The main column of the expedition had halted to rest and eat while teams went ahead to investigate routes through the final stretch of jungle. Normally scouts and wayfinders for a large expedition would range many miles ahead, screening the main group and using horses to quickly come and go. In the Bloodsucking Forest that was impossible, and not merely because horses couldn’t traverse the terrain.
Scouts in the forest had to be able to reliably detect any monsters that might imperil the main column and send warning. If a scouting party missed something, or was defeated by a surprise attack, it would allow the hostile creatures of the forest to take the main expedition force unaware. They had already seen the danger of inadequate scouting with the razorfly attack on the first day, when a swarm had approached from their ill-guarded rear.
The need for powerful and skilled scouts who could raise the alarm – or deal with monsters on their own – meant that they were understaffed, while the dense jungle and lack of horses made sending messages painfully slow.
As a result, many of the wayfinders were instead joining the scouting teams as backup, meaning the expedition was slowed still further whenever an inadequately investigated trail proved a dead end.
The groans when Thunderbolt reached the rest of the expedition to report another blocked path were short lived however, dispelled as Marcus proudly produced the squirming sack containing ‘his’ discovery.
There was a stir as the bag was opened in the middle of the makeshift camp to reveal the strange ugly worms, adventurers in particular crowding around to get a look at the prospective new monsters.
A jovial mood arose as various experts examined the creatures and proclaimed them totally new.
With the Baron, guildmaster and captain of the Lastborn all present, any potential celebration was smothered, but even Baron Faron himself seemed elated.
Clambering awkwardly onto a crate placed by his retainers, he addressed the group.
“Ladies and gentlemen, brave adventurers and stalwart soldiers, my thanks to each and every one of you for your marvelous efforts thus far in tackling this devilishly tricky forest! It’s been quite the trial, eh? But today our tribulations begin to show fruit, with the discovery of a truly bizarre new beasty here in our very own Bellwood!”
There were cheers from some quarters, in particular the Baron’s soldiers and the delegates from the Solar Church.
“Yes yes! And a jolly good show finding these baffling wrigglers too! But this is merely the appetizer!” the Baron declared proudly.
“These finds are a tantalizing morsel to whet our appetites for the feast to come; the mimic! Darling Lyanna and her Thunderbolt have promised to lead us to the beast – and they would never let us down. Thusly it shall fall to us all to make good on the capture of the blighter! I know each and every one of you shall put his life on the line at my side when it comes time!”
Lyanna and Dolm exchanged a glance, but neither was foolish enough to say what they were thinking.
“But all that’s yet to come. For today, the afternoon grows long and the road as been hard; you’ve all earned yourselves a good rest, my fine companions! We shall stop here for the night, and as a token of my thanks there shall be double rations. Why, I daresay we could even break out the booze, don’t you think, my ladies?”
That got a far greater cheer than anything else in the speech, Jalera and Ondora both looking displeased, but knowing better than to try to rescind the suggestion once it was made.
It seemed there was to be a celebration after all.
~~~
In the golden glow of the late afternoon casks of wine were already circulating.
The camp had been made good for the night, needlegrass burnt away and tents erected, so with progress halted early for the day the party was in full swing. Groups had gathered around each of a dozen large fires and drinks were flowing. Meat brought back by the scouts crackled on spits.
Lyanna felt for those members of the group who were stuck on watch.
Having been quick to point out that the monsters were his discovery, Marcus was the centre of attention. Drinks were repeatedly thrust into his hands as he told and retold the tale. It had grown in the telling at a remarkable pace; presently he was with several stone-rank women, recounting the moment he slew the broodmother; a beast ten foot tall, with fangs like swords, firing lightning in all directions.
Marcus squawked when he tried to extract one of the worms from the sack to show off to his audience. Dropping the bag, he almost let the creatures wriggle away.
Laughter echoed around the sides of the valley, but through slurred speech Marcus insisted indignantly that anyone would react that way.
Taking pity on her little brother, Lyanna backed him up, attesting to the painful nature of the shocks the creatures could dispense.
After that the more daring adventurers and mercenaries took turns touching them, commenting on how painful (or painless) the jolt was and observing how the flash lit up the darkening evening.
