by Clayton Wood
The process took quite some time…which gave Hunter plenty of time to second-guess his choice. He’d rushed into the decision, after all. And for what? Was he really going to grow a pair of wings? How would he sleep? How would he swim? What if he hated them…could he just cut them off? But he’d have two sets of shoulder blades, and two sets of pec muscles.
His heart started to race. He suddenly felt claustrophobic, wrapped like a goddamn mummy in this small-ass room.
What the hell are you doing?
“All right,” Pukwa stated, breaking Hunter’s train of thought. “Sit up…time for your medicine.”
Hunter sat up stiffly, and the bird-lady handed him a clay jar filled with liquid.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Alcohol,” she replied with a smile.
“Ah,” Hunter mumbled.
“Drink up,” she prompted, putting a hand on his upper thigh. She was still smiling…and it was suddenly very clear that there was intention behind that smile, and her touch. He found his gaze dropping to her bare breasts, and he blinked, trying to focus on her eyes. But he was already growing again, giving her wrapping skills a run for their money.
“Cheers,” he stated…then took down the drink in a few rapid gulps.
“Oh my,” she murmured, putting a hand to her mouth.
“Well, he’s definitely not going to feel any pain,” Pukwa declared with a smirk. “At least not until tomorrow.”
The bird-woman pushed Hunter gently back down, and then asked him to roll onto his belly. He did so, laying face-down on the cot. He could hear her doing something off to the side, but he couldn’t see her. It wasn’t long before his head began to swim rather pleasantly.
“This is nice,” he murmured.
“Don’t move,” he heard the woman order.
“I’ll do anything you say,” he replied with a smile, slurring his words a little. “Damn, but that was some strong shit,” he added.
And then he felt a sharp pinch in the back of his left shoulder.
“Ow!” he blurted out, stiffening. He felt a hand on the back of his head, massaging his scalp gently.
“Shhh,” the woman murmured. “Let it happen.”
“First time I’ve been penetrated,” he slurred, chuckling at his own joke. “Can’t say I…ow!”
There was another pinching sensation, then another, all in his left shoulder. But the alcohol had its effect, and he found the pain markedly less as the minutes passed. Or rather, he just didn’t give a damn about the pain anymore.
Again and again came the pinching, going from his left shoulder all the way to between his shoulder blades, then to the right. Then came a much stronger pain at his shoulder blades. He grimaced at this, but said nothing. Eventually they had him turn onto his back. The room spun for a bit afterward, eventually settling down. He saw the lady-bird standing over him, and this time he abandoned all decorum, staring at her marvelous top.
“You,” he slurred, giving her a big smile, “…are beeeyoootiful.”
“Aww,” she replied, smiling down at him angelically. “Thank you.”
“I mean it,” he insisted. “I’m not just saying it ‘cause I’m drunk.” He grinned sheepishly. “No, yes I am. I just thought it when I wasn’t drunk. But now I’m saying it.”
“You’re beautiful too,” she replied, patting him on the chest.
“You got a boyfriend?” he inquired.
“No.”
“Good,” Hunter replied.
She grabbed a long needle then, dipping it into a clay pot. Then she placed the needle over Hunter’s bare chest.
“Hold still,” she ordered…and plunged the needle into his pec.
“Ooo,” he breathed, processing this new pain. He watched her pull the needle out, then dip it in the pot again. Then he decided it would be best to close his eyes. He felt more pinching as she methodically punctured his entire chest, wincing the most as she went over his breastbone. Then, at long last, she was done. She finished by wrapping his chest and back, after which she had him sit up. Slowly.
“You did well,” the bird-lady stated.
“Thanks,” Hunter replied. He got off the table – with Pukwa’s help – and turned to face her. “Hey, I never got your name.”
“You will,” she replied with a little smile, “…if you come back.”
Hunter gave her a lopsided grin, and Pukwa walked him out of the room, guiding him across the long hallway toward the stairs to the lower levels. The combination of the alcohol and the stiff wrappings made the going slow, but eventually they exited the shrine, emerging onto the roof. Pukwa flew Hunter all the way across the kingdom to the entrance, a nausea-inducing flight. It was all Hunter could do to stop himself from decorating the landscape with the contents of his stomach.
