Blood. The smell of blood drifted through the forest on the breeze, reaching the trio even before they caught a glimpse of the road. In the dark this forest had bruised and battered Aurgin, but now that she crept through it in the daylight she found it oddly spacious. Despite the light and the space, she felt the same cold dread that she had last night. Maybe if Aileen hadn’t been delirious she would be more cautious about going back.
The smell reached a fever pitch at the edge of the forest, the road in sight. The three slowed to a stop behind the screen of bushes and branches that fought for control of the open space. Aurgin could see the fear in Aileen’s eyes, and though Maker had a pre-built expression, Aurgin noticed the distinct hesitation in their movements. No one wanted to be the first to step out into the open.
“Well?” Aurgin asked. “What happened to ‘let’s go and see?”
Aileen gave her a flat look. Aurgin was not cowed.
“It’s awfully bright and sunny out there. Quiet, too. Only the wind to hear and the overpowering stench of blood to smell. What’re we waiting for?”
The three of them looked back at the road. The pleasant morning grew hot as Ankirat continued to climb. The occasional dead leaf tumbled to the ground, scratching at the dirt. The wind chilled the tiny beads of sweat on the back of Aurgin’s neck. Bushes rustled. The smell of blood did not lessen. After almost an hour of waiting, the tension broke Aurgin’s resolve.
“Fine, I’ll go first.”
Aileen followed her with an ashamed face, and behind her came Maker. Leading the way, Aurgin snuck out on her tiptoes, checking up and down the road as she did. With squinted eyes she scanned every branch, leaf, and tree-trunk in the canopy opposite her. No shadows moved. No screams split the air. Still, when the Mathuni turned to retrace their steps, she found her legs unwilling to go forward until Aileen went first. The three of them rounded the bend in the road with no small amount of apprehension.
The fallen log was still there, and littering the ground around it were pieces of Folk. Aurgin didn’t get a good look at the bandits the other night, so she was unsure what their heritages were. Now it was impossible to tell. Blood soaked the road, the fallen log, and the air. It was so thick Aurgin swore she could see a faint red haze around the grisly scene. Aileen whispered a prayer as they crept forward.
A closer look twisted Aurgin’s stomach. The Folk here were not just eviscerated, something had ensured that no skin was left on the remains. Deep grooves were carved into dirt, wood and stone alike. Wooden spears and bows had been hewn apart along with their wielders, and at the very center of the gore was a fragmented steel long-sword.
“What could’ve done this?” Aileen asked.
“I cannot recall anything that would be compelled to do this,” Maker said. “The undead ate or reanimated their victims.”
“Whatever it was, maybe it's nocturnal,” Aurgin guessed. “I don’t remember hearing it until long after Ankirat set. Maker, when did the noises stop?”
“Not long after the screams stopped. The Folkish screams.” The Sentenate said, correcting themself. To Aurgin’s astonishment Aileen walked closer.
“Aileen,what are you doing?” The Mathuni hissed.
“Same kind of wooden spears as the others, same wilting gambeson,” She said. “I think this group was related to the others.”
“So now they are all dead. Great! Let’s get the hells out of here!”
Aileen ignored her. “Aurgin, what does Sku Koroth mean?”
“Screaming Hills,” Aurgin translated. She assumed there was a history to the name, but never gave it much thought. She was born and raised in the City of Flowers. The lore of this area was still a mystery to her. Pieces of a puzzle started to click together in her mind. Not enough to give her a full picture, but enough to form a question.
“Maker,” Aileen said, “what do you know about this area?”
The Sentenate gave a rigid shrug. “Not a lot. I awoke far to the north and the west.”
Aurgin and Aileen matched gazes and spoke in unison. “Everyone Murdoc hired is ignorant about this place.”
“Maybe that's the only way he could find Folk stupid enough to come all the way out here!” Aurgin spat. “I can’t believe I agreed to this! What else is out here?”
Aileen sped over to put a mollifying hand on her companion’s shoulder. “Peace, Aurgin. It’s behind us. We can leave this place and keep–”
“No!” Aurgin brushed her hand aside, though not as roughly as she could have. “What if there are more of them? What if that’s not the only one? I’m not risking that–” she said, jabbing her maul at the mess of blood and gore, “just for some stupid quest! Let Mialoth do it herself! To the hells with her moronic philosophy!”
