What was left of Gustav halted mid-stride, black blood and puss leaking from wounds and cracked burns across his deformed body. Very little of his armor was left, what remained looked melted into his body. His eyes focused, dimmed, and then refocused again, as if seeing the Outriders for the first time. An odd stillness claimed the air around them both. Johan could feel a strange combination of frigid air and extreme heat radiate from Gustav's purple-black flesh. Was the heat coming from Gustav himself, Johan wondered, or if it was after effects from what Alek had done to him? Portions of Gustav's body looked as though they were crisped, like meat burned black.
“Wonderful,” Gustav slurred, “more replacement parts.” He smiled, and a large glob of black phlegm drooled out of his mouth, taking three of his teeth with it.
“You look like you need a lot more than what we have to offer,” Johan said, gripping his sword into a guard. To either side the other Outriders fanned out, preparing their own weapons.
“That is probably more correct than I'd like to admit,” Gustav said, more congealed fluid dribbling through his mouth. “Is it so much to simply want to own your own city? And a good body from which to rule it?” Gustav drew himself up, ignoring his injuries. He stood almost a foot taller than Vegard, and with his one remaining arm holding a scavenged sword and his tendrils, he presented a multitude of means of attack. Johan did his best not to gulp audibly.
“I'll tell you what,” Gustav gurgled. “Give me that one,” pointing past them with his sword at Alek. “That one and him,” a tendril pointed to Ryker. “He has quite the sweet song inside his mind. I think I want to crack him open and find the Voice within. Give them to me, and not only will I let you go, I'll call off my reinforcements.” A third tendril raised itself, and the the sounds of combat behind them died down significantly. “You and anyone else you'd like can walk out of my city.”
“No.” Johan's voice was pure iron. He rose to his feet and pointed his sword at Gustav. “Take him.”
The effect on the Outriders was immediate. At their Commander’s words, whatever terror that was in their eyes, whatever fear was in their bones vanished, replaced with a fierce determination. Even their postures changed. In one smooth motion, Johan, Ryker, Vegard, and Garm rushed forward, a blur shooting past them as Toma loosed an arrow, its scarlet arrowhead burrowing up to the fletching within Gustav's throat. Gustav's body shuddered as whatever was in Toma's arrowhead took effect.
Crying out in challenge, Garm brought his energized blade down at Gustav's midsection in one mighty swing. Gustav's blade slashed sideways just in time to block Garm's own, the coral energy mixing and intertwining with the liquid darkness that splashed off Gustav's as their two swords locked together. A tendril reached out with a hand to bat away Ryker's sword as he thrust his Outrider blade at Gustav's shoulder. Vegard swung upwards, trying to sever Gustav's remaining arm, but the massive figure disengaged with Garm, awkwardly stepping backwards just as Johan also attacked. Vegard's blade shore off a chunk of black flesh as Gustav backpedaled, and Johan scored a slash along his leg.
A second arrow from Toma sunk into a bulbous mass of flesh where the collarbone should have been, forcing Gustav to hesitate for a fraction of a second as another crimson arrowhead began to wreak havoc within his body. Gustav's muscles started to seize up randomly, giving the Outriders an opening. Johan led the charge, as Gustav tried to ward them off with crude swings of his sword and barbed tendrils. The Outriders' swings and strikes were deliberate and practiced, all in an attempt to force a single opponent to leave himself open in at least one place. Black puss and shreds of bruised, burnt flesh went flying as the Outrider blades tore into the monster. Gustav's body shuddered for an instant, as if summoning some last vestige of strength, and he lashed out.
As Vegard leaped up, swinging his blade in an attempt to decapitate the monster, a barbed tendril tore across his right shoulder, sending him reeling to the ground as he dropped his blade. Another tendril caught Ryker in the nose and shattering it, the barb just missing his flesh. Blood spurted as he staggered backwards, momentarily blinded by the onrush of pain and tears. Garm slashed viciously, trying to get underneath Gustav's intensified guard, but to no avail. He then suddenly dashed to one side and launched himself forwards. As his momentum carried him forward, he stabbed upwards towards Gustav's head, but as Gustav blocked the strike with his own sword, Garm deflected the blade down with his own sword's cross-guard and pulled both blades downwards. Not missing a beat, Johan came flying in to Garm’s side, his Legion sword slashing downward, scoring a deep gouge in Gustav's chest and lopping off his two chest tendrils. The momentum behind Johan's blade kept it moving, carving its way down Gustav's body from neck to navel. Thick globs of of liquid blackness spewed out from Gustav's severed tendrils, corroding Johan's blade into a pitted ruin of metal.
Gustav howled in rage and anguish. Garm tried to bring his sword back up, but one of Gustav's massive legs slammed down on the blade, ripping it out of his grasp. A dark green pulse of power sent all of the Outriders hurling away from Gustav. All but Garm, whose magical gauntlets absorbed the brunt of the assault. Yet he still still driven to his knees from the impact of the spell, and Gustav loomed over him.
