Outlaw for Hire: Chapter 5

Wroteger listened to Enroth roar at the outlaw and elf behind him. It reminded him of his old master-at-arms, always yelling and disciplining the troops but deep down he respected every one of them. The Beastkin sighed cracking his knuckles he looked over at Declan, his face was warped by concern most likely for Triss. Wroteger thought he was a little soft sometimes but a promising fighter nonetheless. Many adventurers were all talk, it relieved the ageing Beastkin that he didn’t have to carry these kids by the scruff of their neck as he had done many other times.

A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye grabbed his attention, he pivoted to face it. Declan cried out in horror but the Beastkin didn’t notice his terror, he was to enraptured by the cause of his fear. An abomination. The smell hit him like a wave before he could register what he saw. It was a sickly sweet smell like rancid meat or rotting flesh, the smell of death. The Beastkin have superior senses of smell to most races and for the first time ever Wroteger regretted that fact. His eye’s watered and his senses spiralled madly, he couldn’t focus and he gotten the sudden impulse to go into a battle frenzy. He could feel himself instinctively draw his sword, the weight of it was comforting. He stood ready to fight and heard the other three retch in unison behind him, either from the smell or the sight of the abomination he didn’t know or care.

The creature watched them ravenously, it was almost painful to look at, and the question of how such a thing could exist crossed every persons mind. Its torso was a twisted mess of flesh and bone. From the dark shifting mass of the torso, three lanky limbs Tripoded out with what seemed to be human hands on the end of each one. A long neck jutted out from the top of the torso, its head was featureless except for a gaping maw with rows upon rows of jagged teeth. It watched the group twitching with rage.

Wroteger shivered trying to shake of this feeling of dread, he saw the others beginning to encircle the creature, “Keep focused it will try and cloud your senses!” he cried out.

“What the hell is that thing!?” he heard Enroth yell back, his voice hoarse from earlier.

“A Benrir, an unholy freak of nature!” Triss spat.

“An undead thing… a bad guy, a monster doesn’t matter just kill it!” Cynric shouted

“Watch out for the stuff that covers it! That filth doesn’t wash off.” Wroteger said. He referred to the tar like substance that covered every inch of the creature.

“I got a shot lined up” Declan called out, he aimed for the creatures head.

“Don’t fire Dec!” Triss barked, “You’ll just piss it off.”

Wroteger blinked away the confusion and started to move with the others, his heavy sabre out in front of him. The others did the same Cynric axe and dagger in hand, ready to pounce. Triss a bolt of light in her hand the air around it distorted as she lined up a shot.

“We attack as one!” the Beastkin snarled “ready?”

Grunts of acknowledgement was all he needed, Wroteger lunged forward. His sword struck the Benrir hard it went through a layer of the tar like slime and scraped against bone. The creature wailed, the sound struck Wroteger with fear and he froze up. Barely jumping out of the way of the Benrir trying to rip his face off with its serrated teeth. The outlaw’s axe smashed the top of its head but didn’t go deep. The two men jumped back as Triss pummelled it with bolts of light.

“That slime is some armour, I can’t get through!” Cynric wheezed, Wroteger noticed unusual stiffness in the outlaw’s movements. He was scared too.

“What about its mouth?” Declan rushed over and was ready to shoot, “make it roar again and I can get it right in the throat.”

“You sure Declan?” Wroteger questioned, Cynric just nodded believing in his friend’s ability.

“Let’s make this quick. Before our elf gets chewed on.” The outlaw pointed at the Benrir which was approaching Triss slowly, the tar substance hissing every time a bolt of light struck it.

Wroteger and Cynric rushed forward, the Beastkin going for a blow to the side of its head. It ducked out of the way but years of fighting had honed his skills well and Wroteger landed the blow hard on its neck. Cynric rushed the front running straight at the creature’s mouth with a mad grin on his face. Just as he was about to get mauled by the Benrir he slid underneath it, Declan’s arrow going through its mouth and piercing its throat.

The Benrir let out a bloodcurdling shriek which caused a wave of distress and nausea to wash over everyone. It spat black blood and some other unspeakable substance, it glared at Declan who froze in its gaze. It began to lumber over at surprising speeds. Cynric plunged his axe into the creature’s underbelly and was being dragged along with it, repeatedly stabbing it with his dagger cursing everyone and everything under the sun. Triss’s frantic cries snapped Declan out of his stupor, he didn’t hear what she said. Watching the Benrir approach he drew the bow and aimed again, it was a few metres away and closing in.

