The hour was late after the Fangs parted way with Nail-Puller, so they stopped at an inn and resolved to continue their investigation in the morning. The plan was to get a good night’s rest and an early start in the morning. Instead, however, the Fangs found themselves where most people do when they have just been force-fed a mountain of indigestible information – at the bar.

They sat further apart than normal, and conversed little. Each of the mercenaries busied themselves with their drinks, and allowed their ears to be cleansed by the gentle strumming of Morgan’s lyre. Archimedes had found a nook to settle into, from where he hoped he could observe the others and gauge their mood. Instead, he found himself staring at miniscule bubbles, playing on the surface of his beer.

“You okay?” Eileen asked.

Archimedes looked up. He could plainly see that she already knew the answer to that question.

“It’s just a lot to take in.”

“So your friends may have pissed off one of the most influential parties in the southern continent? Big deal! We all make mistakes.”

Eileen invited herself to sit down.

“You know this cult was probably responsible for Dexy’s death?”

Eileen’s mouth twisted, “And some of us are going to make a few more mistakes.”

“You must hold such contempt for them.”

“Who?”

“Gabriel, Vish, Natasha.”

Eileen was quick to open her mouth, but her answer didn’t come right away. Instead, she sighed, took a sip, and looked up at the ceiling.

“Part of me wants to hate them. They brought their problems to my doorstep, and I lost someone dear to me because of it. Truthfully, though? I can’t find it in me. I know it’s not really their fault. Besides, now they’ve put a name to someone I can truly hate. I’m grateful to have that. It gives me some direction, at least. Plus, they even smacked the bastards around a bit!”

Archimedes hummed, “I still don’t understand that. The friends I knew wouldn’t even get involved in mess hall politics. It’s utterly unfathomable that they would tangle themselves up in continent-wide apocalyptic paradigm shifts.”

“They grow up so fast, don’t they?” Eileen grinned.

“Perhaps they do, or perhaps there was something so dreadful going on that even they couldn’t ignore it.”

Eileen put a hand on his, “Maybe they’re just good people.”

Archimedes took a swig, “No, no, that can’t be it.”

“Well at any rate, we’re not going to discover anything by sitting here and speculating. I say we go and ask them ourselves.”

“I would love nothing more. Still, this business with Natasha? I fear we must be extra cautious.”

“What business with Natasha?”

Archimedes frowned, “Where she returned from the dead?”

“Lucky girl. Must have been a scary near miss.”

“And her hair turned white?”

“A common response to shock.”

“And,” Archimedes cocked his head, “And she grew wings?”

“I took that as more of a metaphor.”

“A metaphor? You don’t say.”

Eileen shrugged, “All will become clear when we find them.”

The Fangs’ commander eyed the rogue, “Your optimism is refreshing.”

“Dexy used to say it made me a crappy cards player,” she winked over her drink, “Besides, I’ve heard only good news, objectively speaking. Now we know for sure that the white-haired woman with Gabriel and Vish is Natasha, which means there’s not some unknown quantity to worry about. Plus, we know that everyone they met after the business with the Order absolutely loved them! Well, when they paid their bills.”

“True.”

“So, you see, there’s absolutely nothing to worry about.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Archimedes allowed some of the tension to ease from his shoulders, “I suppose you’re right.”

The following morning they struck out West from Jandrir, en route to Badanis. They stopped at The Tooth, only to find their was no Tooth, there were no people, and the only thing to see on the town’s sightseeing tour was a massive smorgasbord of squished and jellied human organs.

“Aaaaaah,” Eileen said.

“Fuck,” Thomas said.

“This could be a coincidence,” Violet said.

They stared at the little alchemist until she shrank inside herself.

The buildings were shells. Most of the structures were scorched hollow, and all of them were missing walls or had caved in rooves. The casualties were enormous, so numerous that the Fangs’ dared not hope to find survivors. The poor souls had been killed in a number of ways and fashions, but there was one point of commonality: they had all been killed with the utmost brutality.

“What, under the Aether, could have done this?”

“I don’t know,” Adrian said, “but I intend to find out.”

The ranger handed his bow to Violet, took a swig from a small tin flask, and set about investigating the scene.

“You okay there?” Thomas asked Eileen while Adrian busied himself in a pile of entrails.

Eileen hadn’t realised that her lip had been quivering, “Yeah, yeah. It’s just bloody cold out here, you know?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cold,” the orange mage agreed, “Plus there’s a whole bunch of dead bodies around.”

“Really? Hadn’t noticed.”

“Yeah, there, there, there… a little bit up there. That might be the same dude, though.”

“Could be.”

“Oh look, that one’s a child.”

“That so?” Eileen went a shade of green.

