Chapter 8: The Junk Man
Fulgan had beaten her to the punch.
That was the sole realization that Elma struggled to fully accept. Sure, Razzda had a head start on her after the incident at the dig, but how had he done it? In such a small timeframe, Fulgan had set up the sale of Bullminth’s Blade and set to work on fulfilling it.
He’d had to have gotten in contact with her right as she reached the fair, but to move so quickly.
Elma hated it.
The Idea of giving him any credit for his quick work felt like insects crawling through her veins, their sharp edges digging into her body with every festering twitch.
Fulgan was not someone who deserved praise.
Elma sighed whilst staring down at the Glowing Smearmoss.
It was shimmering in the dark before Elma, radiating a soft bluish green that managed to illuminate the dark tunnels of the Beetle Burrow.
She reached out carefully, only plucking a small amount so as not to ruin the rare light source. As soon as the dry, stretchy moss was torn from the wall it slowly began to lose its luster. But as Elma pressed it against her injured nose, the soothing warmth it spread through her nostrils nearly made her forget the threat of darkness.
Nearly.
With her wounds not aching as much, she was able to turn her glare on Yorm, who was eyeing the branching tunnels with the same even look he always bore.
The further they’d gotten from Bullwing, the more branching tunnels they came across. Such was the nature of Beetle Burrows. With how dark they could be and how many crisscrossing paths they tended to have, getting lost in one was an ever-present threat.
And yet Yorm hadn’t shown even the slightest regard for the dangers of such a place.
It made Elma wish she’d asked Razzda more about her meeting place beforehand, if she had even one of those lanterns from the Beetledriver stable then she wouldn’t have to rely on clumps of Smearmoss to see or Yorm’s nose for directions
Wouldn’t have the thought of Fulgan's mocking cackle rising in her head.
“So then Lefty ended up threatenin’ to bury me alive, said I’d have a better chance getting to him that way.” Yorm sniffed the stale air several times “When I figured he was doing business underground, this place came to mind first.”
“Well…” Elma paused to inhale the pungent scent of the Smearmoss “I’m so glad that your plan of letting a Queenless Hiloqot shout at you managed to pay off.”
“Don’t get jealous, now.” Yorm looked back at her before narrowing his eye “Take it easy on that, by the way. The numbing turns to sluggishness if you aren’t careful. Even takin’ a page from Fulgan’s book and smoking whole clumps would be better at that point.”
“Speaking of which,” Elma approached whilst pulling the moss from her nose “you still never answered me, how could that wretched leech have set up this thing with Razzda so soon after she fled the dig site? His timing-”
“You can ask him when we catch up.” Yorm sniffed the air before gesturing towards a nearby tunnel “Your friend went this way.”
Elma eyed the tunnel, finding it identical to three others that led further into the burrow. Yorm’s nose had yet to fail so far, but the threat of getting lost was not easy to just overlook. Glancing back at him, she noted him looking back the way they came. When he turned and found her watching him, he raised his eyebrow again.
“What?”
“Are you certain?” Elma asked, prompting Yorm to roll his eye.
“Doubting a true child of Morgo’s nose.” He gave a heavy sigh before glaring at her “You know, not one of Lefty’s insults could rival this.”
“I’m being serious, Yorm!” Elma stood and gestured around them “I don’t know why Razzda chose a Burrow to deal in, but you can’t be too sure of your routes in here. My father once led a Warband through one to flush out some looters and they wound up stuck for almost two weeks!”
“Listen,” Yorm raised a hand before sniffing the air “Nurl blood mixed with soot and Beetle feces. There’s also the distinct smell of two liquors: Burnfount and Melkish drought. Now does that sound like your friend?”
Elma stepped back and thought for a second.
Her injured nose wasn’t able to compete with the abilities of a Morgonian’s, but just his description of Razzda’s scent seemed to line up. She lowered her head and nodded, prompting him to lead her deeper into the tunnel.
The Beetle Burrow was devoid of life, no traces of the creatures that once called it home. Elma figured that it could’ve been where the Beetledrivers got such a big herd, but with how dry the Smearmoss was she wasn’t so married to the idea.