“Jump aside now!” Enroth yelled. He didn’t listen instead he steadied his aim and ignoring Triss’s cries of protest let the arrow loose, it went through the roof of the creatures mouth and killed it.

Declan sighed and fell backwards in shock, as the realisation of how close he was to death washed over him. Triss caught his fall and hugged him, tears welled up in her eyes.

“What the hell Declan, don’t scare me like that.” Still to shocked to say anything he just revelled in all the attention.

“Damn good shot kid.” Wroteger grinned, “If I were still in the empresses service, praise be her name, I would conscript you in a heartbeat.”

“Thanks for the compliment, I guess.” he responded.

“Nice one Declan, I’ll be sure to count on you from now on knowing you’re such a fine marksman.” Enroth added, He nodded his thanks to the Duke.

“Wait where’s Cynric?” Declan asked.

“Who cares about that fool, as long as you’re fine I don’t care about anything else.” Triss said still sobbing into Declan’s shoulder, his face was flushed but he didn’t try and hide it.

“Quit you lovey-dovey bullshit, and help me!!” Cynric screamed from under the Benrir. The outlaw crawled out from under the creature with Enroth’s aid, free from the creature he immediately ran to a nearby tree and began spewing buckets.

“What happened?” Wroteger gestured to him.

“He got covered in the Benrir’s slime… or something, I don’t know what that substance is.” Enroth said gagging from the smell.

Cynric then rolled around in the grass doing his best to remove the slime with little success. Enroth and the Beastkin went over to a flipped cart, pottery lay shattered all around the wagon and a mauled corpse, most likely the wagon’s owner, lay face down however they wondered if it could be called that if the corpse was missing a face and limbs… and the majority of everything else.

“Mincemeat, huh” Wroteger commented, getting no response from the duke he looked over to a stone pillar laying on its side a few metres away. Ruins. Alerting his comrade the Beastkin and Enroth went to inspect the place. There was a few pillars and walls, sun bleached white and collapsed. On the floor of whatever this place used to be there was a stairwell down into the depths. Curiosity overpowered caution and Enroth stared down into the abyss.

“Step into the abyss to know your future.” Came a voice from behind.

“Cynric, I can smell you from a mile away.” Enroth snapped at the voice.

“You’re no fun boss.” He snickered, “anyways, it’s not like it’s my fault I can’t get this shit off me.”

“What do you think about this mercenary?”

“The ruins? I don’t know employer, could be a dungeon or trap of some sort.”

He sighed and stepped away from the stairwell, giving Cynric a wide berth “Yeah I figured… wait how are you not bothered by the smell?”

“I am.”

“Oi, check this out.” the Beastkin waved them over.

“What is it Wroteger?” Enroth looked down at what the Beastkin was pointing at. A small hole in the ground, it went deep and it was too perfect to be dug. Magic.

“It might be a chimney.” He glanced over his shoulder, “What the hell is that fool doing?”

Enroth spotted Cynric messing around with the wagon “Ignore him. My concerns are focused on if people are squatting down there.”

“Really? Squatting that’s what your worried about?” Wroteger chided the duke. “How about you worry more about a den of cultists or something, rather than squatters. You leaders never change.”

“Get off my back Beastkin, I’m still a duke with land, assets and a city, I can’t just drop my ways.” He hesitated, his eyes downcast. “Well a razed city anyway.”

“Are we gonna go down there?” Declan called out from behind, making them jump.

“Not a fan of enclosed spaces, but it’s up to you Duke.” Triss stood by Declan and watched Enroth carefully

“I think it’s best to leave this place, informing the king of the iron crown and the cult’s plot, whatever it may be should be our highest priority.”

Cynric had walked up still scraping the Benrir gunk of his clothes. He was entranced by the stairwell, he looked at it for a full minute before anyone realised he was there.

“You hear that Cynric? We’re moving on.”

“What?” he looked from one comrade to the next, shrugging indifferently he returned his gaze to the stairwell. “Yeah okay… I think we should go down there.”

“What do you smell booze or something.” Triss snickered.

“First of all: I can’t smell anything other than Benrir juice. Second: if I could I would already be down there, so watch your tongue tree hugger!” Cynric switched to a serious tone. “I got a hunch that there’s something important down there. Also look around, that Benrir was guarding something. The wagon was dragged here and so was the mauled corpse. I really think there’s something down there… other than dust.” He added.

“Why should we trust you, you could be lying to our faces. Hell, you could be working for them for all we know.” Triss growled.

