It was easy to gather volunteers to test out the drums, Rick just needed to get a beat going and the crude rhythm would draw others to see what was going on. From there, it was easier still to get volunteers to help with the music.
Getting them to learn some basics and coordinate was not. But the one advantage drums presented was that you could just have someone repeat the rhythm over and over and you’d have something passable.
But the bonus was the line of volunteers to take the spot of any who grew tired. The younger ones were the most enthusiastic with the bigger drums, trying out irregular beats that would sometimes inspire or spur others in the lineup to try something of their own.
With a system in place, he left them to their own devices for the time being. The party preparations were underway, and he wanted to look around.
Like how the red-headed green-skinned Hobgoblins would take the trees that’d been chopped down, strip the branches and bark away, and then carefully ignite it. And just like all things maiden, it wasn’t a normal fire. They would do so by caressing the bark with glowing palms, leaving trails of searing red splinters in their wake, a glow that would spread and slowly ignite the rest of the wood.
The whole thing looked like rivers of lava running parallel to the ground and consuming the logs from one side to the other.
Sheel was the one overlooking the whole endeavor. The older Hobgoblin would glare down every tree until certain it met whatever criteria she was testing for. Sometimes she’d poke the tree, other times just touch it. Most times nothing happen, but once or twice the whole thing would crackle like lightning.
“This’ rushed.” She pointed at the chunk of glowing wood. “Take a rest.”
The Hobgoblin in question sighed, slumping down and nodding as she wandered off.
“What’s the problem with it?” Rick asked, keeping a safe distance.
“Father.” Sheel eyed him for a moment, nodding to herself. “The fire’s too tight. It’ll break out.”
Rick took a cautious step back.
She chuckled. “Not that big, but a human could lose an arm if too close.”
“Oh, pyrotechnics.” He perked up at the mention of potential explosions, eyeing the tree more carefully. “Can you cause the explosions intentionally?”
“Not making it blow is the hard part.” She frowned. “Why are you smiling?”
“Oh, no reason in particular.” His grin only grew. “How useful is it to make something blow up?”
Sheel rolled her eyes. “You're not gonna hurt a maiden with that paltry trick unless they don't see it coming.”
“Though that is an interesting point to keep in mind, I’m sure it’s nothing that can’t be compensated for with enough soap, nitric acid, sodium nitrol, and sawdust.” His smile was growing as he spoke. “But I’m getting a little off track. I was thinking of making things intentionally explode, but safely.”
“Explosions and safety don’t mix.” She put her hands on her hips. “Whatcha thinking about?”
“Is it possible to make something that goes off in a dazzling way, put it at the tip of a lance or spear, and for it to explode very high up?”
Sheel quirked a brow. “I’ve tried something like that to knock down flyers. Getting the timing right is too tricky to risk near humans.” She shrugged. “Besides, if we make that much noise, ferals are bound to show up thinking there’s a fight.”
“Why would that attract them?”
“Two maidens going at one another leaves two tired and vulnerable maidens, maybe even one dead one. Easy pickings.”
Rick nodded. “Then how about making it spew sparkly fire in a specific direction until it runs out?” He smiled a toothy grin, not dissuaded one bit. “Just put it into a container with a single exit hole, and the flame should be able to make it fly around until it runs out.”
“That looks like you want more than just some flying wood.”
“For now, try to see if you can make a small tube fly around, something to amuse.” His smile broadened. “And who knows, maybe one day we’ll be able to make larger ones fly too.”
“The Father speaks in riddles.” Sheel laughed, hands on her hips. “It is a curious idea. I will see about it.” She made a gesture at the pile of wood that’d been gathered at one edge of the clearing. “Just got to prep the wood for the meat.”
“I was meaning to ask about that.”
His gaze turned to the line of maidens that were processing Monica’s haul. The first Orc would gut and skin it, while the second and third rubbed the yellowish Polita drink before a fourth summoned water to wash it all off. From there, they would chop the carcass up and put the meat at the side.
He hoped the Polita juices helped not just with removing parasites but also toxins. Though if it wasn’t the case, Dia was sure to have made a hassle about it by now.
“I get the coals ready. Urtha is the best boar-cook in the tribe.”
There was a pregnant pause. Rick stared and blinked slowly. “I would not have guessed that.”
“She is very picky with meat.” She flinched the moment she’d spoken the words. “Maybe not the best topic right now.”