The trade fair had only moved in about a month ago, and the tunnels seemed as though a beetle hadn’t scurried through them in at least a year. She couldn’t even see a hint of tracks anywhere she looked, though it was often too dark to properly view the floor.
As they moved further from Bullwing, she figured that they’d stop feeling the rumbles of him struggling to free himself. But they were still there, even as the tunnels began to widen up and Elma became increasingly aware of just how far they were traveling.
“Dear Lord, how big is this place?” She wound up asking as they entered into a larger nexus of tunnels “Does it lead under the whole of the plains?”
She examined tunnel after tunnel, only to realize Yorm wasn’t responding. She glanced back towards him, finding him staring at her beside another patch of Smearmoss. He crossed his arms and gave her a pointed look.
“What?” she asked, only for him to shake his head.
“You’re the sentry in these parts.” Yorm pointed to her before patting his chest “Fulgan and I followed the fair, so I should be asking you these things.”
“I already told you,” Elma brought the moss back up to her nose for a small rub “I never strayed this far north from my post.”
“Something we can all regret on our own time.” He shrugged before raising a hand towards another tunnel “Now listen…”
Elma had prepared to formulate a retort until his last words, going quiet as another distant rumble drew her attention. But as things grew silent again, she heard what he was actually referring to.
Voices were just barely echoing from a tunnel leading deeper into the Burrow. The words were incoherent but Elma had grown just familiar enough with Razzda’s awkward cackle to identify it immediately.
She nodded to Yorm, and they both descended further, drawing closer and closer as the conversation grew easier to understand.
“Right? Right?” Razzda’s voice echoed through the tunnel “We waiting! Get Lady Lass, maybe?”
“No.”
Another voice, but one far too deep and rumbly to be Fulgan.
“Many wounds! Lady Lass near Bullwing!” Razzda tried again “Razzda not big, not lift her like lift sharp one. You big buggy! You carry, back before boss.”
“The Rightster follows orders, ordered to… to watch?” the rumbly voice was silent for a moment “No… wait… The Rightster waits with Dal-Mezzi Nurl… protect Dal-Mezzi Nurl…”
“But Lady Lass-!”
“Not… part of the order.”
Yorm finally stopped at the end of the tunnel, with it seeming to open up into a large chamber. He held out a hand back to stop Elma as he peaked out of the tunnel’s mouth, only to lower his hand flat towards the ground. Taking the cue, Elma crouched low and pulled close to his side before looking around the chamber. It had been carved into a rough, ovular shape and looked like another nexus of tunnels.
Right before them was Razzda with her back to them, Bullminth’s Blade in her arms as she rapidly tapped her foot. She was looking towards a broken mound of rocks that lay in the very center of the chamber. Hanging from the ceiling above was a large shrub of Smearmoss illuminating the room. Beside that mound was a fallen pillar partially sunken into the ground. Sitting atop it with his back towards Razzda was another Hiloqot.
Both of his left arms ended in stumps. His remaining arms were busy sharpening something out of sight, pausing every so often to shake some drool from his mandibles.
“Not know when Junk Man come!” Razzda stepped towards the Hiloqot “Lady Lass save Razzda, Razzda save her, be even right?”
“The Rightster… follows orders.” he reached up to wipe some drool from his mandibles “She’s not in the order… her death is acceptable.”
Elma had to suppress a groan. Not one, but two Queenless Hiloqots in their only contact’s employ. If she had hated Fulgan before, his use of Lefty and the Rightster were wearing at what little patience she had left.
She even began to rise, only for Yorm to hold his hand in front of her.
She looked up with a raised eyebrow, but Yorm shook his head at her as another distant rumble shook the burrow.
“Bullwing not free!” Razzda looked around as dirt fell “Razzda certain, but… Lady Lass maybe get lost? She not taste walls like Razzda, not poof plenty like junk man.”
“Not part of the order.”
Razzda turned on him again, only for a cloud of black ash to quickly form between her and the Rightster.
Before it could even begin to fully dissipate, he spoke.
“Any idea, eh?” a long arm covered in black cloth emerged holding a metal chest “Any idea how hard this was?”
Just the sound of his voice made Elma sick, that deceptively carefree tone hiding a torrent of vice and spite just underneath. She’d hated it from the first time she’d heard it, and its owner had done nothing but reinforce her hatred in the small amount of time since their first meeting.
