Domhnall 1.4
The ride was a disappointment, to say the least. The roads were glorified dirt trails. Even less needed to be said about the horse. Yes, it wasn’t going fast, but it wasn’t exactly stable, either. To be fair, other forms of transportation were likely the same. Except for walking. He didn’t like walking, however.
He might be too picky here, but it was not like carriages did not exist. However, such ‘laziness’ and ‘femininity’ was not exactly encouraged, so asking did not seem like a good idea.
Donal tried his best to look comfortable on his ride. It seemed to work, judging from the looks of others. At least that skill was included. As far as he could tell, most physical stuff remained, though they all needed refinement and practice.
He had the basics down and had trained up (had someone else train up) his muscle memory. All that was left was accumulating experience. He had been training inside his dreams. Once again Morrigan’s gift provided more than expected: training dummies - more like stitched-up corpses - that can move and fight, complete with adjustable levels of skill. Out of the 7 hours of sleep, he’d used four just for this.
This dreamscape seemed incredibly unfair, but he was never one to refuse advantages. Especially when he desperately needed them.
Right now, they were heading for the capital for his coming-of-age. The ceremony consisted of a few different steps, chief of which was the hunting of a monster. Usually, it was not much of a problem, holding more of a spiritual role than anything. Hunting a beast was not such a humungous task when you had a group at hand. However, he was most likely going to perform this ceremony alone. On top of that, the task would also be significantly harder.
For example, his brother had to track and kill a host of Banshees. Not the Banshee, but the task was dangerous nonetheless. One of his ears was torn up in the process. Even now, he could not hear properly from his right. A good thing to note, should they ever cross blades.
Most people didn’t even have full training before the age of maturity. One part of the ceremony was the bestowal of an actual sword, an acknowledgement that the young men were finally worthy of serving in the army, in honour of their lord, their gods, and their people. As such, a task like that was simply unseen and most people had quietly judged Conroy as a dead man. Yet, he returned, with fame and glory firmly in his palms.
He expected that his task would be similar in difficulty, if not more. While he appreciated the chance to prove himself, he’d rather do that after he had the time to prepare and adapt. But time was becoming an increasingly precious commodity for him, and that was with his sleeping hours added.
As such, he had been reading: one hand on his reigns, one on his scroll. His main priority right now? Learning of potential dangers. Whether it was the monsters strolling around the lands, or the kinds of magic one might have to face. He had not even touched on the gods and their groups, or the various hostile factions he might have to deal with. Regarding the latter two, he would have to rely on his patron as well as his father. Not ideal, but it was a necessary compromise.
He was not under the delusion that he would become some master of the blade in just a few short days. He doubted he could even do so with decades of wielding the sword under his belt. Nor was it his aim. All that training? It was merely to become decent, not to become a true expert. Call him a coward if you will, but he did not fancy living life on a knife’s edge, and being embroiled in a melee would certainly go against that wish.
More importantly, he could cram knowledge all day. He was reading right on horseback. Sure, the road was an uneven mess and the mount did him no favours. In the first few minutes, he had been dangerously close to puking his guts out.
But, surprise, surprise; having his life on the line certainly did wonders for his motivation. He struggled for some time, but could now finally read on the way. Combined with his four hours of ‘sleep’, he was taking in a lot.
The ‘sleep’ was a bit of a concern, now that he knew that this was real, but he’d have to leave such worries for later.
He steadied himself. A stretch of rough, uneven pathway greeted them. Once past, they would get some half-decent roads. With that in mind, he tucked away his book. For a so-called basic, “Men, Monsters, and Gods” was stuffed to the brim with information. A full encyclopaedia, if you will.
Split into five books, each with around 200 pages. Quite a heavy load, considering the material. Thankfully, there were two copies of each at the library. Though, he had the feeling that even with only a single bundle, they would still give it to him.
The benefits of being royalty, he supposed.
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“So… why are we here?”
Conroy said. “Because I don’t intend to become a savage in the woods.”
Don licked his lips and said, “Makes sense.”
“Yeah. It does, right? Anyhow, let’s see if the rooms are decent.”
They trekked along the dirt road. It was already very dark. The moon, almost full, was shining bright overhead. The air was cold, sending shivers down his arms. Winter was nearing.
The year was split into 12 months and four seasons. The first three months were spring, the next three were summer, and so on. Pretty standard so far. While the weeks still consisted of 7 days, the months each had 5 weeks or 35 days. He needed to adjust to that. At least there was no funny business with leap years and whatnot. As far as he knew, all the regions used this same calendar, with variations in the name. Emphasis on the “as far as he knew”, though.
