Chapter 16: The Lost Tribal

Elma couldn’t see either of them in the filthy mess that Nagsda’s split open head left spilling down the side of Mount Drypeak. A foul stench filled the air as she scanned the slope below her, her legs occasionally shaking as she made her way down.

“Fuzzy one!” Razzda’s voice called out from behind her, but Yorm wasn’t responding.

The clouds had rolled in during their time in the chamber, the sky darkening once again as a storm approached in the distance. It made Elma’s search for Yorm doubly difficult, as all the grays and browns of the mountainside blended together.

But it wasn’t like she truly needed to see, all she had to do was follow the laughter.

Maltop wasn’t even trying to hide, his barely restrained chortling sounded out over the growing wind. It drew Elma towards the upper half of Nagsda’s giant, desiccated head. Even with her limbs aching from exertion she kept her grip on her sword tight

Elma pushed forward, the pattering sound of Razzda’s footsteps reassuring her that they still had the numbers advantage.

The Dreamers, the Mawler, Nagsda. All of them had tasted Bullminth’s Blade and fed it thoroughly. It was just Maltop, the only thing between them and a clean escape from the Trade Fair.

In the time they’d spent inside the mountain, the fair had completed its transformation. Below them was a spread of small camps with numerous wagons, horses, beetles and carts ready to get on their way. In just over an hour since Maltop’s declaration, the Nurl Clans and their fairgoers had managed to pack up almost everything in preparation for their move. Some were taking off even then, with one wagon already pulling after several figures stepped away from it.

The only thing that kept Elma from getting the Blade away with similar ease was right on the other side of that bloated head.

“You did… did good.” Elma glanced back to Razzda, who beamed at the praise “But Maltop… those beams, watch for those.”

“Lady Lass tired…” Razzda noted as she hurried to her side “Razzda handle Dream thing!”

“No no, we’re almost done.” Elma stated before moving down faster “I’ll get you an opening, just-”

“The Final work of Bullminth the Black.” The Archon’s voice sounded out, making Elma pause several yards away from the giant head “A blade capable of finally ending the fifth scourge’s rampage.”

Elma held out a hand towards Razzda, raising a finger to her lips before nodding forwards.

“The Blade was never intended to be used as a weapon, but as a prison for the False Drake Lokhen. To keep his unstable powers from running rampant and destroying more of Altez.” The Archon continued as they approached “If that is the true Blade, the one that trapped Lokhen’s essence. Do you understand what that means, Yorm?”

Elma stopped briefly, before gritting her teeth and charging past the head. Her footwork was choppy, having to fight not to fall down the slope as she spun around.

But on the other side of Nagsda’s head, just under the broken hole left where her nose had been, was just the crumpled form of Yorm laying in a pool of her stale blood.

He wasn’t moving.

“Yorm?” Elma stopped herself from rushing to his side, instead scanning for Maltop. The upper half of Nagsda’s giant, rotting face still had plenty of places for a Nurl to hide. The empty eye-sockets, maybe somewhere in the upper jaw.

But before Elma could catch sight of the host, a weak grunt drew her gaze back to Yorm.

“Quick…” was all he managed to choke out, only then did Elma notice that some of the blood wasn’t just Nagsda’s. There was a trail of fresh crimson among the stale sludge that Nagsda had spewed, and it was coming from the side of Yorm’s neck.

“Damn it,” Elma swallowed dryly before inching closer, only for some of Nagsda’s hair to shift and make her spin towards it.

“There’s no telling whether the Blade can be broken conventionally, of if there’s some limit to its capacity.” The Archon continued as Maltop pulled himself up from within Nagsda’s messy hair “But if there’s even a chance that the False Drake’s power could be released, the Blade must be hidden under lock and key.”

Elma bit back a curse. Maltop was on top of Nagsda’s head, way out of her range. There was no way she could climb up there before he could move away.

And his words. Though she’d done well to ignore the Archon’s manipulations so far, there was a small feeling of hesitation that blossomed in the face of his newest attempt. But Elma held firm, reminding herself of what exactly was speaking to her.

“You would say anything to get that sword away from us.” She hissed.