But she kept quiet as something else emerged from the cloud
It was a long, jagged-tipped piece of metal that served as Fulgan’s crutch as he limped his way out of the cloud.
The arm holding the crutch had a ragged brace built around it. The crutch managed to hold him up despite shaking in his grasp. As Fulgan turned towards Razzda and smiled, his mouth stretched up to the white piece of ceramic that hid the top of his face.
“For lesser traders, they’d probably say it was miserable.” He snickered as he dropped the chest and reached down to adjust his cloak “But you’re lucky, aren’t ya? Lucky to have someone who could change four-hundred single-poke tabs into solid gold so quickly, huh?!?”
His limp right leg dragged along the floor with the tattered lining of his cloak as he stumbled to the broken mound. Stabbing his crutch into the ground, Fulgan practically threw himself back against the mound before flinging the top of his hood back.
“Well go on!” he gestured to Razzda as he adjusted his mask, the narrow slits only revealing a hint of the red within “Count! Count and see! See the fruits of my labor in their glory!”
Razzda had leaped back at his sudden appearance, staying stock still until he drew her attention to the chest.
The Rightster rose from the pillar, turning around to reveal he was wielding only the head of an excessively large halberd. He was gripping it by what remained of its handle, both of his right hands tightened their grip on the halberd head once his large eyes found Yorm and Elma.
He turned to Fulgan before clicking his mandibles together.
Fulgan looked up, his good hand pulling a rusty tool from within his heavy cloak as the Rightster clicked at him. Fulgan’s smile, spread wide as his fangs elongated.
And he began clicking those teeth together in response.
Razzda was either unaware or unconcerned with the conversation going on. She’d dropped to her knees beside the chest and set Bullminth’s Blade aside before opening and pulling out a small rectangle of gold.
She pulled out another, putting the first one back before retrieving another.
And then she started biting them, chewing and suckling on numerous golden bricks before eventually finding their taste satisfactory.
“But…” her words finally broke Fulgan and the Rightster’s conversation, “Sharp one not like you.”
“Is that worry?” Fulgan chuckled as he brought the tool close to the brace covering his right arm and fiddled with the ramshackle contraption “Hear that, boy? She’s talking bout that ‘True Warriors only’ nonsense? Ha!”
“Truly… Unfortunate, sir.” The Rightster murmured
“But none but Razzda move it!”
Fulgan cursed as the tool slipped from his fingers, but he maintained his grin whilst reaching down to scoop it up.
“My dear little hoarder, you hail from a clan of thieving cannibals.” He gestured towards her with it “Preying on the Frozen North’s victims!”
“Worst than most scavengers.” The Rightster nodded
“Razzda not eat Nurl!” she said quickly before hugging a gold brick close “Nurl not tasty. Not shiny gold! Razzda not like clan, same as Mother Nurl!”
“The point being you’re hardly an ideal warrior, sweetness.” Fulgan tightened the bands of his arm brace “So the legend is worthless. The weapon gets heavy? I’ll just have a proper laborer carry it.”
He clicked his fangs together several times, prompting the Rightster to rear back before burying his halberd head into the ground and approaching.
“Orders must be followed…” He said as he stood over Bullminth’s Blade for a moment, clenching his chitinous hands before crouching down and clutching the handle and scabbard.
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He gave a few practice tugs before grunting and prying the weapon off the floor. It rose slowly at first but, eventually, the Rightster readjusted his stance before finally pulling it up. He lifted it up towards his chest as Razzda looked on with awe. Even Fulgan applauded, although he had to adjust his brace so he could properly slap his left hand against his right.
But Elma could tell he was straining.
She’d never seen a Hiloqot breath so heavily before, his arms trembling under the weight despite him managing to lift it. The Rightster gave no complaints, merely backing up slowly whilst clutching Bullminth’s Blade to his side the entire time.
“See?” Fulgan waved his good hand before clicking his teeth once.
The Rightster dropped Bullminth’s Blade, but the sword didn’t slam into the ground with immense force or bury itself in the dirt. It clattered on the ground as any regular blade would.
