Femi's brows narrowed.
"So, you're saying that the entity who kidnapped my soul did so for a game played by so-called gods?" he asked filled with a deep-seated anger. The memory of that disembodied, taunting voice echoed in the vault of his skull. A sound he hated to admit, had woven itself into the fabric of his nightmares, right next to the screaming goats and twerking fishes.
"Yes, that's correct." Melin answered, while taking little sips from her cup before continuing. "And as I said he doesn't play by the rules. He's more interested in his own twisted amusement than actually winning."
"Why would you say that?" Femi pressed, his fists clenching on his lap.
"Because you are not, currently, chained, castrated, and fighting on some blood-soaked front line against the Alliance legions of Keepers and city-destroying Sages," Melin stated bluntly, as if this was the most obvious fact in the world.
"You say wetin?" Femi blurted out, the shock causing the pidgin to slip out, and his eyes went wide, nearly popping from their sockets in shock as he instinctively cupped his hands protectively over his jewels.
"What?" she asked, tilting her head, looking genuinely confused by his sudden shift in language.
"Ah… I," he said, catching himself and reining in his surprise. He forced his hands back to his lap. "I meant, what did you mean by that?" he explained. His normal tone returning, though his heart was still dancing against his ribs.
"Oh," was all Melin said, while tapping her nearly empty cup. Not too surprising it began to fill up once more.
"Well, I simply meant that since you are still whole, unbound, and able to act on your free will, it means the one who took you isn't interested in you much as a useable pawn. You seem more like you have been… released into the wild." She paused, her gaze seemingly intent on his reaction, while she took another slow sip from her cup. "They might have just wanted to muddy the water and see what happens."
"So, I'm basically a…. wild card now?"
Melin's cup left her fingers, and began to orbit her form in a lazy circle. "Yes, exactly. You can make your own choices, chart your own path, without any direct influence from any of the opposing forces." She paused and looked thoughtful for a moment, the orbiting cup freezing in mid-air. "Well, without them immediately sending their vast forces to swat you like an insect for stepping out of line."
Femi's eyes locked onto Melin's, not minding the slight burning sensation that flared behind his own pupils from doing so. A hundred questions swarmed his mind, but one rose to the surface above all others.
"What are you?"
Melin's smile grew wider, it held a mysterious delight that was both alluring and terrifying, and she leaned in closer. Her radiance washing over him.
"That's a secret," she said while giggling like a school girl, which unsettled him more.
"But I'll make you a deal. If you agree, I'll give you a hint, and I will even add a gift to top it off. Something valuable you were supposed to earn only after completing the first level of the Wicked Dungeon."
Femi's eyes narrowed at her words. This sounded far too convenient. "You want me to sign a contract, don't you?" tales of deals made by fools with mysterious beings rarely ended well.
Melin laughed with amusement at his suspicion. "No, no, nothing like that," she assured him, waving a dismissive hand through the air leaving a faint trail of light. "It's a simple thing. Just agree verbally, and I'll give you the gift."
Femi thought about it and he didn't really have many options at this point. He was lost in a void, talking to an advance glow stick about gods and creation. He leaned forward elbows on his knees, as he weighed his options.
He was sure he shouldn't trust Melin, but the possibility of gaining a crucial advantage in this dangerous world was too enticing to dismiss outright. "Okay, I'll listen," he said finally, while crossing his arms over his chest. "What's the deal?"
Melin seemed pleased with his acquiescence, her form seeming to glow brighter.
"I want you to continue to grow stronger, to hone whatever skills you possess and then head east," she said, as if it were the most obvious course of action.
Femi's titled his head confused as he, tried to decipher the meaning behind the direction. What possibly could lie in that direction that she would send him there? A trap maybe?
"East?" he repeated, drawing the word out.
"Head East, that's all." She said, offering no further explanation.
Femi's eyes narrowed further, his patience wearing thin at her vague instruction "So, you want me to head East," he asked voice flat, "a journey of who knows how many miles, through lands I know nothing about, facing dangers I can't even imagine, and do what? Just… arrive?"