Others simply marveled at the bizarre forms of the monsters, tossing them scraps of meat and observing how the creatures rolled themselves over the food to consume it. It was as if their entire body was a long gut.
Laughter resounded again as a studious aide of Guildmaster Bomond got too close to one of the feeding worms; the electrical shock had knocked him out cold.
Lyanna was the one who dragged the worm off the man as it tried to roll onto him too.
She hadn’t felt much like drinking, and with Dolm and Marcus both deep in their cups already, someone needed to stay sober.
Slinging the slight form of the assistant over her shoulder, she carried him away from the fireside.
She had meant to take him to Bomond, but the Guildmaster was the one who found her. As Lyanna walked between tents she saw the outline of his shield against the gloom. With their owners all gathered around the fires reveling, the tents were empty, few torches lit in that part of the camp.
Usually stern, there was a sheepish look on his face as he took the unconscious assistant from her and heard her explanation.
“Thank you, Lyanna. I’ve told Eustas before to be careful with live specimens, but he really is an expert on monsters.”
Bomond hitched the olive-skinned researcher up higher on his shoulder, opposite his huge greatshield. “This should be a good learning experience for him.”
“You didn’t come to find me just for Eustas, did you Guildmaster?” Lyanna asked.
“Ah… no, I didn’t realize he was with you. I was coming about the monsters themselves. Lady Ondora, the Baron and I were discussing the matter. It’s been decided that they were found on this expedition, so they belong to the expedition as a whole.”
“And not to Thunderbolt as a party? What about guild procedure? We’re employed to catch the mimic, anything else we find is ours to keep.”
Bomond sighed, looking irritated.
“Lyanna, these are special circumstances. The Baron himself is part of the expedition, and he agreed with Lady Ondora that the monsters were found through the efforts of all of us. He’s right too – everyone here is risking their lives together. Even Jalera accepted it in the end.”
“And you’re going along with that?”
Bomond’s face darkened. “The Guild will respect the Baron’s wishes on the matter – and you’ll do the same if you’re as smart as I think you are. Talk to that brother of yours too; make sure he doesn’t do something stupid when he finds out. We don’t need any more trouble with the Lastborn. Understood?”
“Yes… Guildmaster Bomond.”
He turned to leave.
“Just one question.”
“What is it, Lyanna?” he asked wearily. “I’m not going to change my mind on this you know.”
“No, I’m not asking you to. I just wondered… how are you able to carry that enormous, heavy greatshield, when you’re entirely missing your spine?”
Bomond dropped his assistant.
The young man fell with a crunch on the rocky earth.
As the guildmaster turned back to face Lyanna his face was creased with wrath.
He advanced, finger jabbing at her chest.
“Watch your mouth, girl!”
He spat the word like a curse, all pretense of camaraderie dropped.
“You may be a gold-ranker, but if you don’t catch that mimic it’ll be your head that the baron serves up on a platter to the capital. And the heads of your little thunder trio!”
Lyanna opened her mouth to protest, but Bomond shouted her down. “Silence! This mess is yours, and you have the nerve to insult me?! Learn your place and show the proper respect for your guildmaster!”
Lyanna bit her lip as flecks of spittle hit her cheek.
“Is that understood?!”
“Yes….”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, Guildmaster Bomond.”
He nodded, looking pleased with himself. Thick fingers brushed the glob of spit from her cheek, then lingered, smearing the fluid across her soft skin.
“That’s more like it.”
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Lyanna’s heart pounded, fear of what was coming next sending quivers through her body.
She’d never fought Bomond, but he’d partied with a diamond ranker for years and had the strength to heft his colossal shield with ease – she doubted she could overpower him – and he surely knew better than to let her scream….
His hand moved lower on her face, towards her throat.
Bomond looked her in the eye. She saw nothing but contempt in his gaze.
The sounds of drunken celebrants approaching through the maze of tents were a blessing from the gods.
Hearing the crude song of a pack of adventurers, the guildmaster released her.
He turned and stalked off, dragging the unconscious assistant by the heel.
Eustas left a track of blood, from the man’s broken nose.
