heard before.
She wonders at it but the Badger draws her attention by snuffling the air again. After a few head tilts it returns to its lethargic dig.
Uncle Iro lowers himself to one knee. “Brain Badgers have the typical vulnerabilities. Hit its brain or major organs and it’ll die. The creature’s eye rays are a soft spot. And the fungal growth always weakens the skull.” He draws an X into the dirt and a few spots. He points at one near a rectangle, “Chiron, I want you here. Stay sharp and keep from its claws.”
Alkara nods along and adds, “It also has significant mental abilities.” She quirks her mouth. “It can attack who you are.”
Dre leans in, “What does that mean?” She speaks at a much lower volume than the others.
Alkara shrugs, “The text didn’t go into detail.”
Iroshi gestures to the rectangle again. “Chiron, go check on the family. Once you’ve gotten them to safety get to this point.”
Chiron presses his lips together. “We can do that after we kill it.”
“Yes, but it’s better to have a little chat with it first. I’ll find out what I can.” Uncle Iro considers Chiron. Something in that expression registers as concern. “It’s not threatening anyone right now. We need to make sure that if it becomes aggressive, the family is safe.” He points to two more dots drawn into the dirt. “Alkara, here. Dre, here. Be prepared.”
Chiron clenches his jaw and stares at the Badger. A long moment passes before he nods. He stands, drawing up to his full height, and stalks toward the building. His path takes him closer to the Badger than neccesary.
Alkara breathes a sigh of relief when the Badger doesn’t react. Once Chiron walks into the building Uncle Iro steps forward.
“Guen!” Alkara hisses into the night. The panther emerges from the darkness. Without blinking, Alkara rubs a paste of tree bark and dill into Guen’s fur. The cat wrinkles her nose and puts a paw on Alkara’s hand. “I know girl…” She presses her forehead against Guen’s. “I’m sorry but this will help keep you safe.”
And everyone else.
Guen puts her paw down but yowls with indignation. Alkara can’t blame Guen’s reluctance. The paste doesn’t smell good to Alkara, and the cat’s nose is much more sensitive. Alkara breathe in deeply and focuses Urdima’s energy into the paste. The paste causes Guen’s claws to grow. The panther’s stature builds. Even the skin under the fur hardens. Last is the area around her eyes. With that fur coated the panther’s eyes glow with silvery light.
Uncle Iro walks toward the Brain Badger. “Greetings!” His cheek twitches and he jerks his head to the side. “What should I call you, Lobnoth?” After his last step his body tenses.
Alkara tenses as well, ready to jump in the moment it might try to attack her Uncle.
The Brain Badger wrenches its head in odd directions before turning toward Uncle Iro. Its eye rays twist in the air, sniffing out like a snake’s tongue. The lower jaw extends as though unhinged. It doesn’t speak. Instead a presence fills Alkara’s mind. “Another mage? Why won’t I be left alone?” Each concept drills into Alkara’s mind with a buzz.
Alkara frowns at Dre, checking if Dre heard it too. The alchemist raises her eyebrows.
Another mage..?
Uncle Iro chuckles. “Yes, I understand the desire for solitude. It brings peace. Who was this mage?”
“Iga . . . Igadal”
“Mm.” Uncle Iro nods, “Where is Igadal? In the building?”
“Dead wizard. Not good.”
“Did you kill him?”
“His magic ruined his . . . body.”
There’s a longer, awkward pause. Alkara edges closer. A sensation of thousands of needles prickling her brain startles her. She retreats. The tome’s description of the mental assault had undersold the feeling. Alkara squeezes an eye closed to try to ward off the aftereffects. She wonders at Uncle Iro, who must be feeling the effects doubly or trebly so. Her chest tightens. She may need to grab Uncle Iro whether the Brain Badger attacks or not.
Uncle Iro closes his eyes. The tendons in his jaw tighten. “Why were you with Igadel?”
The creature paws at its own head. Stalks and blood drop to the ground. “Kill wizzard. Get book. Eat no–” It ‘looks’ at Uncle Iro, eye rays waggling. “But they taste so good when young.”
Iroshi nods. He grunts and staggers back but rights himself before continuing. “Why retrieve the book?”