Johan quickly staggered to his feet, his mind, body, and soul, screaming at him to lay down. But he ignored it, looking at the pitted, jagged remains of his blade. It was all he had left. Gustav raised his massive tendrils to envelop Garm when Johan leaped upwards, his blade avoiding Gustav's own and driving into Gustav's forehead. There was a sickly cracking sound as the monster's head split open, and a series of painful piercing sensations entering into Johan's back and neck, followed by a cool numbing feeling. There was a brief feeling of falling, and Johan felt puzzled at it. He had no idea what had just happened to him.
Nor did he really want to, he realized. As he hit the ground, the warm embrace of unconsciousness took him, and Johan felt himself smiling. After the day he had, it just felt good to finally lay down.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Somehow, despite the best efforts of men, monsters, and seemingly the gods themselves, Kinnese and his little group arrived at the small village of Nilbin. They were a few days behind schedule, and were missing a few people Kinnese had hoped to bring, but they made it. As they walked through the village (their horses had been lost in Bellkeep and never replaced), Kinnese's body all but demanded he throw himself on the nearest bed.
Nilbin itself was rather unremarkable, farms on the outskirts, mostly huts for the population, a few cabins here or there. A modestly-sized mansion dominated the center of town, very similar in size and shape to the Underking's mansion outside of Coula. Surprisingly, Kinnese's master greeted them at the gate leading into the mansion's grounds, still in the body of the barmaid from the Crossroads' Hearth. Gone was the simple barmaid outfit, however. Now she was dressed in a proper noblewoman's finery, wearing similar black and silver colors to that of Kinnese's clothing. Well, similar to what his clothing looked like before the week or so of hell had taken its toll on it.
“I was beginning to fear you weren't going to make it,” his master said, her voice concerned. “I wasn't able to make contact with you.”
“Yeah,” Kinnese said, his voice weary. “Yeah things got pretty, uh, bumpy.” Kinnese gestured to his companions. “This is Naria, her apprentice witches, Pela of the Order of the Crimson Fang, and Undis the...ah, alchemist.”
Naria crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed. “And just who the hells are you?”
“Naria!” Kinnese blurted out. “This is-”
Kinnese's master laughed, cutting Kinnese off. “You can call me Helena,” she said. “At least, that's what you can call her,” she gestured at her own chest. “And that is good enough for now, I think. After we work together a little bit, I may decide to trust you enough to tell you more. Just know that my identity really doesn't matter. The work we will do to make things better is what counts.” Helena looked at the bedraggled group behind Kinnese.
“No representatives of the Underking? And where is that Bellkeep mechgineer you promised me?”
“Like he said, things got a little bumpy,” Naria said, suspicion still in her voice.
“Tell me about it as we walk,” Helena said. “Let’s at least get you all situated.”
As his master, Helena, whoever it was, led them into the mansion, Kinnese told her everything that had happened. He had just gotten to when Titus and Gustav had arrived when they stopped by a doorway within the mansion. Helena opened the door and turned to Naria.
“Madam Naria, this room is for you and your apprentices. Within you should find enough space for whatever library you have brought with you, as well as small cloisters for yourself and your apprentices to sleep in, with curtains for privacy. Madam Pela, your room is-”
“I'll be sleeping in the workshop,” Pela said flatly.
“Ah, of course,” Helena said. “As I was saying, the far wall has a door leading down into your own personal workshop. The first subfloor has an extensive alchemy suite, along with with a basic enchanter's studio. The second subfloor is a storage room with a few regents and supplies you may need. Tomorrow I'll have an attendant come by with a list and you can tell us what you may need.”
Naria peered into the room, then looked back at Helena as if she were a trap about to clang shut. “What will I need to be working on?”
“Ah, of course,” Helena said, clasping her hands together. “Kinnese couldn't have told you. Originally my plan was to simply act as your patron for a while, sort of a court wizard situation, until you were needed. However, I already have a possible task lined up for you. There are the flimsiest of reports that a plague is taking hold to the south, in the city-state of Burqet. I am sending a few agents to investigate it. If true, I'd like for you and your people, with Kinnese of course, to do your best to resolve the situation with the greatest of haste.”
“And if there is no plague?” Naria asked, her voice flat.
“Then you may continue with whatever work you'd like here, in Nilbin.” Helena stopped speaking for a moment and turned, locking eyes with Naria. “You distrust me and my motives. I understand that. You took our offer out of some sort of personal necessity. I understand that as well. Just know that we are here to do good. But we aren't in the business of having good intentions. No, we are here to be effective. If that means skirting the line at times, or even going over it, then that's what we will do to make this world better. I hope that, in time, you'll see I'm telling you the truth.” Helena nodded, the conversation over, and turned and began walking down the hall, Undis following.