“So you’re willing to spend today marching back towards it, hoping you can sneak by before it gets dark?” Maker asked flatly. Aurgin and Aileen turned to look at them. “We’ve wasted a few hours today being petrified. I cannot remember how long we were traveling last night, but it was for hours at least. Not to mention, you did not awaken until hours after Ankirat dawned.”
They pointed to the sky. “It is almost noon now. Do you think you can make it? Can you race Ankirat to the western horizon?”
Aileen looked back down the road at the remains of the folk. Aurgin could only stare at their metal companion. “You… you monstrous fucker you.”
Maker was unmoved. “Do you think you can?”
“What if I stay in that camp until tomorrow morning and leave then?” Aurgin said, more to steady herself than to get back at Maker.
“You could. But you would be going alone.”
“Aileen, you wouldn’t let me go alone, would you?”
Aileen pulled her gaze away from the remains of the ambush. “Well…”
Aurgin’s stomach almost dropped out. “You wouldn’t abandon me, would you?”
“Abandon? No! But… I agreed to do this errand, both to Murdoc and to Tain.” Aileen looked back at the dead. “I don’t want to risk that either. But I know we can’t make it, we can’t win that race. Aurgin I think our only way out is through.”
They stood silently for a time until the stench of blood became too much. “Fine!” Aurgin shouted. “But we are going to go back to that camp and really pick it clean!”
“That would be wise. I didn’t bring a tent.” Maker said plainly. It might’ve been her imagination, but Aurgin swore she could hear a tiny laugh in the Sentenate’s voice. If only they had a face that could oust their emotions. Or, at least a face that wouldn’t break my fist if I punched it.
The camp was as they left it. Mo had been left to guard the area, and Maker reported that nothing unusual had happened. Splitting up, they set about tearing through it a second time, each alone with their thoughts. Aileen found herself glancing at Aurgin from the corner of her eye, wincing as the Mathuni’s expression swung from furious to heartbroken. What did I say to her last night? Aileen had been so tired she couldn’t remember. The way Aurgin had stressed the word “abandoned” felt purposeful.
I need to stop flirting so much. Aileen’s romantic past was practically nonexistent, the few flings she could remember either ending in spectacular disaster or payment. For the most part her sly comments went over the heads of the women she spoke to. Turgandy had strange hang-ups when it came to sex and love, and found the “dwarven way” of two men being together to be abhorrent. They extended the same prejudice to women.
Still, she had found some companionship. Enough to leave her desperate for more, but bitterly convinced it was not to be. Her elven heritage gave her immortality, so any human she loved would wither and die in her arms. The few elves she had met had been horrid Folk more interested in the genocide or subjugation of other races than kisses in the dark. So Aileen allowed herself to flirt, considering it more of an exercise in wit.
The way Aurgin looked at her made her question her resignation. Rummaging through the moth-eaten backs and sacks the bandits kept their paltry possessions in, her mind drifted to how easy it was to grab hold of Aurgin. Greenish-gray skin, so smooth despite the rugged personality beneath. Deep maroon hair, how nice would it feel to have it cascading over me, our faces so close…
“I found something!” Maker shouted from reality. Aileen’s day dream broke, and with a huff she went to investigate.
In the largest hut were a series of crude maps of the area and, disturbingly, of the Mathuni villages surrounding Ogroth. Highlighted in unusual detail were the innumerable waterways that carved the jungle into slivers. Aileen remembered bathing in those streams at every chance she got. She also remembered the symbol that was drawn into the top corners of each of the maps: the signet of Mithtrion’s fiefdom.
Maker pulled out a letter and slid it towards Aileen. “I cannot read this, it is not in the common tongue of the Endless.”
Aileen scanned the letter with Aurgin looking over her shoulder. “It's a correspondence between one Master at Arms Signatram Sinth, and someone who isn’t named. Probably one of the men from the ambush.”
She squinted and read further as Maker tapped the top of one of the many barrels that littered the rickety hut. “Anything about what these barrels contain?”
“Yes, Back-breaker dust,” Aileen said, “gods above they were planning on poisoning the entire water supply of the jungle!”
Aurgin snorted. “Not with this much poison. Those waterways are a greater labyrinth than any Folkish mind could imagine. They would need mountains of the stuff.”
“It’s their last effort for revenge against the Mathuni.”