“Books have notes.” Somehow the buzzing grows in strength. “Alchemy and labra-lab-labratory.”
“Which laboratory?”
The Badger tears at the earth, digging outside of its previous circle. “Labortory.”
Uncle Iro’s shoulders constrict. “Who told you to retrieve these books?”
“Big brother.”
“Another Lobnoth?”
The creature pauses its excavation. The rays go wild as a sickly pop announces the arrival of a sword through the Badger’s abdomen. “Arghhhh!”
Alkara winces against the telepathic shout. She slams her hands against her ears, which does no good. She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, but then forces herself to look.
Uncle Iro lurches back. The Brain Badger turns toward the house and the rays explode into dozens of gooey tendrils streaking out in an aimless array.
Chiron stands on that side, draped in shimmering shadows. He grips his forehead with one hand while pulling at the sword with another. The branching goo tendrils cover him in a random pattern. He reels backward, losing grip on the sword and landing in the dirt.
The Badger turns back on the others, still screaming in Alkara’s head.
Dre throws a clay pot into the ground near the creature. It breaks to release a pinkish haze.
The Badger sniffs and jerks its head from the mist. One claw droops.
Alkara looses arrows as Uncle Iro strides forward. Her arrows slam into the Badger’s flesh.
The aberrant twitches its eye rays at Uncle Iro and a purple aura envelops his head.
Uncle Iro stoops and drops his rapier. Weeds and grass wither where the blade touches.
“Get uncle Iro out of there!” Alkara calls over her shoulder to Dre.
Guen launches herself onto the Badger. The enlarged panther knocks the creature to the ground. She rakes at the thing with her hindclaws while gripping with the front.
Golden light flares from the Badger’s eye rays. Blood gushes from the creatures abdomen where the panther’s claws leave huge furrows.
The Badger struggles to bring its own claws to bear on Guen. It’s slow claws tear into empty air.
Alkara pauses in her volley, waiting for Guen to get clear.
Uncle Iro staggers to the side. Dre dashes to him and helps him away from the fight. Pain locks his face into a grimace.
Chiron pushes himself to his feet, most of the tendrils ripped clear. He scowls at the thing wrestling with Guen.
The panther twists and maneuvers to keep on top of the aberrant. She bites where she can, pinning the Badger.
Chiron sweeps his sword off the ground and plunges it into the creature’s skull, just where the fungus grows. Its struggling subsides as Chiron twists the blade in the wound.
Guen rakes the thing’s body once more before leaping away. The panther licks at the blood but gags at whatever mixture of taste it creates with the paste Alkara had applied.
With the Badger dead, Alkara releases the channel of Urdima’s power. The panther shrinks. Uncle Iro shakes his head. His face twitches as the purple haze dissipates. He steps away from Dre’s support and staggers to the home’s wall. He gives the Brain Badger’s body a quick glance as he passes.
Chiron’s hand tightens around his sword until his hand turns pale. He clenches his teeth and slashes at the prone form. Blood sprays across the ground.
Uncle Iro enters the house, joining the soft sobs. His voice rises above the crying to drift into the street. He sings, “A pall upon our Urda/whispers in the gloom.”
Dre joins Chiron at the corpse just as he chops into it again. Blood spatters her boots. “Chiron, stop.” Her voice is even, a pale comparison to Uncle Iro’s. “I want to study it.”
“We live among the memories/fading to our tomb.”
Chiron glares at Dre. Without looking he cuts deep into the Badger until it stops with a soft clink. Chiron struggles with the blade. After a few attempts he snarls and whips around. Chiron stalks away, kicking loose gravel in the road.
Alkara watches Chiron for a few moments with frown pasted onto her expression. Dre sighs, looking at the Badger’s massive body. She takes hold of an arm and pulls on it. Dre grunts and strains, but despite her effort she makes precious little progress in moving the thing.
“This mournful song/Call to the lost”
“This mournful song/We bear the cost”
Dre huffs and drops the Badger’s arm. She turns to Guen with a smile, “You want to help, don’t you?”
The panther sniffs at the body and slinks toward an alley.