Melin's not knowing of his growing impatience smiled, a gesture that only aggravated him further. "I'll leave that to you, and your own ingenuity," she said, her voice dripping with intrigue but offering no substance, as if this were all some grand, amusing game whose rules only she understood.
But Femi was tired of playing games.
Femi's face contorted in frustration. He threw his hands up in exasperation. "So, you want me to leave the North, the only region I barely know, and find my way to the East?" he repeated, his voice rising in incredulity. "'Head east, that's all'? That's your grand plan for me? Your whole deal?"
Melin nodded, her maddening smile still plastered on her illuminated face, now looking more like a polished mask.
"Yes, that's all. Agree and the gift is yours."
Femi's eyes widened; his patience gone. This had to be a trap. Something is wrong some were. "Madam, I hope you're not trying to set me up," he said standing up abruptly, his heel accidentally striking the leg of the glowing chair. It flickered once, twice, and then dissolved into a shower of fading motes of light. Femi took two steps back, creating space between them.
"This conversation has gone on too long without any real answers, other than super stories. Now You want me to pack my things, especially now that I barely have any, and head to a place I don't know about, filled with things I don't know about, on your say-so?" The sheer absurdity of it made his head spin. "You might as well ask me to build a castle in a cloud!"
His furry face twisted in anger, the helplessness of his situation boiling over into a sudden, flare of paranoia and pent-up fear. "Okay, I can see your intentions now. You want me to die. You want me to walk blindly into my own doom. Don't worry, your plan will fail." He glared at her, his accusation clear to both of them.
"They sent you to me, didn't they? My enemies has stroke again, they want to kill me. Even in this place, it won't work." His voice rose to a shout, the sound swallowed and then echoed back oddly by the vast, hungry darkness.
Melin frowned "Femi cla.."
"I WON'T DO IT!"
As he stepped further away, His claws out and sharp as ever. His fur standing on end, puffing him up unconsciously. His eyes had turned feral for a split second, the brown swallowed by a ring of black.
Melin's smile finally faltered for a moment, as genuine concern crossed her features.
"Calm down, Femi," Melin began as her voice soften into a more soothing, maternal tone. It sounded as if she was trying to placate a spooked animal
"There's some danger involved, of course there is, but that's precisely why I'm giving you a gift, it will aid when you do face those inevitable dangers." She paused, letting her words sink in before delivering the true incentive. "And, in addition, I will return you to your body. Right now. Whole and intact."
Femi froze, his anger momentarily stunned into silence by her last statement. His pupils dilated, then contracted, returning to their normal brown as he locked onto Melin's gaze. His body was still tense, and suspicious of her intension, but his desire to escape this…. Limbo, temporarily outweighed that suspicion.
He felt a deep, instinctive certainty: if he didn't get out now, something terrible would happen.
He pushed his fears down, focusing on the immediate offer. His voice was lower and measured now, forced into calm after his outburst. "Let me hear the process of getting me out. And then what that gift is. First. Before I give you, my answer."
Melin, seeing him calm down, paused. Her strange, captivating eyes flashed for a moment with an unreadable emotion before her familiar smile returned, now looking more like a gambler about to reveal a winning hand.
"Very well."
--------
Varga headed over to where a thick pillar of grey smoke was rising from behind a rough looking Krag who was already there, hunched over and stroking the fire with a stick.
She pushed the bulky Krag slightly away with a firm hand to reveal the cooking pit and the flickering flame beneath it, but to her annoyance the meat hanging from the spit, a haunch of some spotted dear, didn't look quite done. Its surface was still raw in places and the fat had not yet begun to crisp and render. It had to be done before the rest of the raid band returned, hungry and expecting a meal.
With a disappointed grunt, she straightened up, wiping her hands on her leather trousers. "Another quarter hour, at least. Don't let it char," she instructed the cook, who nodded dumbly.
She then made her way back to the main camp, eyes scanning the perimeter with wariness.
The camp felt hollow.