“For what?”
Aileen looked up from the page. “For what your father did. Maybe they don’t believe that just one Folk could’ve destroyed the fief?”
Aurgin shook her head. “Not just one Folk. Him. If this is their last strike, why are they using sharp sticks and second-hand gambeson?”
Aileen broke out laughing. “You don’t know Mithtrion, or the army he kept. Little more than brigands beaten into line and split into squads. Especially with the fief being gone, I doubt they had anything substantial to equip themselves with.”
“It's been almost 30 years!” Aurgin said, the corner of her mouth twitching up. “Have they been out here that long?”
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Aileen re-read the letter and shrugged. “It doesn’t tell me enough. A camp this shoddy doesn’t seem like a years-long encampment.”
Maker returned from a check of one of the corners with a pair of bottles. The profile and red staining on the corks made them easily identifiable. “It appears they had wine. From a successful heist, maybe?”
Aurgin’s eyebrows shot up. “Wine you say? Pass them here, I have a use for them.”
Aileen groaned. “No, please don’t start drinking again.”
“What, are you my mother?” Aurgin snapped.
“Would she stop you from drinking yourself into a stupor when that thing is still out there?” Aileen spat back.
“No idea, she left right after I was born,” Aurgin replied coolly. “Besides, what does it matter to you?”
“I want the Folk I’m stuck with to be ready for anything instead of stumbling around singing and telling everything within ten miles where we are!”
“Perhaps shouting at each other is doing just that,” Maker interjected. Aurgin and Aileen glared at each other for a moment.
“Fine,” Aileen said at last, feeling embarrassed. “As long as you don’t make too much noise.”
Aurgin sniffed. “I won't.” She hesitated for a moment, then grinned. “Of course, if you want to share…”
Aileen rolled her eyes at the offer and stormed outside. “Don’t open those barrels, and don’t think I’ll heal your hangover! We move as soon as it is light.”
Still fuming, she checked over everything they had scavenged from the camp. Aurgin had taken down the largest and least damaged tent so it could be bundled and taken with them. Maker had sorted out a number of side- and hip-bags, as well as all the bows and arrows that were usable. Aileen herself managed to find several yards of padded cloth to patch up gambeson with, as well as a number of small knives, razors, and boots.
She had also found, to her delight, small bags of spices. The rest of the rations the bandits kept were in miserable condition, and Aileen suspected everything edible was taken to the ambush. She had planned on sharing them with Aurgin, but now she was feeling righteously spiteful, and snuck them into her bag.
That night they built a low fire to cook their dinner with. Mo was still on watch, and though Aileen felt bad about leaving it out she had to admit it was very convenient to not need to stand watch. Maker insisted Mo did not ‘feel’ the way they did, to which a wine-drunk Aurgin butt in with a question.
“Do you feel the way we feel?” She asked.
Aileen hid a sigh with one hand and sprinkled a pinch of smoked salt onto her sizzling jerky and tubers in the skillet. Maker did not seem offended, though they rarely seemed anything but calm. “I would suspect not, though the uses of what I feel are the same.”
Aurgin blinked. “Wha?”
“It is difficult to explain.”
Aileen found herself curious, despite herself. “Well, we have nothing but time right now. This damn jerky takes an age to soak in the water, and the rice longer.”
Maker sat for a long moment, thinking. “My feelings, they are not like yours. When something pierces my skin, I do not feel pain that I cannot control. Instead I feel…warning. Alarm? I know it’s bad, and I know where it is, but I can choose to ignore it. However, I know better than to ignore it, because it is bad for my physiological being.”
“I sometimes get that,” Aurgin said. “Sometimes the pain I feel I can just shut off and ignore, but I know it's bad to do that. What about fear? Panic?”
“Well fear is different, yes,” Maker replied. “The scream, for instance. When I feel fear, I understand that whatever obstacle I face is greater or equal to me and that there is a chance I will not overcome it. It warns me to find a new route around it, because there is no sense in throwing myself into a lethal situation. I was built to protect, not to be a martyr.”
They paused and looked over their metallic shoulder. “But that scream? It told me that there was no winning, and that my greatest victory was being able to see what was making the sound when it killed me. I have faced down wights and ghouls and thousands of zombies. I witnessed the fall of dragons and rotting hulks sewn from several dozen Folkish corpses. I have never heard or felt something that made me feel that way. Never.”