~~~
The following morning the expedition started painfully early, at least for those like Marcus, who had overindulged the night before.
There had been a predictable argument when the Baron’s men came to collect the monsters. Marcus and several of his drinking partners had narrowly avoided punishment thanks to Lyanna’s intervention – but he’d made his feelings loudly clear as ‘his’ discovery was ‘stolen’ from him. The sack with the monsters was now locked up in a cage on a wagon, guarded by one of the Baron’s men.
With the valley Thunderbolt had investigated ruled out, the expedition was forced to proceed up a steep hillside after decamping.
The first mile or so was slow going, multiple stoppages occurring due to the dense trees and loose rocky earth, but the route was relatively safe.
That changed as they finally ascended above the tree-line.
They were high enough to finally leave behind the dense jungle, but if anything the hillside was even more overgrown.
Bulbous ranoma trees populated the slope, shaped like barrels. Some were just a foot tall, but others towered overhead. All were clad in thick, chitinous bark, waterproof and hard as stone. At their tops comically short branches emerged like scraggly hair, bearing sweet-scented red flowers with thick fleshy petals.
Despite the warnings from adventurers well used to the dangers of the forest, several of the luggage bearers and mercenaries were bitten when they tried to take a closer sniff. Touching the probing tongue-like stamens would trigger the ‘petals’ to hinge shut, the mouth attempting to gouge out a chunk of flesh.
The roots of the trees were equally dangerous. Unable to absorb moisture through their bark, the roots were bare, exposing soft plant matter that oozed sticky blue sap. Anything touching ranoma roots would receive it a painful burn – the brightly colored liquid could eat through even stone.
The whole hillside was coated in a mesh of the neon growths, spreading out from the bulbous trunks in tangles that wove in and out of the rocks, turning stone to rubble.
The wayfinders had cut open a switchback path clear of roots ahead of the expedition, but the incline was still challenging, not least due to the loose rocks that covered it. The baron was forced to exit his litter to stagger up the slope on foot, while the carts were carried as much as pushed and pulled, four people to each.
Having already ascended with the first wave of adventurers, Lyanna was watching the Lastborn climbing up right behind them, when disaster struck.
One of the first mercenaries stumbled near the top of the slope, body stiffening as he toppled over, falling into his neighbor and setting off a small cascade of pebbles. The pair tumbled down into the web of roots below, the second man screaming and scrabbling for purchase on the loose material as his armor started to smoke.
Shouts sounded as a rumbling wave spread down the hillside, but it was too late.
More people were swept up as the rockslide grew and spread, half a dozen more of the Lastborn on the loop below hit by the cascading stones. Some of them were sent falling down the hill too.
Baron Faron looked terrified, stumbling backwards in his armor just a few yards behind those struck, clinging to the legs of his guards on the unstable surface.
On the loop below that a contingent of luggage bearers was directly in the path of the growing avalanche.
Multiple carts smashed to splinters. People were bludgeoned and buried.
From the hilltop Lyanna saw red marks where the dust was settling.
Many of the Lastborn were struggling in the tangle of roots further up, their allies cutting them free, bloodied and burnt but alive.
Those who had been waiting to ascend started digging out the trapped baggage carriers.
Healers from the church were quick to offer their magic too – to heal the Lastborn.
By the time the survivors had been extricated from the roots and the buried victims exhumed, the death toll was eleven – one of the Lastborn and ten from the baggage train.
Lady Ondora was already demanding blood as her retinue crested the hill, as if that already spilt was insufficient.
Jalera and Bomond were able to delay any further recriminations until the rest of the expedition had made the ascent.
The baron looked ready to collapse on reaching the top. So did many among the baggage train, who had to haul carts up an unstable slope still stained with the blood of their colleagues.
All told, several dozen people were injured in addition to the deaths. There was no choice but to make camp atop the hill, despite the early hour.
When the cause of the accident was discovered things only got worse.
The first knight to fall insisted he had been attacked – by one of the very creatures Marcus had discovered the day before.
Initial sweeps of the hill turned up no such creature, but Lieutenant Jowe of the Lastborn produced the offending worm after he joined the search.