In the wake of the harpy assault, there were even fewer active Krags within the wooden walls. A heavy emptiness hung in the air where once there had been a bustling community of warriors feasting and bragging of their courage and spoils.
Varga couldn't help but think of the losses that had ravaged their strength, affecting hunting parties and patrols drastically. It made her wonder what she would tell Arieus when he returned. How she would explain the diminished numbers under her watch. Not even including the missing body.
Varga let out a sigh. She couldn't think of that now, there was too much work to be done.
With that grim thought occupying her mind, Varga moved quickly to get everything ready. She, ensured the bandage supply was adequate and near the infirmary, and oversaw the distribution of what little rations remained to those who could still move and the wounded who could not. She even began to repair the wooden wall and other dwellings that was damaged, it couldn't be finished before the raiding party arrival but she had to start from somewhere.
Later that day, as the twin suns reached their zenith, casting their bright rays through the trees, the raid party returned.
The first of the victorious, but clearly battered, krags came trudging down the snowy road that led into the camp. They immediately began seeking out patches of ground to collapse onto, when they crossed the camp entrance, where they began to rest their weary bodies and continued to brag in tired voices about their many kills. Most looked utterly exhausted, their armor dented, slashed, and stained dark with blood.
Many sported hastily applied bandages still seeping crimson, and the smell that preceded them was a complex mixture of sour sweat, the iron-tang of blood, and the rotten scent of pus on the infected wounds, causing Varga's sensitive nose to wrinkle.
She scowled, her lips pulling back from her tusks as she took the scene in. The ragged state of the raid band made it clear that victory had cost them even more abled warriors.
The last few men came down the road slowly, pulling a pair of wagons covered in stained, heavy tarps that hid their precious cargo. "Quite a few of them are missing."Tarlak, who had joined Varga just a moment ago observed quietly, his own face grim. As he stared on with a hint of concern for his missing band-mate.
"It means the battle was a tough one" Varga replied simply, while assessing the returning band remaining strength.
Arieus who was at the very back of the returning Krags, cutting an imposing figure as always. Especially with his massive cleaver slung across his back, acting as a reminder to troublemakers.
The first thing the white-fur-clad leader did when he came into clear sight was head directly to Varga's position. His stride was purposeful, cutting through the clusters of his resting warriors. Goruk and Dana followed closely behind him, their own expressions unreadable.
Tarlak who was still standing at Varga side, gaze was locked on Arieus, and despite having seen the War Chief many times, was still always shocked at how he always carried a presence that seemed to fill the space around him. Unlike the other War Chiefs, Tarlak had seen, Arieus had a certain air to him that was difficult to describe.
Sometimes it was almost as he was just…...more than what the eye could see.
For a second, Tarlak was worried he was going to cut him and Varga down where they stood, because of the intense look in Arieus's eyes. But then he realized the War Chief was merely scanning them, with a calm smile on his face.
"The raid was a success, Varga! The weapons are ours," he declared triumphantly as he marched the final steps toward them, not bothering to lower his voice. He gestured back towards the covered wagons.
"Good. We may need it soon. I see you lost more than a few warriors," Varga observed, her gaze sweeping over the diminished, injured group.
Arieus nodded, a shadow passing over his features as he gazed at the remaining raiding band and the cost of their victory.
"We lost half of our fighters. They fought bravely, and died with honor. So, we had to perform the Ritual of the Fallen, before we could break camp and return. Those who remain bear injuries and will be unable to fight anytime soon," he said staring out at the sky, solemn for a moment.
Yet still, like a passing cloud, his gaze sharped and returned to Varga.
"But, with the two recent and profitable raids, we will now have both the coins and the weapons to arm our reinforcements. So, filling the holes in our ranks won't be a problem for long," he stated, the strategist in him already moving on.
Varga frowned. The cost for the weapons still seemed too high, especially now that their camp had little fighting power left.
"Now, Varga," Arieus continued, his tone shifting seamlessly as his eyes took in the signs of recent battle. "Before you start complaining about the deaths, tell me what happened to my camp."