“Yeah, look, you can tell by the itty-bitty ribs poking out, see?”

“How about that?”

“That’s probably its head over there.”

“Mm.”

“Right there. The thing that looks like a cross between half full wine-skein and a chafed testicle.”

“Alright, what the fuck is your problem?”

Eileen was panting, sweating, trembling, and she had her blades out. She was snarling, leaning barely two fingers’ widths from Thomas’s face.

Thomas blinked slowly, “I’m the best damn mage in the Fangs, maybe even the circle, but even I need to know that someone’s got my back. I need to know who I can rely on, and who’s going to freeze when things get ugly.”

“Find someone else to watch your back, sadist!”

Thomas smirked, “You’re good, Eileen, but you’re still the newbie around here. I can’t trust you until I see what you’re really made of.”

“I’ll show you what you’re made of.”

Eileen was holding a dagger to the mage’s gut. She gripped its small hilt so tightly that the leather of her bracers creaked.

“Careful. You wouldn’t want to make a scene.”

Only then did Eileen catch the others watching her from the corner of her eye. With an effort, she slowed her breathing, sheathed her dagger, and backed away. She ran into the tress before Archimedes could stop her.

“Gods’, Thomas, must you rile people so?” Archimedes snapped.

“Relax. She’ll be back. She’s just ashamed.”

“No, actually, I think she’s pissed off,” Adrian called, plopping a pair of kidneys on the pile of body parts he had worked through.

“That could have seriously escalated, Thomas.”

Thomas waved a hand dismissively, “Nah. What’s a death threat or two between friends?”

“Personally, I think she should have just stabbed you,” the ranger said.

“See? Adrian gets it! It’s all in good jest.”

Archimedes shook his head, “Morgan, please go after her. If anyone can find the words to soothe her pain and frustration, then it’s you.”

The bard gave a curt nod and jogged into the forest.

The captain forced himself to march to Adrian’s side. He managed to prevent himself from recoiling from the stench of the recently disturbed viscera, but just barely.

“What have you found?”

“Still trying to piece it together,” Adrian put his fists on his hips, “the bodies tell me one story, the tracks tell another.”

“Go on.”

“Well, quite apart from the fact that no two of these buggers seem to have been killed in the same way, the type of wounds I’m seeing are the likes of tearing, rending, blunt force trauma associated with a fall from height, limbs ripped off at the joints, crushing, wrenching-”

“- Injuries associated with a beast attack.”

“Perhaps. Certainly there are no slashing or stabbing marks like you’d associate with small arms.”

“But?”

“But nothing’s been eaten. Whatever did this did it out of rage, or maybe fear? It certainly wasn’t feeding.”

“Hmm, alright. And you say there is a mismatch with the tracks?”

Adrian walked Archimedes to a clearing where the snow had been tramped and compacted, making pock-marks on the surface.

“That’s the other thing that bothers me. Whatever went down here,” Adrian nodded at the disturbed earth, “two dozen armoured men stood by and just watched it happen.”

Archimedes felt the hairs on his neck rise, “They couldn’t have arrived later?”

Adrian sniffed, “I doubt it. There are other tracks that accompanied these guys. They’re all definitely from the time of the attack. The blood trails tell me that for sure.”

“These other tracks are the beast tracks?”

“No, human. No beast tracks I can find. Perhaps a flyer but, I dunno,” Adrian put the puzzle from his mind with an effort, and pointed at a script of prints in the snow that only he could read, “This one here is female. Light, soft-footed, medium height.”

“Natasha,” Archimedes whispered, his breathing ragged.

“This one is male. Ungainly, skinny, tall, and, uh, hesitant? He doubled back a few times, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to be here.”

“Gabriel.”

“The last one is a little weird. It seems she was wearing some kind of fancy-ass slippers. In weather like this? Gods’ know why.”

“Vish.”

“Ho-ho! The plot thickens,” Thomas said, folding his arms, “and to think I almost went back to Gladstone.”

“And how grateful we are that you didn’t,” Archimedes chided, “Gather your things, everyone! We must return to Jandrir. Whatever did this, the citizens must know about it. These roads need to be closed this instant. We make haste! Every cycle wasted means lives lost.”

Morgan managed to talk Eileen down from either running or stabbing, whatever she had been planning, and the two returned to the group in time to help gather the travel sacks.

“Huh,” Adrian said as they walked out onto the road again.

“What do you see?” Archimedes asked.

“Someone else was here. I missed it before, but there was definitely another. It looks like they hung back the whole time.”

“A spy, perhaps? A scout?”

“I doubt it. Whoever, or whatever, this is, they are big. I mean, real big. Big, and heavy.”

“An ogre? An ork? A giant?”

“I don’t know, but I hope we never find out.”