“—brought the monsters here!”
“—heard they were after him—”
“—attacked one of my own the day before.”
“You see the company he keeps? No wonder monsters—”
“The one with the eyes… you didn’t see the way it fought. Ripped apart anything that got near without even blinking.”
“My advice? Hide until this blows over. Keep the kids indoors and…”
“That ghast spoke. Said it would leave us alone if…”
“Speaking ghasts? Nonsense.”
“Doesn’t matter. This ‘Al-Mir’ group is bad news. Kick them out before they draw more problems to the burg.”
“And just who is going to do that? You? Don’t make me laugh. You soiled yourself when that monster of theirs—”
Zullie carefully closed the door behind her, trying to avoid as much noise as possible. Only once she was inside the small room did she lower the hood of her cloak. “Boss isn’t very popular, is he?” she mumbled, wishing the relative privacy of the stayover room did more to relieve the tension in her shoulders.
“Irrelevant,” Vezta said, eyes locked on the unconscious form of Arkk as he slept on in the bed. Several tendrils moved damp cloth over his body, trying to keep his body temperature down. “Did you discover anything?”
“I spoke with the alchemist they mentioned. Ghasts have some kind of toxin in their claws. He gave me this,” Zullie said, holding up a small crystal phial of clear liquid, “in exchange for about ten times more gold than I know it would take to make something like this.”
“Gold is no object.”
“Still…”
“Will it work?”
“Hope so,” Zullie said, stepping closer to Arkk. “The alchemist refused to come to see Arkk. Said something about Arkk threatening him. So, if it doesn’t work…”
Dakka, standing watch over Arkk’s bed not far from Vezta, bared her tusks in full with a low growl. “We go out there to rescue his girl from monsters and he repays us like this? It wasn’t even a real threat,” she snarled. “Should have left the girl to die.”
“If it doesn’t work,” Vezta said, voice unnaturally calm, “I will be the one speaking with this alchemist.”
Zullie suppressed a shudder. Her first thought upon meeting Vezta had been one of fear and shock. The monster’s appearance alone was unsettling. Knowing Vezta was pre-Calamity? That was another level of shock. One that quickly gave way to interest and curiosity once it became apparent that Vezta wasn’t going to eat her. The problems they had been working on together were fascinating, to say the least.
An alternate system of magic with truncated incantations alone was enough to draw her interest. Then Vezta brought up her reverse evocation problem. Punching a hole through planes of existence to reopen pathways that had been closed for over a thousand years? How could she say no?
Evocation, summoning, and likely teleportation—Zullie was fairly certain that the teleportation ritual circles used planar magic to dig tunnels through reality for instant transportation—were all classified as High Anathema by the Abbey of the Light. Zullie knew the theory of summoning but had never been allowed to practice or delve deeper than what was required for recognition. Vezta helped out with that. The pre-Calamity monster didn’t know how to work magic but she did know how to explain what she needed to happen in such a way that Zullie could formulate ideas about how to accomplish her needs if not full rituals.
With such interesting problems to work on, she had almost forgotten just what Vezta was.
Having seen Vezta in a fight and, later, frighten off a mob of angry people, Zullie doubted she would think of Vezta as just another researcher anytime soon.
Deciding to not tempt the ancient creature by staring, Zullie hurried over to Arkk’s side, uncapping the phial as she moved.
“Ingested, injected, or topical?” Vezta asked.
“Ingested. Can you sit him up?”
Tendrils formed from the shadows around Arkk, lifting him into a sitting position. Zullie winced at the sight. He wasn’t completely limp nor was he completely unconscious. He drifted in and out of lucidity. While her mending spell had sealed the gashes in his front after far more effort than she had expected, a bramble of blackened veins marred his chest, stemming from the thin scars the magic had failed to heal. Parts of the black veins were creeping up his neck, threatening to attack his face.
“Alright, Arkk. I need you to swallow this as much as you can.”
Zullie’s boss didn’t respond. Not even a blink of his eyes. Was he weaker than he had been before she left?
Yes. Almost certainly. They wouldn’t need a potion if he was getting better.
The alchemist had given her a long glass straw to use to carefully administer the potion without spilling any. Dipping the straw into the phial and then covering the end captured a small amount in the tube. With Vezta holding Arkk’s head back and his mouth open, she held the straw partially in his mouth—not far enough to trigger a gag reflex—and let it dribble out and down his throat.
His breathing paused a moment. Just long enough for a weak swallow. That was a good sign. Zullie had been worried about accidentally drowning him on the concoction.
Zullie continued, forcing him to drink small amounts at a time until she couldn’t capture a meaningful amount in the straw, at which point she upended the remainder into his mouth and hoped that would be enough. Stoppering the bottle and setting it aside, Zullie watched as Vezta gently set him back down on the bed.