“Only feisty when someone it doesn’t like gets handsy.” Fulgan mused before looking the Rightster over “Bet a fully armed Bugger could even swing it.”
“Lefty’s aid could be… enlisted.” The Rightster suggested, his breaths were notably more labored than before “Together… more whole.”
“Then deal done?” Razzda stood up, still clutching the golden brick “Help save Lady lass, Junk man!”
“Save who?” Fulgan tightened his brace a bit before adjusting his arm once again “Not really in the helping market, hon. Not enough money or fun in it.”
“Lady lass save Razzda, help escape Fair!” Razzda set the brick back in the chest so she could point towards her nose “Matching nose hurts! But bad with buggy friends. Not want dead though. Left back with Bullwing, safe now but not long!”
Fulgan looked up before turning his gaze directly towards Elma and Yorm.
“Brown hair?” he asked Razzda, maintaining eye contact with Elma the entire time “lean frame? A head so thick yet empty you could smack it and hear the ringing hours away?”
“Razzda not know, she never check for ring!” Razzda’s words grew more desperate as she clasped her hands together “Please!”
Fulgan snorted, slipping his tool back into his coat whilst clicking his teeth together several times. The Rightster immediately turned and began examining the walls as Fulgan drew a rough-looking metal pipe from his coat.
“I wouldn’t worry for her,” Fulgan matched Elma’s glare with a smirk as he licked his lips “I feel far more concerned for you, little Nurl.”
Razzda tilted her head at that, prompting Fulgan to hold back another snicker. He and the Rightster shared a look before he turned his gaze towards Bullminth’s Blade.
“Oh? Were you perhaps expecting things to get easier once you were rid of this?” he nodded towards the sword “Do you even know what this is?”
“Shiny sharp stabber,” she answered immediately “Archon wants!”
“But why? Why does he want?” Fulgan asked, “And no, it’s not just because it’s shiny.”
Razzda lowered her hand.
“It’s a big… BIG problem for him.” He held out his pipe as the Rightster approached with clumps of Smearmoss in hand “Surely, you’ve killed someone with it, seen it eat. It swallows the very essence of its victims almost like how the Dream does.”
The Rightster came to his side and placed a clump of Smearmoss into the very tip of Fulgan’s pipe before pressing it deep. Fulgan held the pipe between his lips and lowered it as he drew some flint and steel from his coat and maneuvered his brace.
“So, Archon want… because same work-like?” Razzda guessed, prompting Fulgan to go still.
He managed to light his pipe, pocketing the flint and steel before leaning back and taking a deep breath.
“How many years have you lived, sweetness?”
“Ah!” Razzda held up her hands to count “Nine? Yes, when Nagsda bore Razzda!”
Fulgan snorted in amusement.
“Barely a third through life…” the Rightster noted “Sword chose a runt.”
“Ah, the bliss of youth.” Fulgan shook his head before leaning back “You’ve probably never even considered an Altez without the Archon’s rule, right? But there are some battered dogs that dream of it, thirst for it no matter how much he beats them into the filth.”
Fulgan took another long drag from his pipe.
“Now these… the dogs.” He coughed a bit whilst trying to hold onto the smoke “Got real close a few decades-”
He couldn’t hold it, and wound up coughing up a ragged cloud of smoke. The Rightster was quick to pat him on the back for a moment, only for Fulgan to wave him off once he recovered.
“Almost had him, till he turned it all back around by outsmarting them!” Fulgan massaged his throat through the heavy black clothing “Broke the Alliance’s spine with cunning and-!”
“What nonsense!”
The words came out before Elma even realized she was speaking, but regret was the farthest thing from her mind. She pushed past Yorm as he sighed, stepping out into the chamber as Fulgan leaned back with that infuriating smile of his.
“Lady Lass!” Razzda cheered the second she spotted her, almost rushing to greet her before pausing and looking back to her chest of gold “Glad you good, Razzda thought-”
Elma wasn’t hesitating, immediately dropping to one knee before Razzda and grabbing her shoulder.
“I’m fine, my wounds are of nil importance compared to Bullminth’s Blade.” She explained before glaring at Fulgan “And this one seems far more concerned with slandering his allies than properly explaining.”