Aileen stirred the skillet absently. She was curious now beyond shame. “Maker, I don’t mean to bring up a sore spot for you, but most of the Sentenate I have heard of were roving fighters that never even spoke. Why are you so different? What makes you different?”
The light of the fire danced in Maker’s lensed eyes. They were perfectly still, a stark contrast to Aurgin’s gentle swaying. Despite this, Aileen could feel the indecision radiating off of them. Ankirat set behind the horizon, and the final twilight that lit the sky began to dim. Maker spoke.
“I have heard and even met these Sentenate. They wander out of the surf and assault everything around them. Yes, they and I are different.” Maker leaned back and looked up at the sky above them. “I got to talk to one, once. In their rampage they saw me and stopped. They asked me about my legion, my station. I told them I was a sixtieth regiment scout, and they asked me why I was out of position.
“I told them the last thing I can remember: watching a swarm of some ten thousand undead converging on our fortress, and fighting until a hulk smashed me against a stone wall,” Maker reached a metal hand to the back of their head where there was a dent. “All went silent, like I have never known it. At length Sentinel came to me, and beckoned for me to return. I was willing, there was so much I had left unfinished. When I did, the world I knew and the Folk I remembered were all gone. Everything I left didn’t matter anymore.
“When I told them this, they told me of their final memory. A cataclysmic bang caused by giant, divine figures in the night sky. A hammer the size of the world crashing into the mounts of the Twilight Star, and the wave of annihilation that spread out from the impact. Mountains shredded into dust. Oceans and seas blasted into mist. It overtook them and the Siege Behemoths. When they awoke, they were at the bottom of a vast sea.”
Maker looked back into the fire. The crackling of the logs echoed out into the forest around them. “They told me there were new foes to destroy. I killed them before they could butcher any other Folk.”
The three of them sat in silence, staring into the fire. Aurgin seemed steadier now, sitting straight upright. Aileen felt a twinge of guilt and decided to splurge a little more with the seasoning for the rest of the group. After a few seconds of silence, Aurgin spoke.
“I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“I do not mind sharing it,” Maker said before Aileen could apologize and take the blame. “If others knew, then maybe we could find a different way to deal with my kin. Maybe we could find a cure.”
“Maker, I was the one to really bring it up,” Aileen insisted. “I’m sorry.”
“It is okay. To hear your voices is better than to sit in silence and wait for the scream to come again.”
At Maker’s mention all three of them turned around to look over their shoulders. With careful ears they listened for anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing, and Aileen noticed the low songs of birds for the first time all day.
“What brought it out?” Aileen asked herself aloud. “We were stumbling around in the dark for at least an hour following that drake, and it never showed. What made it attack us?”
“The noise,” Aurgin answered. “That drake was howling past the stars. I wonder what happened to it?”
“We killed it,” Aileen said, frowning.
“It ran away from us, we didn’t kill it, “Aurgin insisted.
Aileen’s frown broke into a small smile. “No, I mean we hurt it so badly it must’ve died, or will die from its wounds.”
“I would agree, I don’t think whatever that was would have too much trouble with a lame darke,” Aurgin said. The mood chilled further. Maker stood and physically turned to get a better look at the forest around them through the gaps in the thin cloth walls of the camp. Aileen decided she had had enough of the tension.
“Okay! Fine, it’s very scary and we are all stuck here. The food is almost ready, and gods above I don’t feel like dwelling on this,” she looked over at Aurgin. “Pass that bottle of wine.”
Aurgin held it up. “It’s empty.”
“Then pass me the other one.”
Aurgin grinned, tusks flashing in the fire light. With one hand she swapped the empty bottle for the full one, and with the other hand she brushed a thin strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m glad we could share.”
“A-a-and the waves may break; and the wind can blow; but tonight love, we won’t know! So latch the door and come grab me; we can shake this house; into the sea!” Aurgin and Aileen sang, arms thrown over each other’s shoulders. Maker had abandoned them in their drinking to keep watch with Mo. The two drunken Folk had set about forgetting the danger around them with aplomb.
The fire was burning low when they stumbled and sat down hard. The sky above was a sea of stars. Looking up, Aileen instinctively sought out Tain’s star, a large bluish dot ringed by ten others–Tain’s Angels. Her life as a cleric had changed the way she saw the sky; every other star was plotting in reference to Tain’s. Aurgin, still swaying, gave her shoulder a squeeze.