“Fuck you, stop doubting me.” He shot a pleading glance to the others, “You guys back me up, we lose nothing but time going in there so, c’mon… please.” Enroth scratched head and looked at the stairwell, the other two averted their gaze. No one said anything.

Triss lowered her voice to a deep threatening tone laced with power. “The fact that you of all people are pleading. Makes it even more suspicious.” She turned on her heel not hiding the smug expression on her face.

“Please Myulnea!” Cynric called out in an unnatural almost musical accent.

Triss stopped dead in her tracks. Gone was her confident tone and smug face. “W…what?” she stammered. He stood facing her the same stony expression on his face. “How…?”

“It doesn’t matter Triss but please trust me on this one, this hunch or urge thing I have, it never lies.”

She looked from him to the stairwell, she sighed shakily “Fuck. I can’t believe this...”

Declan felt someone tap him on the shoulder, it was Wroteger. “Declan, do you have any idea what the fool just said?”

He nodded quietly and ushered the Beastkin out of earshot of the others. “He spoke in ancient Elvish.”

“And what does that mean?”

“For a non elf, especially a human, to say an elf’s name in ancient Elvish is the highest form of taboo. Cynric will now be wanted for high treason by all Eves.”

“Shit, and he willing did that?”

“Yeah I guess so.”

“But why did Triss agree to him after he said it?”

Declan sighed and looked the Beastkin in the eye. “I’m not sure, it may have something to do with Ancient history between humans and the elves, some say it’s a spell I don’t know.”

“Well this is a right mess isn’t it, damn elves and their fancy culture. Nothing like this in the realm of Beastkin.”

The two returned to see Triss and the now twice outlawed man watching each other cautiously. Declan strode up to Enroth and started to explain the situation.

“I know enough Declan, thanks.” He said dismissively obviously annoyed with the party’s indecisiveness in decision making.

Declan noticing confusion on his face explained further anyway. “If Cynric is right… about something been down there, then Triss knows she can trust him. Even trust him with her life and the charges of treason are lifted. I’m not sure how it works something to do with elf tradition.”

“That would make life easier if they didn’t fight all the time.” Enroth grunted.

“And if he is wrong, and there is nothing down there?” Wroteger asked.

“Triss will probably kill him, like I said I don’t know.” He said straight faced

The three shot a scornful glance at Cynric, not sure whether they should trust this man.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Triss announced as she started for the stairwell into the ruins depths. “But you’re going first” she pointed to Cynric, “If anyone should blunder into a trap it should be you Highlander.”

~~

Gregory the caretaker peeked around the corner to see if his Lord required anything. Her crimson hair floated behind her and the runes and markings that lined her body could no longer be seen, the air around her slender form shimmered entailing the use of magic. Small flecks of darkness pulsated in amongst the distorted space. Gregory was not one to understand magic and every time he saw her at work he got chills, how runes and markings tattooed into her pale flesh just dissipate into the air the old man did not know nor did he care too.

He knocked on the wall notifying his presence before he stepped inside. She stopped what she was doing and the air around her returned to normal and the markings returned to her skin. She smiled warmly at the caretaker.

“Yes is there something you need Gregory?” she said her voice like honey, but it held a hint of power beyond mortal understanding.

The old man chuckled, “I believe it is me who should be asking that milady.”

“Well forgive me then for interceding on your duty, young master.” She said in a light tone, bowing slightly.

The old man let out a loud belly laugh which bounced off the walls of the empty castle. “Surely you jest milady, for I am neither young nor your master. Your sense of humour has certainly taken a turn. Is it because of him?”

She grinned sheepishly “That is most likely.”

“Yeah, thought so.” He sighed softly, “How goes the work, does all fair well?”

“Yes just gave our outlaw a little push in the right direction.”

Gregory scratched at the bald patch on his head. “I wonder what he would think of your… nudging milady.”

“Not even I can predict that Gregory.” She replied, “He is a man who lives of his whims.”

“Indeed.” He started back to the door stepping over piles of books and other clutter. “Well I shall let you return to your work milady, please summon me if you are in need of anything.” And with that he disappeared into the shadows of the hall.

The crimson haired woman turned back to her window. She felt the mana run through her body and form around her as a distorted mass, the markings peeled off her skin and mixed with the distorted mass. As she returned to her work she wondered what the future had in store for her grey haired outlaw.

/ / / /

Authors note: This may be the last chapter for a while, my personal life is about to get a lot busier and I’m also starting a new novel, sorry in advance for the inconvenience.

Also for any who don’t understand the magic ‘distortion’ just think invisible TV static in the air.