“I would, including the truth.” The Archon’s response was immediate “And the truth is that the False Drake was the worse thing to happen in all of known history. It wasn’t a conqueror like me or even the Empress, it was known as the Living Apocalypse for a reason. Call me a tyrant, call me a monster for my actions, but waving around the False Drake’s prison is nothing less than madness.”

“Better listen, Lady.” Maltop tapped a claw against the Archon’s Eye “Archon smart-like! Know everything.”

“You just don’t want any threats to your power.” Elma pointed her own sword at the Eye “I can’t trust a word out of your mouth.”

“Really now?” The Archon’s sigh emanated from the Eye “Would words from an ally fair any better?”

Elma immediately glanced back towards Razzda, only to find herself standing below the mutilated head alone. She quickly cursed to herself, realizing that she’d let Maltop and the Archon draw her gaze from Razzda.

“Wait!” another choked grasp drew her eyes to Yorm, who had managed to cling to Nagsda’s head and begin pulling himself up.

It was only when he was turned away that Elma noticed it, the wound on his neck.

It was a bite mark.

“Yorm?” Elma turned her sword on him as Yorm grounded himself, breathing heavily as he leaned against Nagsda’s broken face “Are you-?”

“I don’t… I was so sure.” He mumbled “He ruined it, right? The trial for hunters. It needed the beasts, and he took them. It was a disgrace to Morgo… right?”

“Yorm, listen to me.” Elma grinded her teeth while tightening her grip on her sword “That wound, was it from Maltop?”

“I can’t remember…” Yorm pressed his head against Nagsda’s rotten skin “Something was important, but I don’t… can’t remember why.”

“Yorm,” Elma narrowed her gaze “If you’re still you, you’ll take a knee and turn around so you can die with your humanity intact.”

“I can’t remember.” He continued with a weak chuckle “But that’s… its fine, its all good. So good... So-”

The sound of liquid spurting in front of him made Elma shiver, but she had heard enough. Taking a breath to steel herself, she took a step closer only for Yorm to spin around.

She flinched back at the sight of his melted eye dripping from one of his new glowing eye sockets.

“Why?!? Why does it-?” Yorm scratched at his head wildly, digging deep enough to cla into his skin “Was it always this good? Was it this good for all of them?!?”

Elma lunged, swinging her sword for his neck only for him to hook it under the blade of his hatchet and drag it down.

“What were we fighting for?!?” Yorm demanded as he leaned closer “Keeping them from this?!? Its, its evil Elma! We were selfish!”

“Its just the goddamn Dream talking!” Elma spat before raising a foot and kicking, only for his other hand to swing up and grab hold of her leg.

“Selfish, Elms, we’re just goddamn selfish!” Yorm pushed, shoving her backwards.

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The slope came quickly, and Elma had to shield her head as she rolled. She caught herself on a fragmented piece of rubble, looking up to see Yorm gnawing on the tip of his hatchet with growing ferocity.

And behind him, levitating from Nagsda’s hair, was Maltop just writhing with glee.

“Don’t feel bad, Yorm.” The Archon spoke through the Eye again “Ignorance of the Dream is common and expected. But could you have a word with your comrade? It seems she’s unwilling to trade words with a scholar of my standing.”

Elma pushed herself up and adopted a stance, but Yorm just shook his head.

“Don’t!” He scratched at the side of his head again “Don’t go swingin’ that, you know damn well ya can’t take me. Just… listen, he was makin’ some good points a sec ago.”

She could see the hints of a smile at the edge of his lips, it didn’t fit Yorm whatsoever. But his creepy reutterance of the Archon’s prior words faded from thought as Elma’s new position made her realize something else.

She’d lost track of Razzda.

After rushing to the front of Nagsda’s head she had been too distracted to notice that Razzda hadn’t followed. Casting her glance around the mountainside as Yorm spoke, Elma couldn’t find even a hint as to where Razzda had gone to.

Until she saw something rising from Nagsda’s hair directly behind Maltop.

It was Razzda, lifting Bullminth’s Blade as she picked her way through Nagsda’s hair. She was trying to sneak up on Maltop, moving slowly yet struggling to keep her footing on the rotting flesh of the giant head.

Maltop was busy applauding for Yorm, but the Iris of the Archon’s eye shrank slightly as it stared at Elma. It moved, looking to the side for a moment until the Archon interrupted Yorm’s speech.