Rick considered that for a moment. Was he really content to just wait for Urtha to make a move when she was so close to going feral?
“You are close friends with her,” he said. “I’ve been having doubts about the whole thing.” He frowned slightly, grimacing. “I don’t think I’ll keep waiting for her.”
Sheel stiffened. “What?”
“I will probably cancel the whole thing tomorrow.” He continued, keeping his tone even. “I understand her reluctance, but…”
“You-” She met his gaze and shook her head. “Urtha has rocks for a skull, but she didn’t mean to-”
“I am not taking offense.” He raised his hands in appeasement. “But if she’d rather go feral, then it is clear I had the wrong impression of her.”
No sooner had he stepped away that Sheel swore under her breath and ran off. Rick let out a sigh of relief and nodded to himself. Hopefully, the Hobgoblin would get the large Orc to act. Even if it was just to cancel things, this will-she-won’t-she was something he had no more patience for.
With that out of the way, he meandered off to take one last look at the village. This was the last night they’d spend here. Tomorrow, they would be on their way to Sinco. Anything that wasn’t going along for the ride would be broken up and left for nature to reclaim.
The people of the tribe had gravitated towards the festival area, leaving the rest of the space relatively quiet. A silence that let him clear his head and just… walk. So many things had happened these past few weeks. He was now the leader of a tribe of maidens and had vague notions of taking over a small city.
The Rick from a year ago wouldn’t have been able to recognize him. Then again, that Rick had been neck deep in the emotional aftershocks of a crumbled long-term relationship.
Yet here he was, having gone through so much…
Something gnawed at him, drawing his attention to the present. It was from the bonds, a twinge of a feeling that caught his attention. For a moment, he almost missed it, but then focused. Noticing who was feeling what was hard, not least of which because most of the bonds he currently had were barely more than noise. But this was coming from Monica.
A desire for secrecy that oozed with guilt.
“Oh?”
He shifted to his tip-toes as he turned in the general direction he felt Monica.
It felt like playing a game. If he focused hard enough, he could sense Monica’s attention as it shifted. Whenever it spread outwards, he’d stop moving, slow his breathing and stop, and as it narrowed down, he’d advance. Bit by bit, step by step, until he was close enough he was sure she’d notice his presence if he got any closer.
So he stepped closer.
And she noticed. Her focus on him like a laser pointer aimed at his chest. A moment of panic followed, and then stillness. She was trying to hide, and she was good at it. Just looking around the inside of his hut would’ve made him think it was devoid of three-meter tall feline women.
But he knew better.
“Hm… I wonder…” He spoke out loud, looking up at the rafters, ignoring the feeling of her gaze prickling against his skin.
Rummaging about, Rick found the chair, and with its help, he boosted his height to reach up and carefully touch around in search of anything that might be hidden up there. Nothing but dust greeted him, but as he moved around the hut, he could sense Monica panicking.
So he used that to guide his search.
The more nervous Monica got, the closer he must be to whatever she’d hidden. She moved. Rick couldn’t see or hear the movement, but he sensed her rush out of the hut and double back.
“Rick?” the feline called from the outside, stepping through the door and pretending like she hadn’t been in there seconds ago.
“Hey Monica.” If she was playing pretend, then so would he. Besides, it was always good to have a trick or two up his sleeve. “Why aren’t you at the party? There’s lots of meat.”
Her tail flicked, ears twitching. “Loud.” She stepped closer, eyes flicking to the corner for a fraction of a second. “Why Rick here?”
“Oh, you know, just looking around.” He grinned. “Since we’re moving out in the morning, I just thought to make sure we’re not missing anything.”
“Monica help!”
He raised his hand and stopped her before she could get closer. “No worries, no worries, I can handle this on my own.” His fingers brushed against something that wasn’t wood or dust, a paper-like texture. He grinned. “Like say…”
He froze.
Held between his fingers was an empty chocolate wrapper. The paper had been exposed to the elements, partially bleached, dampened, and caked in dirt. The ink was smudged and impossible to read, but the bright colors of the Reese’s logo was impossible to mistake for anything else.
Monica fidgeted, looking away.
“Where…” Rick’s mouth dried, breath catching in his throat. “Where did you find this?”
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“Monica not know.” She quickly declared, turning away with a stiff tail, her ears flattened against her head. “Monica never find anything.”