It was dead, crushed by the rockslide, but with the body found the young knight was taken at his word; the monster had been alive and had attacked him – meaning the incident certainly couldn’t be his fault.
But that didn’t mean no-one was to blame.
The wagon where the creatures had been stored was inspected. It was undamaged by the falling rocks, yet the contents of the sack had been replaced with a few coiled up tree branches.
An emergency meeting was convened once the Baron’s tent had been erected.
Lyanna was among those summoned.
“I spoke to the man in question personally,” Lady Ondora announced, the moment all were gathered.
Most present were standing, but she was seated at the baron’s right. With the baron sagging listlessly in his seat she seemed to have decided she was leading the meeting.
“There can be no doubt that this was a cowardly and unprovoked attack against the noble Lastborn! Those responsible must be punished most severely for the crime of killing a noble – and for endangering Lord Faron!”
She glared around the tent as she spoke. Her narrow features made no effort to hide her contempt as she met Jalera’s eye, as if daring the adventurer to defy her.
“And just who is it we are to punish?” Jalera asked.
Ondora smiled. The expression was cruel on her tight lips. “Why we have the ringleader right here of course.”
With a click of her fingers two of the Lastborn entered, dragging between them a figure. Through a black eye and bloodied features Lyanna recognized the boy.
“I imagine you recall this animal, which trespassed upon this very tent mere days ago to steal from Lord Faron. I warned you then that the cur couldn’t be trusted; now the beast has turned murderous in his lust for vengeance!”
The fox-eared young man hung limply in the hands of the mercenaries, unconscious or beaten into submission.
“I had Lieutenant Jowe interrogate the wretch. Beastfolk are as treacherous as they are violent – he was quick to give up his co-conspirators and spill his plans. Jowe, report.”
The lieutenant nodded respectfully to the Baron as he stepped up to the table to speak.
“On a tip from a common-born mercenary we found the two missing creatures in the cart the fox was pulling. The animal admitted everything. He meant to take the monsters found by the expedition for himself.”
A ripple of dismayed murmurs circulated the tent. Many had a performative air about them, as if they’d already known what would be said. Jowe looked entirely too pleased with himself, as did Ondora.
“He made a deal with an adventurer named Adrick, one of the scouts, to smuggle the monsters out of the camp and hide them in a nearby cave. Once the expedition was over this Adrick would return to collect them, and split the profits with the fox. Perhaps unknown to Adrick, the beast also planned to use one of them to take revenge for his earlier arrest.”
“That’s not right.”
Jalera had opened her mouth to reply, but all eyes turned to Lyanna.
Only belatedly did she realize that it would have been smarter to let Jalera draw Lady Ondora’s ire.
“Lyanna, was it?” Ondora asked coldly, each word articulated with dangerous precision. “Why, exactly, is that?”
It was too late now.
“I know Adrick; he’s a silver ranker from Faron. I’ve worked with him before and I trust him. He wouldn’t do something like this. This story doesn’t make any sense.”
The Baron still looked pale, but it seemed Lyanna’s interruption had roused him. “N-now just what are you suggesting here my dear? It’s all well and good to say you know the man, but we have Lady Ondora’s word on this matter – I find this most disrespectful behavior!”
“My Lord,” Lyanna spoke carefully, sweat beading in the small of her back, under her armor.
“This plan could never work, and Adrick would have understood that. Even if Adrick and the beastfolk could recover the creatures, it would be impossible for them to claim the rewards for them without exposing themselves as thieves – even without what happened on the hill today.”
“Pah, proof of the inferior minds these animals have.” Ondora declared. “As for Adrick, well he consorted with the beast, perhaps it affected his intelligence too. Or else it may have been greed dulling his mind.”
Arguing with Ondora further was a mistake, Lyanna knew, but a look at the bleeding beastfolk spurred her on.
“If this confession is true then how could one of the creatures have been on the hillside ahead of the Lastborn, when the beastfolk was pulling a cart at the bottom?”
Ondora smirked.
“Yes, we wondered the same thing. Of course we aren’t so well acquainted with Adrick as you are, Lyanna…. Perhaps you might have some idea of how the creature came to be there? Or… maybe your brother would?”