Alkara steps toward Chiron, an uneasy tremble in her gut. She touches his arm, “Chiron–”
“What?!” He snaps, jerking away from Alkara. “What do you want?”
Alkara pulls away, tears gathering like stormfronts. “Nothing! You just– are you okay?”
“Outside the lost shall pass/Given to the loam”
“I’m fine,” He squeezes out through gritted teeth.
Dre pulls at the thing’s arm again but makes even less progrees in dragging it. “Alkara, have Guen help me drag the body back home?”
Alkara turns with brow creased and gestures at Chiron with the tilt of her head.
“Please?”
“Dark’n clouds join our tears/ Finding their new home.”
Alkara blinks a few times and shakes her head at Guen. “Yeah, sure Dre.” Guen looks at her pitifully. “I know Guen, be quick and it’ll be over soon.”
The panther yowls but pads over to the body. She bites into the shoulder and tugs it along toward home.
Alkara winces at a tearing sound. Chiron rips at something.
“Return to your new home/ Leaving us alone.”
Chiron tosses shredded grass to the ground. He stomps to the badger, rips his sword from the abdomen and chops into the thing’s neck. “Just what we need! Another dead monster making the house reek like an overused whorehouse. Whatever would we do without you, Dre?”
“Hey!” Alkara shouts and steps in front of Chiron. Fire burns in her belly, incinerating the unease. “What’s your problem? She’s not hurting anyone!”
Chiron sneers, “Sure. Since we killed it.” He gestures with the sword at Dre. “She’d have us take it alive if she could, even if it meant risking more children.”
“That’s not true!” Alkara insists.
“Isn’t it?” He turns and glares at Dre, whose head is down, trying to stuff the head into her bag.
“Spirit lain in repose/ Grieving from what’s sown.”
Chiron steps to within an arm’s length of Alkara. “And you’re not any better.” He spits on the ground in front of her. “You and your high horse. Risking our lives just to stick it to Kierra.” He waves his sword with dangerous closeness. “And for what?! How much of a difference have you made? Are you happy we’ve got big targets on our backs? You might as well shoot us yourself.” He snarls to end the tirade.
Alkara face flushes and she flinches away.
Dre looks up from her trophy. “Chiron, stop it. You know–”
“Maybe that’s it. Maybe that prissy elf hasn’t kissed you because he’s decided you’re more trouble than you’re worth.” Chiron jabs a finger at Alkara. “Important guy like him has plenty on his plate without–”
“Enough.” Uncle Iro emerges from the home holding a tattered book. “Chiron, that’s enough.”
Chiron stares at Uncle Iro with the same hatred he gave the Brain Badger. He bristles, lip quivering with the next caustic retort.
Tears prick at Alkara’s eyes. A chill extinguishes the fire in her gut. A lonely tear rolls down her cheek.
Uncle Iro returns Chiron’s glower with a mournful softness. He takes Chiron by the shoulder. “Come now, Chiron. Let’s help your sisters get home. Afterward we’ll go for a walk.”
Chiron swipes Uncle Iro’s hand off his shoulder. “They’re not my sisters. You’re not my uncle. And I’ll go for a walk whenever I damn well please.” He crunches rocks as he trudges away.
Wide-eyed, mouth open, Alkara stands with her breath caught. She starts as something nuzzles her hand, but it’s only Guen. She gulps in a forlorn breath. More tears streak down her face.
Dre looks at the book in Uncle Iro’s hand.
Uncle Iro sighs, the weight of it pulls at his shoulders. “Let’s get home, then I’ll track him down.” He surveys the sisters. Uncle Iro pulls Alkara into a quick hug. “Come on, sooner we get home the better.” He gives her a peck on the forehead and appraises Dre before nodding and setting off.
Uncle Iro’s words barely reach Alkara’s ears, and make it no further. She doesn’t even return the hug. She falls in behind Dre as they walk home.
At home, She collapses into bed and rolls onto her side. Guen pads onto the bed and snuggles in, yowling when Alkara misses the usual ear scritches.
As she pulls the blanket over her shoulders and waits for the nightmares, all she can hear is Chiron’s voice.
Maybe he’s decided you’re more trouble than you’re worth.