He swallowed, his hands were shaking. “Monica.” His voice trembled, too many emotions running through his mind. “I need to know.”
The maiden squirmed. A creature of power, muscle, and destruction, that could flatten a person with barely effort. She fidgeted, shoulders slumping and tail drooping as she avoided his gaze. “Monica lie, Monica know.” Her mouth thinned, head falling as she stared at the ground. A slight pause, and a deep sigh. “Monica lie, big hunt… more than big hunt.”
His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“When Rick hungry, tell Monica hunt, Monica… find scent. Chocolate scent.” She shifted her head this way and that, ears flicking as she averted her gaze from Rick. “Scent to east.”
“East.”
He blinked slowly. East. Towards the forest. No, not just that. He frowned as he tried to recall the details of that day. The feline bolting off… she’d headed south, and then east? East where the Neigix had come from, as well as the…
“The Angels.” He frowned. “You encountered those white-winged ferals, didn’t you?” She fidgeted, giving the briefest nod. Rick took a slow, calming breath. She’d startled the ferals, maybe killed a couple, scared them off. “And then?”
“Then Monica… go more East.”
“More? Into the woods?” She nodded again. She was still nervous. What was she hiding?
She squirmed a little, somehow shrinking further as she nodded. “Monica find chocolate.”
He glared at her with a deadpan. “And…?”
“Monica eat chocolate.” She blurted out. “All chocolate.” Her ears drooped. “Monica sorry.”
He blinked twice, glancing down at the piece of paper. “That’s… it? That’s all? Did you encounter anyone? Anything?”
She appeared equally surprised, shrugging. “Chocolate was trap, with hole.” The maiden glanced him a bit, apparently having found what she was looking for, she preened. “But Monica fast and smart.”
Rick’s brow creased. “Did you…” Was it possible? “Did you see anyone? Smell any humans near or around the trap?” Why would someone put up a trap up? To catch ferals?
When they’d crashed into this world, it had been a busload of people. Many died in that deep forest of impossibly tall trees. As far as he’d known, everyone who’d survived had been part of the group he’d brought to that tiny village. But he’d heard from his fellows there’d been at least one other that had made it out alive.
“Trap empty.” The feline was looking at him intently. “Important?”
“Maybe, I don’t know.”
The eastern forest, a massive expanse of trees, and the deeper into it you went, the stranger and more dangerous it became. It was in that very forest that Monica had found him and the others. It was there where many of the students and parents that had come to the trip found a gruesome end.
If someone had survived and was still living in the forest, then there ought to be some wildling group operating there outside the kingdom’s grasp.
But that was something he couldn’t concern himself with right now. The expanse of land was too large to search, even with the tribe’s help. And there would be very little to gain.
“Why did you keep the wrapper?” He glanced at Monica, waving the piece of crinkled and torn paper at her.
She grimaced. “Still smell good.” She proclaimed, then pouted. “Rick… use? Make more?”
Snorting loudly, he shook his head. “You need some special plants to make chocolate.”
Monica perked up. “What plant?”
He eyed her suspiciously. “I am not telling you. You left without asking, and you put us in trouble.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “When the time comes, I’ll tell you about cocoa beans.”
The pout deepened. She gave him a long and mournful look.
“Ok, ok.” He scratched the back of his head. “Look, the plant that you need to make chocolate is unlikely to grow in this part of the world. If we get money, I will ask others to look for it.”
“Complicated?”
“But in a good way.”
She gave him a dubious look and nodded, snatching the chocolate wrapping from his grasp and reaching up to put it on the rafters of the hut. Without missing a beat, she wrapped her hands around his torso and lifted him off of the chair, walking away from the scene of the crime, and gently putting him on the ground near the hut’s entrance.
Monica glanced around for a moment, white feline ears flicking this way and that. “Urtha come.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell her about your chocolate.” He chuckled, squeezing her paw.
She gave him a grave nod. “Promise.”
“Promise.”
He chuckled, stepping outside.
The sky had turned orange, the last rays of light reaching the horizon and casting the village in long shadows. It was one such shadow that approached, tall and broad, her steps slow and steady. Urtha dragged the metal club with one hand, and a large sack with the other, shoulders squared and head held high.
There was anger in her yellowed eyes.
“Father.”
She stopped in front of the hut, ignoring Monica as the Sabertooth kept herself slightly in front of Rick, her paw pressed against his chest, her mouth turned into a snarl.