“You alright?” The Mathuni asked.
Aileen nodded. “I’m fine, thanks. Just enjoying the view.”
“Hah! Me too,” Aurgin said, her roguish smile framed by her tusks.
Aileen gave her a smile and a sideways look. “Oh? Are you so divine?”
“Perhaps.” Aurgin shrugged. “I mean, maybe my old lovers would have something different to say about it.”
“What would they say?” Aileen asked, turning fully so she could look into Aurgin’s eyes.
“Well, Dihamhe would probably not have much to say. Bastard dropped me the moment he saw a newer, shinier toy.” Aurgin shook her head ruefully. “Avhalen would talk about my poor manners around nobility, which I don’t mean to rect–rectal–rest–”
“Rectify?”
Aurgin nodded. “Yeah that. The City of Flowers has a lot of nobles. Even the weavers and tinkers and cobblers are some sort of master or high class. It gets really annoying to have to deal with snooty humans and aloof elves staring down their noses at me, as if I’m not the daughter of a Companion.”
As the Mathuni rambled, Aileen's hand wandered across her gray-green shoulders and the back of her neck. After a moment Aileen realized Aurgin had gone quiet and was looking at her.
“Sorry, what?”
“Enjoying yourself?” Aurgin asked. “Enjoying the view?”
Aileen giggled. “Maybe I am.”
“I could show you a better one.”
“Oh?” Aileen asked, feeling her heart start to race. Should I? She considered burning away the intoxication and navigating the moment sober, but threw the idea out. She was enjoying herself. “You really think you can tame Tain’s agent?”
“You bet I think I can Tain tame’s–tage tam’s–t–” Aurgin paused, then laughed at herself. “Maybe I am a bit drunk. Tame Tain’s tagent–there, close enough!”
They chortled together at their own foolishness. When Aileen got herself under control she couldn’t help but notice how close they were. The heat sloughing off of Aurgin was greater than the simmering embers of their fire. A strong, smooth hand slid across her lower back and onto her waist, pulling her close.
“Maybe…” Aileen started, hesitating when she caught the reflection of the embers in Aurgin’s eyes. “Maybe instead I get to tame a Hammerfiend.”
Their wine-tainted breath washed across their bodies, chests rising and falling in sync. Oddly, Aurgin seemed hesitant.
“I don’t know…” she said, tearing her eyes away to look into the fire. “I felt the same way with Dihamhe, the same burning…”
Aileen reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from Aurgin’s face and tucked it behind her ear. The cleric’s fingers lingered, tracing Aurgin’s face down to her jaw. “Aurgin, look at me.”
They gazed into each other’s eyes. “I can’t promise you anything, not even that we will both survive this journey. I can tell you how badly I want to try, and I can tell you how terrified I am of trying. Do you know what immortality means? It means watching everyone I love wither and die. But it doesn’t stop the yearning–no, it only makes it worse with each passing decade.”
Her hand wandered up into Aurgin’s hair, gently grasping a fistful. “We could both die here, or just one of us could, but the outcome is the same. I’m willing to accept that. I think I would rather try now, and let this peninsula be the length of our time together. If we survive, and still want to try, then what’s stopping us?”
Aurgin’s eyes rolled gently as she tilted her head closer, relishing the feeling of Aileen’s fine fingers running through her hair. “Mm, I’ll admit I forgot about your immortality. Is it strange that I’m not worried?”
“A little,” Aileen said with a smile. “I remember snapping at you just an hour ago.”
One of Aurgin’s eyes cracked open. “And I remember just an hour ago you were chiding me about drinking.”
“I guess things change.”
“I’m willing to give it a try, though I feel odd about it. It’s only been a week or so since Dihamhe and I–”
“You’ve been drinking like that for a week?” Aileen blurted out. “Sorry, I just thought you and he had split only the day before.”
“No, it’s been a week. A bad week.”
“Sorry.”
Aurgin took hold of Aileen’s wrist with a gentle hand. Staring into the cleric’s eyes she made it drift lower, over her chin and down past her collarbone, fingers tracing across her skin. Aurgin paused, both of their hands over her heart which thundered against her ribs.
“Perhaps,” Aurgin murmured, “we should find a place more private.”