“Unimpressed with my story-tellin’?” Fulgan snorted “Why? Because I won’t gussy up the Alliance’s greatest failure?”
“They didn’t fail!” Elma was about to continue before realizing that Razzda was looking between her and Fulgan with growing confusion “Look, it turned out your Junk Man was actually a contact of the Alliance who-”
“Remnants.” Fulgan quickly interjected, prompting Elma to rise to her feet.
“No, you don’t get to call us that!” Elma pointed to him “It’s one thing for the Archon to spread his filthy propaganda, but you work with us!”
“Is it even propaganda if it’s true?” Fulgan asked with a casual wave of his pipe “Last I checked, an Alliance needs at least two Nations backing it. Not much o’ that happening since that mess up north. In fact!”
Fulgan grabbed hold of his crutch before shadow walking in front of them, hobbling around them as he nodded to Elma.
“Go ahead, tell her why she’s stuck with you!” he narrowed his eyes behind that mask “Tragedy is best heard from friends, after all.”
Elma held back a growl, but a single poke from Razzda brought her attention back to the confused Nurl.
“Lady Lass friend with Junk Man, right?” She asked before grinning “Then all happy, right? You get sharp one!”
“It’s…” Elma gripped both of Razzda’s shoulders “Please, I need you to listen. Okay?”
Razzda’s smile disappeared but her yellow eyes stayed locked with Elma’ as she nodded.
“The Archon cheated… okay?” she declared “He cheated the Alliance out of a victory decades ago. They killed him, you hear me? He was slain by a hero, damn it!”
Elma had to catch herself, taking a breath before steeling herself.
“But then he possessed his killer… and just kept going.” She shook her head “Convinced everyone, he couldn’t be stopped!”
“Right…” even though Razzda kept nodding, Elma could still see it. The disconnect in her gaze, she still wasn’t getting it.
“But the Blade of Bullminth was made back during the Fifth Scourge, specifically to devour the very essence of those it kills!” Elma gave Razzda a shake “It can trap the Archon before he gets a chance to jump into someone new! It can end the Seventh Scourge!”
“Good then!” Razzda perked up at Elma’s enthusiasm, but she could tell it still hadn’t registered.
“Razzda…” Elma glanced towards Bullminth’s Blade “if you’re the only one who can wield it properly-”
“Then we’re all lookin’ at the Archon’s future killer, lads!” Fulgan cheered with a shaky bow “Congratulations, sweetness!”
Razzda chuckled at that, grinning at Fulgan before turning back to Elma and finding an even stare waiting for her. Elma could see it, the edges of her smile losing their strength. Ever so slowly, that humored expression died right in front of her as Razzda looked toward Fulgan.
When she got only a smirk from him, she began twisting in Elma’s grasp. Elma let go, letting Razzda step back as growing panic spread across her features.
“Funnies!” she tried to smile again “Lady Lass and Junk Man make funny joke, right?”
She looked around once more.
“Right...?”
The silence was deafening, and soon enough Razzda frowned before folding her arms
“Nope.”
It was the simplest of answers.
“Ah!” Fulgan looked to the Rightster “What I tell ya? You owe me ten five-pock tabs, boy!”
“The Rightster does not possess currency.” The Rightster said whilst giving his halberd head a once-over.
Elma had hoped that Razzda would at least think it over, but Razzda's refusal was as straightforward as it was disappointing.
“Razzda please,” Elma clasped her hands together “at least think about-!”
“Crazy-think, Lady Lass.” Razzda raised an eyebrow at her “Chop-Chop Archon? Razzda? Why?”
“Because he’s evil, damn it!” Elma clenched her hands “The Seventh Scourge of Altez! He’s soaked in the blood of millions!”
“Then get big Buggy!” Razzda pointed to the Rightster “He lift, yes? Get better buggy, with more arms! Many Arms!”
“Now that’d be a fine option, sweetness!” Fulgan shook some ash out of his pipe before looking away “Problem being that our favorite Dream Master probably won’t be too keen on just standing there and getting stabbed, you follow? So, whoever’s doing it actually has to… ya know, beat him.”
“Which wasn’t even easy the first time.”