The village was very small, consisting of less than ten buildings. The inn was decent, which was the saving grace. Probably because a lot of travellers passed through this area. It was one of the few roads that led to the capital from the east, after all.
There was a funeral going on. A large pyre, burning bright in the night sky. The group was already scattering, though one old woman stayed back, tears still in her eyes. The sobbing could be heard from here. Another man began to gather the ashes into an urn. He wondered if he should pay his respects.
A screech vibrated across the sky, shattering any semblance of peace. Another swiftly followed. Then another, and another, until the skies were thundering with that chilling, deadly sound. He looked up at the moon, at the direction of this unnatural sound, and there it was. A flock of black, grotesque, deformed creatures. They were little more than bones and skin. Perhaps that played a part in their speed. They were winged humanoid creatures, but that was all he could determine. He stopped ‘admiring’ them and started running. His companions, as well as the others on the streets, had the same bright idea. They still kept close to each other, however. A loose formation was maintained, with him and his brother at the centre.
Don soon learned that wings tended to be faster than legs, as the monstrosities behind him rapidly caught up. He wondered what happened to the woman who stayed behind, as nothing but a horrible blackness could be made out. Upon thinking that, his shivering increased.
He drew his sword. Glancing back at the monsters overwhelming his companions, he could not help but notice just how inadequate the weapon appeared. He shivered. But what was he to do? He screamed as something touched his leg. He stabbed it. It did not so much as flinch as the sword got stuck in its ragged body. Its rotten arms were now heading directly for his chest, whilst a rotting smile slowly formed on its face.
Then, a man came in, slashing it with his knives. The creatures screeched and scrambled away. Conroy roared and gave them another good slash.
They all reared back, some even falling to the ground, never to get up. However, only a mere five seconds passed before they were again back at it. None of them tried to fight, not even Conroy. The latter gave a few warning slashes, but they either avoided them or simply did not care.
The inn was right there, just a few dozen steps away. He wondered if it would even help, but threw away that thought instantly. He could almost feel their breath on his neck. He didn’t even dare to glance back. Their deathly voices were just beside him, yearning and begging for a sumptuous feast.
Then, a burly man took out a shield. It was a shiny, silvery, large oval shield. He couldn’t help but look back. What the hell is he thinking? The man steadied himself, put both his hands on the shield and slammed it at the centre of that… mass. They reared back instantly, writhing and snarling, while the slow ones fell, gasping on the ground.
Everyone took the chance and ran, even the shield bearer. They were quick to get back on their feet, but not quick enough. His action had provided enough time for them to get inside. The creatures screamed and roared outside but did not so much as attempt to go inside.
They all heaved a sigh of relief upon coming inside. There were a few injuries, but no deaths. None in their group, at least. They settled down and started treating each other.
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Now that he had some time to think, he was sure the outside monsters were the Sluagh or the Wild Hunt. Basically, they were a group of dead men who were excessively cruel in their lives, so much so their very soul was tainted by their deeds. As such, they roam the land, striking fear, spreading diseases, and occasionally capturing people. Livestock was said to be their favourite target.
He had a question, though. “Aren’t these things supposed to be less dangerous?”
Conroy clicked his tongue “Samhain is near, right? The barriers between life and death, our world and the Other are the frailest now. It’s the ripe time for them to gather some new companions. Thankfully, I had my iron daggers.”
Oh. Along with salt, that was one of their weaknesses. A lot of the monsters were afraid of iron. The better the quality, the better the effect. He should get some. This was just one reason why he needed to learn about these things.
Conroy gave Donal a look. “Why must you be born near this time?”
He could only nervously chuckle at that.
His brother shook his head and sighed. “Whoever thought it was a good idea to hold a funeral right now really should take some responsibility.”
The owner sighed. “I believe she did. Poor Alma. Her son died in the forest. He just passed 19. Now that I think about it, perhaps he died to them too. The markings seem to indicate that. The Druid told her to put it off, or at least take some cautionary measures, but she couldn’t think straight. I suppose we could’ve restrained her, but what’s done is done. Anyone want a drink?”
No one commented about the dead but some took up his offer. As the drinks were served up, people began to make themselves comfortable.
Donal found the man who had blocked the Wild Hunt. He was big, with large limbs and especially huge arms. His thick moustache was his selling point, however. It was ridiculously large, almost comical. Other distinctive marks were his shining bald head and his curious lack of eyebrows.