“Urtha.” He spoke the word slowly.
The Orc looked down at him, inhaling heavily, thick brows creased into a scowl.
“Spar with me.” Her voice was raspy and dry. “Show me how you fight when you’re not tied.”
Monica tensed, white claws emerging from her paws. Flickers of darkness lapped at her furry feet. Rick for his part considered the proposal. There was something she wanted to show him, or something she wanted to do. She and everyone knew Rick wouldn’t be able to hurt her, so this was a show or a test of some kind.
There were ways it could go wrong, but was it that likely with Monica nearby to jump in at the first sign of trouble? In exchange for the capitulation of the Orc? The one thought that came to mind was Dia and her concern. Was this really a risk he was willing to take?
“No.”
Urtha bared her tusks, lifting the metal club like it was paper mache. The snarl she let out was a rumbling of stones. “You are not a maiden.” She declared the obvious through clenched teeth.
She stepped closer.
In the growing darkness, he noticed the way her eyes were mostly unfocused, how her lips twitched and curled into a snarl and then smoothed out. She was fighting against the feral curse. How much of her mind had already been lost? It was clear there wasn’t much left before she lost that fight.
“I will not kneel,” she said. “It should be you who kneels. You are the weakling.”
There were several ways to go about this. Rick glanced at Monica’s back. She was the easier solution. The Orc was powerful, but there was no doubt in his mind the Sabertooth would win. The alternative was talking, but was Urtha even in the right state of mind to listen?
Which begged the question: what was her angle?
“Why did you mention kneeling?”
“It’s what you want.” She spat, using the metal club to point at him. “It’s how you bonded the others, and it’s what you want.” She bared her teeth. “I saw it in your eyes. Like everyone from the kingdom. You want me to kneel, you want me to be like the Fledgling or the Healer. You think you’ve cornered me, that I’m just someone to conquer. But I will not kneel to you! You’re no better than the Ghoul!”
Monica growled, stepping forward, and the club shifted to point her way instead.
The desire to fight hung in the air like a guillotine.
Yet the Orc’s posture was defensive. She held the club at the ready, but her hip was shifted away, half turned in the opposite direction. Her free arm had let go of the sack and was placed close to her chest. Her head kept him at the corner of her eye.
Urtha was afraid.
She was aware she could die at Monica’s hands if it came down to it. So why was she pushing this?
“How can you be bonded to him!?” The Orc snarled at the Sabertooth. “You don’t kneel, you don’t submit, and you’re stronger than any of us!”
Rick blinked.
That’s it.
“She trusts me, and I trust her.” He answered, stepping forward and putting himself next to Monica. “We’ve had each other’s backs from the start. The bond with Kiara isn’t different in that way. We each trusted the other would keep to their word.” Another step, now parallel to the feline. “You don’t trust me.”
The club remained pointed at the feline, but it wavered. “Of course I don’t trust you.” Urtha spat. “You take over, not even by your own strength. You poisoned the tribe! Truth spell be damned, that Succubus did some trickery!”
Her lack of evidence was meaningless to her conviction. Trying to refute the claim was unlikely to calm her down, because her certainty was based on gut instinct and distrust. No amount of logic would have her stop that.
But there had to be something more.
“What’s in the sack?”
Urtha hesitated for a moment, then snorted. “Your mistake.” She kept the club pointed at Monica, slowly leaning back and grabbing the sack and tossing it forward. The mouth was open, and with the thud, the content came out.
Rick recognized the dead maiden that slid out.
“She was the guard keeping an eye on the ferals.” Urtha spoke. “You took her collar, left her to go insane. When the tribe woke her, she came to me, told me everything.”
He looked at the corpse. Something was wrong. Kiara would’ve been smart enough to make the body disappear, Dia would have at least told him about it, Monica wouldn’t have hidden it. “Yet you killed her.”
“I want to know why you let her go feral.” Urtha snarled.
“You don’t care about what I did to her.” Rick frowned, raising his chin to meet her gaze. “Why would you care about my reasons?”
“ANSWER!” The Orc roared.
Monica flashed her fangs in warning, but Rick’s hand on her shoulder kept her from taking any action.