“How long before we see…”
Vezta trailed off. It wasn’t hard to see why. The black veins around his throat were already pulling back. His breathing, formerly labored, steadied out. The potion worked fast, it seemed. That alchemist, though antagonistic, knew alchemy.
“Good,” Vezta said. “As soon as we confirm the stability of his condition, we will be leaving. In fact, we ought to leave before he regains consciousness to avoid any protests on his part.”
“How will we—”
A pair of sharp knocks interrupted Zullie. Her head snapped to the door, worried the angry crowd from downstairs had decided to throw them out. Or worse. She dismissed the notion almost as soon as it came. An angry mob wouldn’t knock.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Vezta stepped toward the door, unfazed.
Zullie quickly inserted herself between Vezta and the door. “Maybe I should..?”
“I can handle myself.”
“It isn’t you who I’m worried about.” Zullie didn’t consider herself a creature blessed with social graces. Between a pair of angry orcs and an angry… whatever Vezta was, it was a bit sad that she thought she was the best option for a peaceful encounter with whoever was on the other side of the door.
Vezta stared a moment but dipped her head, clasping her hands in front of the eye that sat where her navel should be.
Taking a breath, Zullie carefully pulled open the door, ready to jump aside and let Vezta handle a potential angry mob. Only it wasn’t a mob at all. A well-dressed man stood on the other side of the door, gently running his fingers against the stubble on his chin. He looked surprised before a small smile wrinkled his face.
“Ah. Good day. Is Mister Arkk…”
“Doing better, now that he has had a healing potion.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I… I heard the alchemist when he came in. Mister Arkk went to help a woman who ventured outside the walls, asking little in return for his assistance. The monsters would have certainly followed anyone back, including that alchemist, so I know the others downstairs aren’t speaking with the entire story in mind.”
“That’s… much appreciated,” Zullie said with a forced smile. “Mister…”
“Wolf. Aron Wolf,” he said with a nod of his head. “Wolf Trading Company.”
“I’ll let Arkk know. I’m sure he’ll appreciate your visit.”
“Ah. I’m not here just for good wishes. I wanted to warn him that the crowd downstairs is getting… rowdy. Several guards have shown up. I would try to explain what happened myself but the hysterics of the situation seem out of my control. Letting you know so that there wouldn’t be any surprises is the least I can do.”
Zullie drew in a sharp breath. That didn’t sound good. What were they going to do? Throw them into the stocks? Lynch them outright? Zullie glanced over her shoulder. Neither option seemed likely to succeed with Vezta here. Either option would turn bloody.
Zullie’s hesitation to respond cost her. Vezta stepped forward, offering a polite bow. “Thank you for your warning. We were just leaving.”
The man stiffened, eyes going wide. He tried to speak only to cough on a bit of spittle. His coughing fit died out as he took a step backward. “Yes, well, I…” He cleared his throat more, pointing a finger vaguely away from the door. “I just… Better leave before… Good luck.”
Zullie watched him scurry off down the hall and could only shake her head. Vezta hadn’t even been trying to threaten him and she frightened him off. Hopefully, Arkk wasn’t going to be upset that he might have lost the one friend he had in this town.
Closing the door, Zullie turned back to the room. “How are we—What are you doing?”
“Avoiding unnecessary conflict,” Vezta said, pushing open the large shutters over the window. Her tendrils had Arkk wrapped up, held aloft and away from the bed. “Out the window. Dakka. Orjja. Zullie. I’ll follow.”
Neither orc looked impressed. “You want us to fit through that?”
The window wasn’t a large one. It had no glass. A vertical beam of wood bisected the opening, cutting down the total space to one that Zullie felt she would have a tough time squeezing through, let alone Dakka or the marginally larger Orjja.
Vezta simply looked back to the window, considering the problem. Before Zullie could offer any alternate solutions to the situation, tendrils wrapped around the frame and ripped a portion of the wall away.
“Out.”
Dakka didn’t argue again. With a casual shrug, she kicked aside a plank that was protruding before hopping straight out of the window. Orjja followed immediately after.
“Maybe we should leave some gold for repair—”
The noise of ripping away the wall must have alerted those on the ground floor. Heavy stomping moved up the stairs. Flipping the latch on the door, Zullie hurried over to the opening.
Vezta was already climbing out, using extensions of her tendrils to lower herself and Arkk carefully.
It wasn’t that high of a drop. The ground below was muddy and slick. Zullie’s mind started flipping through every spell she knew, trying to find one that wouldn’t have her breaking her leg if she landed poorly. A heavy slam against the door behind her made her mind go blank. Splinters of wood broke away from the latch with another heavy thud.
“Vezta!” Zullie shouted, jumping.