Elma looked back to see Yorm leaning against the wall of the chamber beside the tunnel they’d entered from. He closed his eyes and tilted his head up to think.
“Alliance put all its bets on the Steel Gladiator cuz’ the man was a natural killing machine.” He looked to Razzda “The Archon has his body now, so I figure it’ll be even worse than the last time they fought him.”
“Razzda not want him more angry!” Razzda shook her head and crouched over her chest of gold “She mess with Sharp one. Bad times already. Killing Archon? Sound like worst times!”
“Think about all the people he’s hurt, the loved ones he’s taken.” Elma tried again “Do you even know what the Dream does to them? How it breaks them and turns them into-”
“Not make crazy talk less crazy, Lady Lass!” Razzda pulled a gold brick from the chest and hugged it “Razzda get shiny back to hoard, forget bad times.”
“So you don’t even care?!?” Elma could feel her head wound aching “You’d rather run back to your hoard and let that heartless monster keep hold of our homeland?!?”
“Yes, Lady Lass!” Razzda nodded fiercely “You get it!”
“But…” Elma found her words start to fail her, “What about everyone who’s died fighting for a free Altez?”
“Okay,” Razzda shook her head “Lady Lass not get it.”
Setting the gold brick into the chest, Razzda turned around and brushed her hands together before tilting her head at Elma.
“Fight Dream man, Razzda die.” She stated before nodding back to the chest “None to build Razzda hoard, no more shiny. Worst thing, most worst thing!”
Elma felt as though she was talking to a wall, the sheer threat the Archon posed to Altez practically non-existent to Razzda. It was a familiar confusion. One she’d felt numerous times back in Olmerra. But Razzda, her refusal reminded Elma of just how far the Archon’s corruption had seeped into Altez. Not the arcane corruption of the Dream, but how much he’d managed to stamp out defiance to his rule.
Their little bug ride had almost made Elma forget that Razzda was working with the Burybiters before getting the sword stuck to herself and messing up the dig. They had been helping the Archon. In fact, if she hadn’t gotten the sword stuck to her, it was likely Elma would’ve had to fight through her to get it just like the rest of the Nurl.
Just like every Nurl, placing their Hoards above any semblance of propriety or righteousness.
But they still needed her, no matter how much Elma hated it.
Realizing that her pleas for bringing the Archon to justice were getting her nowhere, Elma turned back to Yorm.
“Say something!” she asked, prompting him to raise an eyebrow
“Didn’t I say knowing a Nurl’s hoard should make this easy?” Yorm pushed away from the wall and gestured towards her “How are you this bad at negotiating?”
“Mock me later, after you talk her into helping!”
“Razzda not help!” Razzda stomped her little foot on the ground before moving to pick up her chest “Now Lady Lass speak circles, not good for-”
Razzda’s words died when Fulgan’s crutch pierced the ground between her and the chest. She looked up as the Yisshin collapsed, sliding down his crutch until he and Razzda were eye-level.
“Don’t let Lanky Lass frighten you off, sweetness!” he cooed as he jerked a thumb back towards the chest “She just hasn’t gotten around to the real reward. Mountains on mountains of gold that make this look paltry in comparison!”
Razzda froze up at his words.
“Got ya fancy, eh?” Fulgan scooted closer and wrapped a thin arm around her “The Alliance was plannin’ on drowning the Steel Gladiator in riches. Imagine what the Remnants could offer ya, desperate as they are.”
“We’re not-!” Elma felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked back to see Yorm shaking his head.
Biting her tongue, she crossed her arms and watched as Razzda approached the chest and knelt beside it. She rubbed it, her fingers pawing at its edges as she gave the occasional glance towards Bullminth’s Blade.
“Razzda know what doing, Junk Man.” She whined as she hugged the chest “She want big shiny hoard, but hoard not grow if Razzda dead.”
Elma felt Yorm nudge her forward, and looked back with a glare before taking a breath and stepping forward.
“Look… we aren’t asking you to go in alone. We’ll help!” She said before swallowing dryly “And train you! With how fast you are with Bullminth’s Blade, just think about how good you could be with actual training!”
Razzda still clung to the chest, mewling in discomfort as Fulgan turned back to give Elma a wide grin. She felt sick at the sight of his fangs extending, but Fulgan gestured for her to keep going.