Jowe nodded. His smirk was nauseating. “We all heard him last night, throwing a drunken fit about the monsters being taken from him, as if they were somehow his own property.”
“What are you suggesting?!” Lyanna asked, aghast at the insinuations.
“He knew where the beasts were, and how to handle them. He also knew Lady Ondora and his Lordship the Baron had declared them property of the expedition. It would have been easy for him to help Adrick in the theft, a good way to get back what was ‘his’ – and keep hold of one of the monsters to use for a little revenge against his employers.”
It was nonsense – Lyanna knew it from the smug looks on the faces of the gathered Lastborn. More than that, she knew her brother. For all his faults, Marcus wasn’t a thief or a murderer.
But her word counted for nothing if Marcus stood accused.
Looking back and forth between the highborn duo Lyanna wanted to scream, to tell them what liars they were, to beat some sense into them both and make them regret trying to frame her family.
But that would only seal Marcus’ fate.
A lifeline came from an unexpected direction, as Jalera spoke.
“You think adventurers so foolish as to throw away our lives for a grudge and a little coin?”
Ondora laughed mirthlessly. “Would I be wrong? You’re all here in the gods-forsaken forest, aren’t you?”
“As are you. If this beastfolk boy has confessed his theft then so be it, but the rest of this story is pure imagining.”
“Imagining?! He named his conspirator!” Ondora spat.
“Yet you appear unsatisfied even with that; you accuse more of us. It seems any adventurer to displease you is part of this conspiracy. Perhaps I am trying to kill you too?”
“You peasant trash!”
Ondora’s hand was on the hilt of her sword, but Jalera locked eyes with her, the air in the room growing suddenly dense and heavy.
“Peasant, yes, I was born one – and if I have any say I shall die one too. I find a certain perspective in that.”
Essence swirled in menacing sparkles from the brown skin of the older adventurer.
“We all die, Lady Ondora. It is only a question of how soon.”
When the noblewoman held her tongue, the tension ebbed.
Lyanna released a breath, as did many others.
Jalera continued the discussion as if nothing had happened.
“This beastfolk, if his word is not enough to clear his name then nor is it enough to tarnish another. With no other evidence, we will punish him and only him for the theft. Nothing further.”
Ondora gasped. “You cannot mean to allow the killing of a noble to go unpunished?!”
“You have no more than the desperate lies of a tortured thief. Even if that were not so, already we are using everyone with scouting experience. This Adrick is needed. As is Marcus and his party – unless you plan to take over the tracking of the mimic for us?”
Ondora thumped the table, the wooden surface crumpling under her fist. “One of my knights is dead, do you understand that, Jalera?!”
“I believe that is generally seen as an occupational hazard,” the adventurer responded.
It could have been the slight wrinkles that came with the diamond-ranker’s age, but Lyanna thought there was a hint of a smile around the older woman’s mouth, as they discussed the killing of the highborn mercenary.
Bomond cleared his threat. “Ahem, we can’t act hastily here. Especially with the adventurers – if we blame Adrick or Marcus there will be violence.”
The guildmaster’s words were carefully measured, but still earnt a death-glare from Ondora and Jowe. He continued despite them.
“Nor can the Guild let its’ members to be punished only on the word of a known thief – as Guildmaster, I won’t allow it. This beastfolk could just be trying to set us against each other and sabotage the expedition.”
“Well, Bomey has a point there I suppose.” The baron nodded, rubbing his chin. “But justice must be seen to be done you know, a man is dead!”
“Eleven are dead, men and women,” Jalera reminded him.
The Baron was quick to nod. “Yes yes, there were baggage handlers too, of course, nasty business that. So all the more reason we must act. If there are no other culprits then that scoundrel must take responsibility! I could have been hurt you know, and we wound up with yet another delay… he even crushed my favorite chair and put a hole in one of my best doublets….”
Though Jalera protested, in the end the Baron had his way.
The other adventurers would be cleared of all suspicion. The beastfolk would take the blame.
He would pay with his life.
Lyanna couldn’t help but recall Bomond’s words to her the previous night, as the lifeless fox beastfolk was dragged away to await execution.
If she were to fail to catch the mimic…. She wondered if she would be beaten unconscious before a drumhead trial too.