Pukwa dropped Hunter off at the entrance to the kingdom, and he found Xerxes waiting for him there. He stumbled up to his brother, giving him a big, sloppy smile.
“Hey bruh,” he greeted, slapping the big guy on the shoulder. “Howzit…going?”
Xerxes stared down at him.
“WHAT…THIS?” he asked, gesturing at Hunter’s wrappings.
“I’m drunk,” Hunter replied.
“WHAT THIS?” Xerxes repeated, jabbing his wrappings with one big finger.
“Got a…massage,” Hunter answered. “Acoo…puncture,” he added helpfully. Xerxes grunted.
“WE…GO.”
And with that, the big lug picked Hunter up, carrying him in his arms and walking toward one of the round huts nearby. The wigwams. Xerxes entered one of them, lowering Hunter onto a pile of soft animal furs on the floor.
“Hope you got your own room,” Hunter mumbled, “…‘cause you ain’t spooning me, I’m telling you that right now.”
And with that, he fell fast asleep.
Chapter 8
The next morning was not good.
Hunter woke to Xerxes stomping into his hut, the sound heralding the arrival of a pounding headache. He groaned, rolling away from the big guy…and was immediately hauled to his feet. It took a moment for Hunter to remember where he was…and more distressingly, why he was wrapped up like a goddamn mummy.
“Shit,” he muttered, staring down at himself. His entire chest and upper back were sore, not to mention his shoulders.
“GO…NOW,” Xerxes ordered…and turned about, stomping out of the hut. Hunter rubbed his eyes, then realized that his brother wasn’t going to wait up for him. He ran after the guy, his wrappings making the going a bit difficult.
“Hey, wait,” he protested. “My stuff!”
Xerxes lifted one arm into the air, holding up Hunter’s pack. His sword and bow were strapped to it.
“My clothes in there?” Hunter asked.
“YES.”
Hunter sighed, falling into step next to his brother. He couldn’t tell which was worse, the soreness from the literal needling he’d taken, or the headache from the “pain medicine” Pukwa had given him. Or the embarrassment from whatever dumb shit he’d told that nice bird-woman when he was drunk.
Or the fact that he’d gone and done something really, really stupid.
Fuck.
He stared at his feet as they made their way across the Kingdom of the Deep, toward the opposite end of the entrance they’d come through the day before. Apparently there was an exit leading to the Deep.
Couldn’t’ve just gotten a damn tattoo, he muttered to himself. Noooo. You had to get yourself a fucking pair of wings!
He contemplated tearing his wrappings off, but the fear of having more parts of him turn into a bird stopped him. There was nothing he could do now…other than hope that the fact that he’d only been in this world for a few months would prevent the procedure from actually working. Some of his body still hadn’t incorporated the substance of this world, after all. That meant that parts of him shouldn’t be able to absorb traits.
Hunter sighed, walking in silence beside his brother, who thankfully kept the p
ace relatively slow. They circled around the huge lake in the center of the kingdom, eventually reaching the black stone wall that encircled the kingdom. There were indeed stairs leading up to an arched entrance there, and they soon passed through the archway and out of the Kingdom of the Deep.
“Well that was interesting,” Hunter grumbled. The land beyond was a dense forest, and Xerxes took them due west. “What’d you do all day yesterday?”
“EAT.”
“Anything else?” Hunter inquired.
“SLEEP.”
“Sounds like you had a swell time,” Hunter muttered. Xerxes glanced at him.
“What happened to you?” he signed, pointing a finger at Hunter. “What’s this?” he added, gesturing at the wrappings still…well, wrapped around Hunter. Hunter grimaced.
“Ever done something stupid when you were drunk?” he asked. Xerxes shook his head, and Hunter frowned. “Ever been drunk?” Another shake of the head.
“LIVED IN…CAVE.”
“Ah, right.”
Xerxes gestured at Hunter’s wrappings again. It was clear the big guy wasn’t going to let it go.
“I got suckered into letting a nice bird-lady give me a spa treatment,” Hunter explained. Xerxes did the Ironclad equivalent of raising an eyebrow…not that he had any. “She was cute. Really cute.”
Xerxes considered this.