He decided to ignore his peculiar appearance and simply said. “Thanks for that. I’d have been a goner if you didn’t help.”
The bigger man chuckled. “No problem. Your group helped out too.”
“I am Domnhall, what’s your name?”
“I am Fergus, demon hunter, smith, mercenary, and most recently bodyguard. Currently on my way to work. Perhaps our way might converge.” He seemed oddly amused when he said that.
“Perhaps. What was that shield by the way, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Oh, this? Just wood with some iron claddings. It is pretty handy.”
He decided to ignore the silvery aura he had sensed earlier. “Ah, yes, about that. Would you say salt or iron is more effective?”
These two were the main materials used when facing the Fae and other spirits. It helped to cut off their magic.
“Iron.” He said with no hesitation. He pointed at his rather impressive biceps; a grin plastered on his face. “I can hold it in my arms you know. That’s the most important thing. Though, in my profession, you need both, and definitely a lot more than just that. That’s if you want to live, of course.”
“By profession, you mean working as a demon hunter?”
“Yeah. But like I said, I recently moved to guard the important people. Currently, I’m under contract, but if things change, I’m open to all possibilities.”
He gave Fergus a long look. “I’ll look for you if an opportunity arises.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Now, should we get drinks? In celebration of a new blossoming friendship.”
He shook his head. “No, thanks. Just a bit tense.”
“A drink then?”
“I want to keep my wits about, for now at least.”
Fergus shrugged. “Suit yourself then.”
The man got some mead, while Don took out his flask of water. Even now, the horn-slash-cup was odd to him. He had those before, in the last feast, but those were made of metal and decorated with gems and gold. He had thought they were just fancy upper-class objects. However, these were just hollowed out horns. Just about everyone used them, with certain variations.
He wet his lips with some water, while the demon hunter chugged a whole horn. People cheered and drank one by one. It was indeed not good manners to do what he did, but he’d rather not risk getting pumped with some poison. While he doubted that Fergus or anyone here bore malicious intent, it was better safe than sorry. Especially when his drinking partner apparently knew his identity. It was not that hard to guess, after all.
Even if he did not know his exact position, this man knew that he was an aristocrat at least.
In the corner of his eyes, he saw Conroy drinking, but his brother had prepared his own brews. That was a good idea.
He was told some demon-hunting tales, though they sounded like boasts. However, that was probably just his Earthly sensibilities fooling him. Common sense was quite different here.
All in all, demon hunting seemed like a fun business. Taming kelpies and capturing witches, all exciting stuff.
“Huh, the outside is pretty calm. Are they gone?”
“They are full. Honestly, that whole host would only want like, a few animals at most. Humans are an exciting change of pace, but their appetite for us is not great. They probably stuck around just to taste our fear.” Fergus lightly laughed. “That is their main source of sustenance.”
He made a face. It made Fergus smile. “You have much to learn and to see, young man.”
“That I know.”
After which, they all had a good night’s sleep. At least there were enough rooms. The day was bad as it was already
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A sword flew towards his face. He blocked it with his blade, pushing the weapon aside before stabbing his opponent in the chest. It staggered and fell.
Next.
An axe lunged for his feet, its sweeping edge intending to shred both his feet. He slightly jumped, the weapon screeching beneath him. Immediately afterwards, his opponent held the axe high, before smashing it downwards. He sidestepped. However, the sheer force of the attack, combined with his unsteadiness, meant that he could no longer keep his footing and subsequently fell.
Before he could do anything, his opponent gave him a rough kick and then gave his legs a good slashing. He screamed. Along with the pain, he felt a sense of emptiness, and as he looked back, only a bloody mess remained where his limbs once were. He closed his eyes.
Stop.
The dummy stopped moving, before disappearing entirely. Slowly, his flesh stitched itself apart. At least this part was not so painful. He summoned a glass of water, before dousing himself with the liquid. It would not remove the blood stain in what remained of his pants, but it would wash away the blood on his skin. For whatever reason, some things were possible while others were not.
Silently, he stood up. Dealing with larger weapons seemed to be a problem for him. The terror would stiffen his body and the ensuing internal panic froze his mind. It might be wise to solely focus on that for some time.
Next.
Another dummy rose, this time wielding a large hammer. The flat was as wide as his torso. Hit by that, and he’d be squashed into minced meat. Once again, he tensed up.