“Yasir is married to Ahina, and Ahina had gone feral in those very boxes. Putting the guard into the box was the most convenient way to satisfy his desire for revenge before it could grow and aim itself at the tribe. ” He stepped forward, glaring at Urtha. “And you killed her to protect the tribe too. Had she blabbed, then there would’ve been a potential split, something that we can’t afford.”
“Shut up.” She shifted the club, pointing it at him. “We are not the same. I-”
“I know.” Rick put his hand on the club. The thing was so heavy… some idle part of him wondered whether he could sit on the thing without Urtha even lowering it an inch. “But we both want what’s best for the tribe.”
Urtha didn’t move, jaw clenching tight.
“I might not crush bones with a flick of a finger.” Rick took a step to the side, keeping his hand on the cold metal club. “Or throw fireballs, or turn into shadows. I am weak.”
Another step forward. Behind him, Monica had gone deathly quiet. He could almost hear her muscles growing taut in preparation to pounce if Urtha made the tiniest movement. Underneath him, he could feel Eva’s emotions growing concerned from within his shadow.
“I need strength from others. I need strength from Monica, from Kiara, from Dia, from Eva… and now from the tribe. It is in my own best interests to make the tribe stronger.”
One more step. His fingers brushed against Urtha’s and her grip on the weapon.
She was rigid like a statue, glaring at him.
“Let me show you.” He met yellowed eyes, palm pressed against her large knuckles. “Follow me.”
Gently, slowly, he grasped at her finger. The club clambered to the ground, and with her sausage finger within his grasp, Rick walked towards the center of the tribe. Urtha with stiff steps, followed while Monica ghosted behind them, claws unsheathed and unblinking glare.
The area of the celebration had been lit up, flaming tree-trunks roughly marking the area with flickering light. Drums awkwardly hammered away, Goblins danced and clambered for their turn, Orcs gravitated around the instruments, mostly looking for their opportunity at the larger instrumental monstrosity, the other maidens mingled and danced away from the instruments, the maidens with sharper hearing occupying the extreme opposite of the space.
Food was exchanged, laughter and mingling and more than a few rowdy maidens starting some punch-out. The humans were gathered near the center of it all, surrounded by maidens in every direction. From time to time, someone would nudge someone else, and either maiden or human would break the circle to approach someone at the other side of the invisible border.
A loud explosion startled the crowd. All heads turned to the space outside the torch-lit perimeter. A group of Hogboblins hollered in laughter as one of them awkwardly shrunk and stepped away from the pile of wood. Another took her place and picked up one of the blocks. After a handful of seconds, the piece of wood spewed flames and flew straight at another of the Hobs, turning into smoldering ash before it reached its target.
“Does this look like something worth protecting?”
It was then that he felt it. A jolt that ran from where he was grasping Urtha’s finger and running all the way up into his chest. He turned to look at the Orc as she stared at the ongoing party.
Noticing his attention, the maiden turned to meet his gaze. A single tear ran down her cheek as the bond snapped into place. Both of them let out a small, quiet gasp and a shudder. Urtha quickly yanked her hand out of his grasp, rubbing the corner of her eye and coughing loudly.
“I… have to do, a thing, somewhere else.” She declared, turning to walk away.
From the corner of his eye, Rick spotted Sheel hurrying away from the Hobs in pursuit of the Orc. He mostly let out a sigh of relief and slumped down, feeling like he’d just shaved a decade off of his life.
“You look like you just did something dangerous.”
Dia whispered into his ear, poking his neck with an icy finger. Rick shrieked and jumped, turning to look at the chuckling healer and her overly smug grin. He’d been about to say something, but stopped as he got a good look at her. The Rapha wore the same leafy material the green-skins used, but it’d been fashioned into something approximating a sundress. Thin white silk ribbons worked as a belt and straps to the ensemble, with a ribbon holding her hair up into a bun.
Rick blinked twice.
“I’ll take the silence as a compliment,” Dia declared, fidgeting. “Have things with Urtha…?”
“Solved.” He nodded. “And you look just… wow.”
Her cheeks glowed, the color going all the way to her ears. “Would you like to dance?” She spoke, offering to take his hand. Rick accepted, and she yanked him off towards the gathering.
Rick glanced at Monica, the feline looking thoughtful before slinking off towards the Hobgoblins. He sensed Eva leaving his shadows and leaving, while Kiara was well above them, taking in the last bit of sunlight before night came.
With Dia at the lead, they danced, ate, and made merry until very late into the night.