“HAVE…SEX?”
“Unfortunately no,” Hunter replied. Xerxes chuckled, slapping Hunter on the back…and sending him stumbling forward. He caught himself, gritting his teeth at the fresh wave of pain the slap had added to his already sore back. “She offered to if we came back,” he added defensively. “I think.”
“Then we go back,” Xerxes signed with a big smile. Hunter couldn’t help but smile himself.
“Aww, thanks bro.”
“SEX…GOOD,” Xerxes opined. Hunter grimaced, remembering his ordeal with Trixie…and with Lady Camilla.
“Sometimes,” he muttered. Xerxes nodded in agreement.
They continued onward through the forest, neither man or beast speaking for a long moment. Then Hunter turned back to Xerxes.
“How long until we get to the Deep?” he inquired.
“Two, three days,” Xerxes signed.
Hunter nodded, trying to recall what Pukwa had told him. The bird-man had said it’d be fine to take off the wrappings within a day or so, if he remembered correctly. He’d keep them on for longer, of course. Mostly out of paranoia, but also to hide any…changes from his brother for as long as possible. If there were any changes. A part of him doubted that anything would happen.
Onward they went, trekking through the seemingly never-ending forest for a few hours. Eventually they came to a stream, and stopped to drink…and to rest Hunter’s legs. Xerxes, on account of his incredible ability to heal, seemed to never tire. Like, never. Hunter supposed it made sense; any damage to Xerxes’ muscles would be nearly instantly repaired, after all.
Hydrated and quasi-rested, they continued through the forest. Hunter’s hangover gradually abated, and even the soreness in his back didn’t seem so back anymore.
“Is it easier to talk after you’ve been with me for a few days?” Hunter inquired. Xerxes nodded. “That’s good.” He paused. “Hey,” he added. “You got a girlfriend or something?”
“MANY.”
“Oh ho!” Hunter exclaimed, slapping Xerxes on the lower back and grinning mischievously. “Xerxes the player!” Xerxes just stared at him uncomprehendingly. “It means you get a lot of ass,” Hunter clarified. Xerxes nodded at this.
“MUCH…ASS,” he agreed.
“Lucky bastard,” Hunter said. Then he raised an eyebrow. “Got any kids?”
“YES.”
“Oh yeah? How many?” Hunter inquired. Xerxes shrugged, and Hunter chuckled, shaking his head. “Wow. That’s…wow.” He smiled up at his brother. “You know, you’re all right.”
“YOU…TOO.”
He felt a burst of happiness, and realized the emotion was as much Xerxes’ as it was his. He smiled, feeling at peace for the first time in a while. To think that he’d had a brother all this time…a big, monstrous lug with a heart of gold waiting for him…
It was really, really nice.
They fell into a comfortable silence, each enjoying each other’s company without having to speak. Hunter went into a kind of trance, counting his footsteps to a thousand, then starting over again. By the time they stopped again, the sun was directly overhead. Xerxes set Hunter’s pack down, and Hunter eagerly took out some rations to eat. He hadn’t had anything since last night, after all. He sat down, happy to rest his legs and chow down. When he was done, he squirmed in his wrappings. His chest and back were getting awfully itchy, almost certainly from him sweating underneath the layers of bark. He had half a mind to tear the wrappings off, but ignored the urge.
They continued onward until sundown, stopping in a small clearing to eat dinner. Hunter gathered wood for a small fire, and the two brothers sat before it, enjoying the heat of the flames. Or at least Hunter enjoyed it. With his brother’s thick armor, he wasn’t sure if Xerxes even noticed the change in temperature.
“Hey,” he said. “Can you feel anything through your armor?”
“YES.”
“So your armor has nerves in it?” Hunter pressed. Xerxes shrugged. “Can you feel me touching you?” he asked, brushing his fingertips lightly on Xerxes’ armored forearm.
“Yes,” Xerxes signed.
“Huh,” Hunter replied. He realized then that he hadn’t absorbed much in the way of memories from the guy. They both could absorb memories, which meant that neither of them transmitted memories very well. “What do you think about the war coming up?” he asked.
“I…FIGHT,” Xerxes answered. “I…WIN.”