She wasn’t going to land well. Her arms spun through the air. She wasn’t just going to break her leg, her neck was going to snap against the muddy ground.
Oily black tendrils reached up and looped around her, slowing her down until her feet touched the ground as gently as if she were stepping down from one of the library’s ladders.
“Thanks.”
“Hurry,” Vezta said, not even stopping. “Arkk would be upset if I were to start a fight here.”
Zullie didn’t need telling twice. The angry shouts from above were more than enough motivation to rush through Darkwood Burg.
They rushed through the streets, moving directly toward the gate where all the fighting took place. Rekk’ar and the rest of the orcs stood outside the guardhouse, protecting the ritual circle within from a small contingent of guards who wanted to get back in. Zullie was honestly surprised that there hadn’t been a fight yet. Rekk’ar looked more than ready to start one.
The posturing of the guards died down as soon as one spotted Vezta approaching. Some must have seen her fight. They quickly pulled the rest away, granting them a wide berth to enter the guardhouse.
“Zullie. Get the orcs through the teleportation circle.”
“We’re taking the circle out? Arkk wanted to be seen leaving.”
“Then he should have been more careful.”
Zullie pressed her lips together but didn’t argue any further. It wasn’t that she was afraid of Vezta. The pre-Calamity monster did creep her out somewhat but she was fairly certain they had a good enough rapport between them to not come to actual conflict. Her lack of further protest stemmed from a definite desire to leave Darkwood behind and never return. Teleporting was simply the best way to put as much distance between her and the monster-infested woods as possible.
One by one, the orcs stepped inside. Zullie knelt next to the teleportation circle, activating it for each with only a small delay between. They all had done this before and knew they needed to clear the exit point as fast as possible.
There were more than just orcs inside the guardhouse. Two of those creepy lesser servants sat in one corner, bubbling and staring at everything while mouths and eyes formed and reformed across their pustulate skin. As Orjja, the last orc, made it through the portal, Zullie glanced at Vezta. “What about the servants?”
“Send one of them.”
“Only one?”
Vezta pointed a tendril at one. It carefully repositioned itself within the ritual circle. With a shrug, Zullie pushed out some of her magic. In a flash, the servant vanished.
“The other?”
“It will destroy the ritual circle after we have left then burrow straight down and discorporate,” Vezta said, narrowing her eyes at the few guards brave enough to stand at the doorway and watch what was going on. “Don’t want anyone following us.”
“Discorporate?”
“Kill itself.”
Zullie winced. “Is that really necessary?”
“It is just a lesser servant. It barely has thoughts of its own.” Vezta looked off into the distance over the heads of the few guards in the doorway. Zullie could hear shouts approaching. “Through the portal.”
“Sure.”
Zullie stepped inside and, with a light touch of magic, she found herself out in some nondescript forest. The same one she had traveled through on the way to the Darkwood Burg. The orcs stood around, casually chatting as they waited. They hardly took note of her presence, watching for Vezta and Arkk.
The two emerged a moment after Zullie cleared the circle. Vezta immediately destroyed the circle she had just emerged from with a liberal application of tendrils and then started directing the orcs through the next circle. The heavy rain, which had thankfully stopped, had disrupted part of the circle but Vezta was quick to clean it up.
As Zullie sent each orc through, she watched them, observing the way they looked at Arkk and Vezta. The end of the battle had been chaotic, to say the least. Just before all the monsters had vanished, they had broken through the gates. Zullie hadn’t seen it with her own eyes but she had heard from Dakka that, in the ensuing fight, Arkk had shoved Katt’am out of the way of the ghast’s claws.
Zullie barely interacted with the orcs. They lived in an entirely separate section of the fortress. Technically, she used the same mess hall for food. Practically, she ate at such odd hours that she most often scrounged through the kitchens to find food that she then took back to her room or the library. She wasn’t sure what relationship the orcs had with Arkk prior to today. She wasn’t sure what they had now, only that several were shooting him looks that she couldn’t quite parse.
Vezta left behind their final lesser servant to destroy the portal and then kill itself once again. The thought made Zullie a little ill at how callously Vezta just threw them away. Sentient or not, ugly though they were, she still found it disturbing to a degree. If Arkk was conscious, he probably wouldn’t have stood for it and would have insisted that they walk all the way back.
As Vezta destroyed the next teleportation circle without them traveling through it first, Zullie almost wished there were more lesser servants to facilitate their speedy return to the fortress. Almost. Not quite.
“Find the nearest burg or village,” Vezta said, holding out Arkk’s crystal ball. “We’ll head there for rest and transportation.”
Zullie couldn’t help but sigh as, an hour later, she located the nearest village far enough away that it would probably take the rest of the day and even part of the night to reach.
Maybe a little more than almost.