“Turn.” The simple command made Maltop spin in the air, just in time for Razzda to rear back and send a torn piece of Nagsda’s rotten flesh flying. It splattered against the Archon’s Eye, smearing against its surface and sending Maltop into a frantic scramble to clear it.

Razzda leaped, just barely managing to grab onto one of Maltop’s legs before he could float away. She quickly pulled back with Bullminth’s Blade and swung at Maltop, only for him to twirl away to keep her from

“Razz, no!” Yorm shouted to her, rearing back with his hatchet.

Elma growled before shoving herself forward, scrambling to her feet and grabbing a piece of stone. With little hope to reach Yorm in time, she quickly tossed the rock first. It struck him dead in the back, throwing off his aim as he let the Hatchet go spinning.

It struck the Archon’s Eye, bouncing off its strangely Glass-like surface and making Maltop swing wildly in the air. The Handle of the Hatchet smacked Razzda in the eye as it fell by, making her cry out as she swung Bullminth’s Blade and severed both of Maltop’s legs from his body in her blind flailing.

She fell, smacking into the side of Nagsda’s head and rolling off of it to the soiled mountainside. Yorm took a step towards her before glancing back to see Elma charging with her sword at the ready. He stepped back as she swung at him, locking his arms in place before lunging low at her. Elma brought her sword down on his head only for him to lean his head to the side at the last moment and let the blade sink into his shoulder.

Elma gasped as he spun, forcing her to stumble past him before catching herself beside a shaken Razzda.

“Almost had!” Razzda spat as she pushed herself up and eyed Yorm “Ruined it Fuzzy One!”

“Too close!” Maltop added as he floated behind Yorm, trailing blood from the stumps where his legs once were. In his hands were Yorm’s hatchet, which he offered as he settled on his back “Run now, Fuzzy! Not safe for Maltop.”

“What?” Yorm took the Hatchet and frowned “But the Blade! I-its dangerous, right? The Dream, its stealing people from it, right!?!”

“Trust me,” the Archon spoke through the Eye again “a tactical withdrawal is necessary. Even with them in this state, I’ll admit I underestimated just how much of a counter that Blade is to my usual tactics. We need to regroup.”

Maltop clung to Yorm’s back, smiling wide as Yorm slowly began nodding. He nodded faster, that odd smile reappearing as he backed up. Shakily backing down the slope at first Yorm spun before sprinting down the mountainside with Maltop cackling as they closed in on the Trade Fair.

The same Fair where Fulgan was, along with the wagon they were supposed to escape with.

Suddenly, the pain and exhaustion of the prior fights was once again regulated to the back of Elma’s thoughts. She forced herself up, trying to give chase as Razzda hurried to mimic her actions.

“Wait, Lady Lass!” Razzda called out as she hurried to catch up “Sloppy walkin’ gonna fall!”

“He’s-!” Elma cursed as she fought to maintain her balance going down the mountainside “He has Yorm, Razzda, he’ll tell him about Fulgan! That swindling wretch our only ride out of here!”

“But-!” Razzda’s next words came too late, as Elma once more lost her footing and went crashing against more rocks of the mountainside.

Luckily for her, the slope had begun evening out, leaving her rolling to a stop on a slanted gassy field. Her leather garb had dulled the edges of the rocks she fell across, leaving her only with more aches to ignore as she struggled to right herself again. The pain of exertion only grew worse as she pushed on, but she could see Yorm’s figure just ahead.

He was jogging towards the disassembled fair with Maltop clinging to him, Elma knew that catching him in her state was a long shot. But if she didn’t then that meant trying to smuggle Razzda and the sword to the south on her own. Given how empty most of the plains were and how unfamiliar she was with the area, she couldn’t even pretend as though she could pull it off.

Which meant pushing herself, forcing herself to run as Yorm neared the first carts.

He started slowing down, coming to a stop and turning around to see Elma making her way towards him.

“Stop!” Razzda’s voice was almost muted in Elma’s ears “Elma wait!”

Elma noticed the growing fear in her voice far too late.

Only when she saw that Yorm wasn’t raising his hatchet in preparation did she see them. Movement from the disassembled stalls and wagons behind Yorm. It was slight at first, but Elma quickly realized what she’d let herself get lured into .