“Fair enough,” Hunter replied. “But it’s easy to be confident when you’re frickin’ invincible.”
“TRUE.”
“Speaking of which, I could use a bit of that goo of yours,” Hunter stated, glancing at the glowing blue mane running from Xerxes’ head down to form his tail. “Mom was almost killed when she went to the Deep.” Which was true; she’d only survived being transformed into an Ironclad because she’d fused with the strange organisms that had given her the power to regenerate first. “If I happen to get a bug on me, I’m screwed.”
“YOU GO…NAKED,” Xerxes replied.
“Don’t look,” Hunter warned with a devilish grin. “I don’t want you to feel inadequate down there you know.” Xerxes gave him a look, then glanced down at his own groin, putting one pair of palms together, then spreading them outward. A lot. “Bullshit,” Hunter retorted.
Xerxes grinned, reaching down to his armored groin, and Hunter jerked his gaze away.
“Whoa, whoa!” he exclaimed. “No need to prove it. I believe you.” Xerxes chuckled, and Hunter shook his head. “Guess you take after Dad too,” he grumbled. Figures that’s what they would’ve inherited from the big prick.
The both stared at the fire for a while, until Hunter yawned. He stretched his arms over his head, then took his sleeping bag out of his pack, spreading it out on the ground. Then he laid down, watching as Xerxes did the same. Without the sleeping bag, of course. Being covered in the equivalent of platemail had a few side-benefits.
“You sleepy?” Hunter asked, knowing that Xerxes was, like the beetles he’d partially become, naturally nocturnal.
“Not yet,” Xerxes signed.
“Teach me some more sign language then,” Hunter urged. He’d gotten by mostly because Xerxes spelled everything out. Xerxes nodded, walking his brother patiently through sign after sign until Hunter’s eyelids were too heavy for him to keep open. Then, turning away from the soft glow of the dying campfire, Hunter went to sleep.
* * *
The next morning, they resumed their trek through the woods…after Hunter shot down a few birds and harvested some vegetables and nuts from the surrounding area. He couldn’t help but feel m
ildly guilty about killing the birds – it seemed rather traitorous – but according to Pukwa he’d chosen a bird of prey for his wings. That, and the fact that he was starving, was justification enough.
After a couple of hours, he found himself walking behind Xerxes instead of beside the big guy, a fact that didn’t seem to bother his brother. Hunter found himself obsessing over his wrappings, which were even less comfortable today than they’d been yesterday. His back and chest were itching like mad, and the wrappings around them felt far too tight. Removing them was awfully tempting, and he would’ve done it if he weren’t terrified about what he might find underneath.
Hunter tried to distract himself from the thought, studying the scenery around him. The forest here was different from the one they’d traveled through to get to the Kingdom of the Deep, the trees far taller. The ground was littered with decomposing pine needles, their pungent scent reminding him of Christmas. This effectively prevented anything else from growing, which made it much harder to determine which trees might have strong wills, since they all looked roughly the same. Xerxes hardly seemed concerned, and Hunter faked his brother’s attitude. Besides, if there was a strong-willed tree – even a Legend – they’d only pass by it briefly. Setting up camp near one, however, would be a tragic mistake.
Eventually they did set up camp, just as the sun started to set. It was in a small clearing, and Xerxes used his four hands to dig up a great deal of the earth around the campsite, piling it along the edges. This effectively removed any strong-willed organisms from the clearing. Then they went to sleep.
* * *
“You getting deja-vu?” Hunter asked Xerxes as they walked.
They’d been hiking through the woods for a good few hours that morning, and the forest had ended abruptly, opening up into wide open fields, the ground rocky with sparse tufts of grass. Occasional trees dotted the landscape, their trunks gnarled and their branches twisted, unlike the stately tall trees behind them. The ground angled upward ahead, a dense fog obscuring their view.
Xerxes grunted, signing “yes.”
“Me too,” Hunter replied. He could swear he’d been here before, and in a way he had…through his mother’s memories of her trip to the Deep. This was the same foggy landscape from her memories; he looked back the way they’d come, seeing a familiar scene: rocky landscape leading down to the forest miles away…and far, far in the distance, the five spires of the Kingdom of the Deep. “We’re getting close,” he warned.