However, just as his opponent began to make his move, everything disappeared, like a fading mist. He was now sitting on a stump of wood and in front of him was a stone table. Opposite to him was Morrigan, with one hand on her chin. Her eyes were still under a veil, while her cloak of feathers still wrapped around her body.
“I can’t help but ask. What’s up with your outfit?”
“Hm? They are for symbolic purposes, mostly. And it’s quite nice. You should try it someday. Well, you would have to.”
“Care to tell me why?”
“As I said, it’s symbolic. Your father wears it, and when the time comes, you will too. Really, though, what is it that you dislike about it? Or are you the sort who prefers clothing pitch black, with barely any décor? Gloomy, dull, monotone. Seems that most men of your world are fond of such. Trying to invoke death, or what?”
“Never said I dislike it. Just curious.”
“Ah… the art of making assumptions. One of our many faults, both man and god, that is.”
He clapped. “Some very valuable insight. But what are you here for?”
“Impatient, aren’t you? And insolent, too. Do that with the wrong person, and you’ll die.” She said with a loving smile.
He raised an eyebrow. “Do your lot find and kill anyone who says the wrong thing? Kind of tedious, is it not?”
“Not really. It’s rather easy to snuff out humans. Probably takes about five seconds in total, to reach the target, kill them, and then come back. It’s not that we enjoy it or take their words to heart. Well, some do, but most don’t truly mind. It’s more about reinforcing authority. If you curse us in the comfort of your house, then sure, most gods won’t bother. Still not advisable, though. I know of some who had set up automatic smiting systems – most, now that I think about it. Anyway, we are getting off-topic. I actually have a small gift prepared. To cheer you up, if you still felt down about being here.”
Two glasses appeared, almost crystalline in appearance. They both held a viciously red liquid within.
He gave her a look. She said, whilst sipping her drink. “Did you expect horns? Not my thing. Give it a shot, it would be of some help. And I don’t mean just mental help.”
“I was more concerned about the… contents.”
“Oh, that. Still haven’t gotten used to your form? Just trust me, it’s good for your body. Extracted it from a mature Dearg Due.” Seeing his incomprehension, she added. “Imagine a bloodsucking seductress. They purify the energy from that blood, which means their blood can be quite useful. For a carrion shapeshifter, it would strengthen your form.”
“Oh.” With a slight hesitation, he chugged it in one go.
He fell to the ground and started shivering uncontrollably. He felt something crawling inside his body, with such speed and swiftness that it covered all of his insides in seconds.
Then, the pleasure kicked in. He felt like his entire body was being pumped with a pure sense of goodness. As if a goddess was massaging every inch of his skin, simultaneously, inside and out.
After a few minutes of churning on the ground, he slowly sat back up. Morrigan was looking at him in amusement.
“Good things have to be taken in moderation. This is even truer in this world of mine, where decadence can easily lead to death. Or worse. Actually, if you had done this whilst outside, you would have died. Internal combustion. It can get messy, to say the least.”
After coughing a few more times. “You could have stopped me, you know.”
“Sure, I could. But since you’re comfortable with getting stabbed and smashed, might as well have you learn it the hard way.”
He wiped the blood and saliva off his mouth. “Whatever. Again, what are you here for?”
“Just a check-up, and to tell you to prepare for the upcoming ceremony. I have prepared a suitable challenge. It might be exciting.”
“Great. Just great. Care to fill me in about the details?”
“It’s a surprise.”
He snorted. “If that’s all, then this trip was rather unfruitful if I do say so myself.”
“You could say so, but that changes nothing. Don’t you have any questions?”
“You mean aside from the most basic of questions? Like why I am being sent here?”
“Well, you and the others were sent here because of the will of the world. For… amusement, as far as I’m aware of.”
He stayed silent for a bit, before scoffing. “What else was I expecting? Fuck it, that’s all I need to know. It’s honestly rather relieving, knowing I have no set purpose here and could do whatever. Well, unless you have something else in mind?”
He gave her a look. Her lips curled up in amusement. “Don’t worry, I have always supported my followers to forge their own paths. You can ask your father about that. I will say that this might not necessarily be good for you.”
“Good to hear regardless.”
“That’s all for now. I want to see your success, but your failure will be just as amusing. I have gifted you a good deck, let’s see what you can do with it.”
With that, she disappeared into a flurry of feathers. He stared at her spot for a while, before shaking his head and calling for another challenger.
The less he was involved with her and her ilk, the better.