~~~
Later that night, Lyanna lay in a simple, cramped tent.
It was too low even to sit up in, and too short to lie fully stretched out. Anything larger would have added too much weight and bulk to her backpack, for an item that she preferred not to need in the first place.
When camping with only her party, Lyanna preferred to sleep in the open air if at all possible. She also kept her armor on, uncomfortable though it was to rest in. If a monster attacked it was preferable to not be trapped in a cloth sack, blind and defenseless.
Better yet was simply returning to Faron at dusk – most adventurers frequenting the Bloodsucking Forest preferred not to spend the night in a place where even the grass could kill.
It was hard to let go of that anxiety and fall into helpless unconsciousness, even in the middle of a well-defended camp.
Her bedroll wasn’t helping either. It was more comfortable than plate and a pile of leaves, but that was a discomfort she’d grown accustomed to.
The roll’s thinly stuffed fabric layers barely disguised the bumps and corners of the stony ground under them – while adding itchy prickles from the loose-woven surface.
It was still a better sleeping arrangement than many on the expedition had.
With all supplies selling out the very day the expedition was announced, many of the poorer members of the group had nothing they could use for shelter – they slept on a bedroll in the open air. If it was windy they were cold. If it rained they were soaked.
The beastfolk boy had been one of them, but his last night would be different. Worse.
His execution was in the morning; he would be spending the long hours before his death chained between a pair of carts, a guard watching over him.
The tent interior was uncomfortably humid in the warm night.
Lyanna threw off the top layer of her bedroll and reached over to unbutton the flap of the tent a little.
Distantly, across the quiet camp and through the still night air, Lyanna thought she could hear sobbing.
She told herself that she was imagining it.
Even if she wasn’t, what was she to do?
She didn’t believe the accusations the Lastborn had made, but the beastfolk had confessed.
More accurately, the Lastborn had beaten him until he told them what they wanted to hear, but the distinction would mean little to most. Justice was what the nobility said it was.
Her own objections had simply made her a target too. She couldn’t afford that. Marcus couldn’t afford that. Their mother couldn’t afford that.
It occurred to Lyanna to wonder if the young man being executed tomorrow had a mother too. He must have at some point. Was she waiting anxiously for him back in the capital? Or was she far off, living in blissful ignorance, left to think her adventurer son was still alive and safe somewhere? Or had she perhaps already left the world herself?
If she still lived, Lyanna wondered what she might think of her son’s trial, or his ultimate fate.
Out of everyone involved, not one person had thought to hear what the young man had to say for himself. Lyanna had never even heard his name.
But all the same, when the baron had decided, the boy’s fate was sealed. Going against that fate was madness, even for a gold-rank adventurer.
Lyanna mouthed a silent curse at the sobbing intensified. It was no mere hallucination.
Even if she wanted to help she couldn’t. She had her own problems to worry about. If they didn’t catch up to the mimic soon she might well be the one chained to a cart awaiting execution.
If that happened, then Dolm and Marcus would likely be right alongside her. Dolm might get off with a lighter punishment, but Marcus… her brother was too rash and foolish to plead ignorance and let her take the blame alone.
She could see him now, shedding tears just like the beastfolk boy, crying not just for himself, but for their mother, doomed to share their fate.
Perhaps the young beastfolk’s mother was counting on him too; on the meager coin that a working stone-rank adventurer could bring in.
Perhaps his death would condemn her as well.
Lyanna sat up, head hitting the top of the tent as she tried to adjust the padding under her.
A stubborn stone was needling her back no matter how she moved the material around.
She’d tried to just put up with it, to overlook it and force herself to sleep, but she couldn’t just ignore it any longer.
Wriggling out of her bedroll, Lyanna started to don her armor. That yielded time to think – simple and utilitarian as it was, her armor took tens of minutes to strap on and tighten. The process was easier with a second pair of hands, but none were available.
Cheap but functional, her suit had been adjusted for her after she bought it secondhand on her arrival in Faron. It might clink when she stepped on stone, but the plates were well maintained and moved over each other near silently on softer ground.
Once dressed, she grabbed her staff and longsword.