Varga took her time to think her response over for second.
"We were attacked by Harpies. A full flock, and they had a Queen with them, it was a formidable foe, faster and smarter than the rest. We lost almost half of our remaining warriors in the defense. We drove them off, but it was close." She took a breath, steeling herself for the stranger part.
"Also, a Krag's body went missing after the battle. Taken from right where it fell. I led a search myself with Tarlak and another scout. We found nothing. No tracks, no drag marks, not even a broken twig. Whatever took it is probably still out there." She finished him, laying out the events that transpired
"What?" Goruk exclaimed, his hand flying to the haft of his axe. He immediately cast a fierce, searching look around the camp perimeter, his body tense as if expecting some unseen horror to melt from the tree line and attack them then and there. Dana, too, looked taken aback, a rare flash of surprise on her usually impassive face. Her eyes narrowed, and she instinctively gazed upward, scanning the empty sky and between the trees that may hide threats.
Arieus, however, did not react outwardly. He simply looked to be deep in thought, seemly processing the information.
"What do you think it is?" he asked Varga calmly, as if knowing she had an idea and wanting to test her reasoning for it.
Varga hesitated, reluctant to give voice to her fears.
"I don't want to guess," she replied with a frown, crossing her arms over her chest. "But since you asked… It's unlikely, but it could be a mutant of some sort, drawn by the blood. Or the Harpies, although again it's highly unlikely…"
"Why, not a Harpy if you couldn't find a trace, they could have taken it into the air?" Dana asked coldly.
"Because," Varga countered calmly, "even if they could fly lifting a full-grown Krag's body, which would normally be a struggle for a group of three harpies working together. Doing so without leaving any trace, not even a single feather is unlikely."
"What about a mutant, then?" Goruk asked, turning his suspicious glare from the woods to Varga. "You don't think one could be that stealthy?"
The female Krag shook her head, her gaze never leaving Arieus's. "No. Mutants are powerful, some are cunning, yes. But they are still beasts. One strong and cunning enough to take the body without a trace would have killed more, especially seeing the weakened state we were in after the attack. It would have kept killing, until it was forced to flee."
Varga sighed heavily, as she decided to voice out what she truly suspected. Her worst-case scenario.
"Unfortunately, the most likely cause, by far, is that it's…"
"…Undead," Arieus finished for her, his voice flat and certain.
Goruk growled with a deep hatred that vibrated in his chest. Tarlak frowned deeply, his hand clenching around the pommel of his blade and Dana cursed under her breath. But Varga just nodded grimly.
"That would explain the Harpies' attack," Arieus reasoned out loud, connecting the dots. " Those bringers of ill omen are known to collaborate with the foul undead." He turned his piercing gaze back to Varga. "I take it you didn't share these… concerns… with the rest of the camp."
Varga shook her head. "Panic would serve no one."
"Good." Arieus's eyes swept over his three lieutenants. "If it's undead, then they'll strike again tonight, under the cover of darkness."
Varga nodded thoughtfully, already thinking of defenses. "Then we have a lot to do before nightfall. And not much time."
"Exactly." The War Chief's then began to lay out a plan, his words quick and well detailed. They all spoke for a while before he released them to their tasks, he made them all swear to secrecy, to ensure their silence.
After the tense meeting broke, Varga left with Tarlak, as they made their way towards the infirmary. A deep, troubled frown was carved into Varga's face, her thoughts rolling over the plan Arieus had concocted.
Tarlak was quiet by her side, a similar frown of contemplation on his features. The silence between them became too much to bear. He had to voice the question that was plaguing them both.
"Do you agree with the plan... Varga?" he asked quietly.
"No," she replied simply. Then she stopped mid-stride and sighed.
"But he is the War Chief. We follow his orders." She turned her fierce emerald eyes towards Tarlak "But that does not mean I will stand by and allow the worst to happen if I can prevent it. And I think you agree with me on that."
Tarlak met her gaze and just nodded, his own determination clear.
"Good," a ghost of a smile touching her lips. "Let's get to work."