“You could be the deadliest Nurl of our time.” she walked to Razzda and knelt beside her. “Capable of defending your… your hoard, and building it up faster than you have so far.”
Razzda looked up at her with more wide-eyed distress, but her words seemed to have some effect. The hint of a smile was pulling at the edges of her lips, but she just wasn’t getting to the agreement.
Before Elma could try something new, another distant rumble came. Pieces of dirt broke from the roof and Razzda clung to her chest as Fulgan struggled to climb back up his crutch with one hand.
“That can’t still be Bullwing, right?” Elma asked before looking to Yorm “We walked so far.”
“Its not.” Was his only response before turning and approaching Razzda “Look, how about we help you get away from the Archon for now? You come with us to the southeast and our allies can show you the offer. If ya don’t like it you can take this gold for the sword and we’ll try findin’ a Hiloqot who can put it to use.”
“Hmmm, just no cheat Razzda.” She stood up and spat in her palm “I bite if cheat, Fuzzy one.”
“Agreed.” Yorm didn’t hesitate to lean down and shake the Nurl’s saliva splattered hand.
Razzda’s grin returned in force as she pulled back and clung to her chest of gold, trying to carry it only for the weight to immediately make her start listing to the side. Elma stepped forward to help her, pressing a hand against the side of the chest before it could fall.
“Now,” Yorm looked from Razzda to Fulgan rubbing his hand on his armor “I hope you two know the way out.”
“Why?” Elma asked before eyeing the tunnel they came from “What’s making that rumbling?”
“Don’t know,” Yorm shrugged whilst helping Fulgan up “but it’s getting closer. The Archon might have a small number of Dreamers to work with out here, but that don’t mean he can’t make one of his Flesh Sculptures out of ‘em.”
“Right, like the abomination at the dig.” Elma murmured, only to freeze as both Yorm and Fulgan’s heads shot up at her words. Both of them stared straight at her with wide eyes, prompting Elma to freeze up. But before she could voice her confusion, Yorm pulled away from Fulgan and stomped over.
“There was one at the dig?” he asked, eye practically boring into her “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Well, you tore off after hearing about the Host seeing me.” Elma frowned “Never let me get around to it changing, growing large and malformed.”
Fulgan gave a sigh before grinning “Let me guess, Lanky Lass, giant walking mouth?”
Elma nodded, prompting Yorm to grimace and step away. Fulgan shambled over to the Rightster and started clicking his teeth again.
“Lady?”
Elma looked down at Razzda, who seemed almost as lost as she was.
“Why your friends have fear?” she asked, prompting Elma to shrug.
“Because,” Yorm massaged the sides of his head before nodding towards Elma “she has a Mawler trackin’ her.”
Elma went rigid at that, and Razzda was quick to pick up on it. She clutched her gold chest tighter, but it was suddenly torn from both of their grasps by Fulgan, who quickly shadow stepped over to Bullminth’s Blade as Razzda turned to growl at him.
“Hey! Razzda’s!” she declared, only for him to nod down towards the sword.
“You’ll get it back, sweetness.” He shook his head before tilting his head towards the Rightster “Meantime, my boy here will help you out while I move my goods.”
Razzda wasn’t having any of that, and charged towards her chest only for Fulgan to shamble into another cloud of Black ash and disappear. She tripped over Bullminth’s Blade, colliding with the floor as the Rightster stepped towards the tunnel on the other side of the cave.
“New orders… follow.” Was all he said before turning and making his way out of the chamber.
Razzda punched the floor.
“Better not!” she grumbled “Not Cheat Razzda… Razzda bites!”
“You can bite him all you want once we’re out of here.” Elma crouched beside her to help her up “If that thing’s a Mawler then… damn it.”
Elma had no one but herself to blame. Her encounters with the Archon’s minions had been solely restricted to Dreamers, having heard of his other monstrosities only in stories. The giant mouth in its torso should have been a dead giveaway, but her focus on Bullminth’s Blade had blinded her.
Another distant rumble shook the burrow, Elma couldn’t convince herself that it wasn’t closer.
“It means we move.” Yom stated as he sniffed at the air “While we still have time.”