Burybiters, Beetledrivers, and numerous other fairgoers began emerging from behind wagons and carts. Climbing atop one wagon, Caltop downed more Burnfount before leaning back and blowing into his horn.

Elma didn’t have time to try and turn away, as the moment that horn sounded the whinny of horses made her eyes snap to the side.

The Beetledrivers sped out of the camp, with several fairgoers on horses riding along with them. Elma back-pedaled, only to bump into something and spin to find Razzda clinging to her side with one hand as the other gripped tightly to Bullminth’s Blade.

There was no escape, the horses and beetles moved quickly in converging arcs until they managed to block off the mountain as a viable option.

Soon enough they were surrounded utterly, with Fairgoers and Burybiters at their sides, Beetledrivers and Horse riders at the rear, and directly in front of them stood Yorm with several Dreamers strolling merrily out from behind a pile of planks to stand at his side.

“Got ‘em!” Maltop cheered, scaling up Yorm’s Back to peek over his shoulder “Big brain Archon, biggest brain!”

“Brother!” Caltop called to him from atop the wagon “A-Are you? Okay? When monster break open Drypeak, fear for Brother. Now he missing legs….”

“Archon fix!” Maltop stated, turning back to Elma and Razzda “Just like fix messy ones here.”

Caltop hopped over the side of the wagon and approached him, eyes still focused on the stumps where his brother’s legs had once been.

“But-!” He reached out towards him, only for Luksen to appear from the crowd, she grabbed his shoulder to hold him back, shaking her head once he turned a confused look her way.

“Calm yourself, Overseer.” The Archon spoke, making Caltop flinch at the sound of his voice “Now is no time for woes. You’ve succeeded in following orders, and moved appropriately.”

“These the Remnants?!?”: One fairgoer shouted out.

“Ruined my gig.” another hissed while brandishing a large mallet.

Those were just some of the growing shouts and jeers being spewed by the angry mob surrounding them. Though they weren’t pushing in, many were brandishing tools and weapons with clear anticipation. They were waiting, either for them to show weakness or for the Archon to give his blessing.

Either way, Elma kept her sword at the ready, waiting for the first of them to charge. She had no idea what else to do. Even if there was a gap in the mob to escape through, those Beetledrivers and horse riders would outpace them before they got far.

Her instincts kicked in, making her hold firm even in an impossible scenario. Defend the sword, that was the only thing she could think of.

“Lady Lass?” Razzda’s voice was weak, the realization of how hopeless their scenario had just become clearly settling in.

“Goldie thief!” a Burybiter shouted “Take hands, good stew!”

Elma could practically hear Razzda swallow dryly at that, and briefly pulled a hand back to nudge her.

“We’ll try knocking one of those Beetledrivers down.” she stated “If you can get the beetle going in time-”

“Not fast like horsy,” Razzda winced “You ride horsy, yes?”

“Yes but-!”

“I present to you all, your unwanted saviors.” The deep boom of the Archon’s voice had silenced the crowd somewhat, with several glancing his way as others glared down Elma and Razzda “The Remnants… protectors of the realm who would put your livelihoods, your careers and your coin in jeopardy for some twisted sense of heroism.”

“Elma?” Razzda looked up at her “Ride horsy, yes?”

“Yes, but either way we need a distraction.” Elma bit “You’re out of the question so I’ll-”

“What?!?” Razzda seemed perplexed for some reason’

“They’ve stolen a dangerous relic.” The Archon continued, “And even now, would rather fight than show any consideration for their countrymen.

“I’ll die before I let them get that sword, Razzda.” Elma spat, only for Razzda to shake her head furiously.

“Not lose!” she stated “Not lose like Fuzzy one! Like Maltop!”

“If that’s what it takes...” Elma swallowed as Maltop raised a hand high. He was practically sitting on Yorm’s shoulder by now, letting his stumps trail darkened blood down his chest as he stood still as a statue with that sickening smile spreading further along his face.

“So I must ask aid from said countrymen, aid in ensuring the many shall not suffer for the ignorance of the few”

The crowd seemed to erupt with support, the fairgoers cheering as the Burybiters started chanting various insults and threats together.

“Here they come, get-!” Elma couldn’t finish, as just when Maltop shouted for the mob to charge.

A crossbow bolt blossomed from the inside of his mouth.