Kinnese and Naria shared a quick look. “I'll drop by in the morning to see how you are settling in,” he said. Nodding in farewell to Pela and giving the apprentices a wave, Kinnese turned, but was halted by Naria's hand on his shoulder.
“Watch yourself,” she said, her weary voice urgent. “Your master is...highly dangerous.” Next to her, Pela nodded her head in agreement. The former assassin's face matched Naria's voice.
Kinnese gave them both a small, tired smile as he took Naria's hand off of his shoulder. “Aren't we all?”
Catching up with Helena and Undis further down the hall, Kinnese heard the lich chuckle as they stopped in front of his new chambers.
“A well-rehearsed speech,” Undis was saying, a bit of reproach in his voice. “However I must admit, half-truths and obfuscation are a poor way to begin a partnership.”
Helena whirled on Undis, and for a brief second, Kinnese thought he saw his master's presence within the woman's body. Vast and formidable, like a mighty storm trapped within the small shell of a bar maid. Undis must have seen it also, for the lich actually backed up a few paces, his immortality forgotten. Helena's shadow, faint and quaking in the torchlight grew deeper and darker until it almost swallowed Undis, his back now against the wall.
“I'd watch my tone of voice if I were you, Mr. Undis,” Helena said, her voice friendly and light. “You haven't yet earned the right to speak so casually to me. It would be a pity if we were to terminate our relationship before I am able to reward you for your hard work.”
“And just what will my work be?” Undis asked, his voice noticeably more respectful than before.
“Something that I believe you'll enjoy,” Helena said, her shadow slowly receding. “You're to leave here, tonight. For Burqet.”
“Ah, so there is a plague there,” the lich said.
Helena was noncommittal. “There are some materials I will need you bring to Burquet to prepare ahead of time before I send the others to meet you. This will be a specific challenge, both for you and our healer to tackle. And to head off your curiosity, you will be in position to gain a unique understanding to a plague that is foreign to this Plane, and I'm sure you will have much to learn from its transmission and effects.”
Kinnese's eyes widened, and Undis's odd voice shook in genuine laughter. “Perhaps I will enjoy being in your employment, after all. However, you already have a masterful healer in your employ. Why do you need me? Not that I am complaining, mind you.”
“This plague is far more...diabolical that your usual fare. And it is one that I desperately need cured. However, the risk is so great for anyone involved that I would prefer it if it was done far, far from the rest of us. Your...unique physiology makes you ideally suited to set up any proper catalysts and precursors or what have you. I’ve no knowledge of how plagues work, mind you. Triage the situation, create as safe a workspace as possible, and then aid Naria, honestly, to the best of your abilities.”
“Ah, I see,” Undis chuckled. “It will be her grand thesis, eh?” What little mirth was on Undis's face vanished immediately, replaced with a deadly serious look. “I will do this, and I will keep my word. And then you'll give me the new bloodstone he promised me.”
Helena smiled. “Mr. Undis, if things go the way I hope they will, I may have something much grander to offer you than something as mundane as a body. We will talk later.” The smile vanished, replaced by a deadly serious stare. “Do not wander the halls without my permission. Come, Kinnese.”
Not sparing a look for the lich, Kinnese matched his master's footsteps. “Tell me we are doing this for the right reasons,” Kinnese demanded, ignoring the power he knew his master had. “We're not pike people over later?”
“Oh Kinnese,” Helena chuckled, “I so do love it when you try and be my moral compass. Don't worry about it. This plague is coming to your world, my friend. If it takes hold, it will be far worse than anything we've seen before. I need a testbed, of sorts, from which to try and assault it. Burqet is populated, but also isolated. Fear of cross contagion will be limited. If Naria and Undis’ reputations are accurate, they may indeed be our best chance of stopping it. And if they can do that, then I can proceed in the next step for one of my other...endeavors.”
“And if they can't?” Kinnese hissed.
“If they can't?” Helena shrugged. “We'll have to cleanse Burqet with fire, find another healer, and start over. Simple really. At least Undis will survive.” Kinnese opened his mouth when Helena put her hands briefly on either side of his head, and a sudden comfortable warmth spread through his mind. He was briefly disoriented, and his legs almost gave out on him. Helena caught him and propped him back up. “Pay it no mind,” she said softly. “In fact, forget that that conversation ever happened.”
“Alright,” Kinnese said, his voice all but slurring. What the hells had just happened? He ran a hand through his hair. How many blows to the head had he taken over the past week? He desperately needed some rest.
“Now then,” Helena said. “You'll be seeing me, er, her,” she gestured at her body, “around here now. I've discussed it with Helena and she's agreed to act as my Steward here in Nilbin, as well as one of my more...consistent vessels for as long as we are here. So treat her with almost as much respect and deference as you do me.”
“Sure, not a problem,” Kinnese said, feeling himself coming back to his senses
a bit. But something still felt off in his mind. Almost as if something that had been knocked slightly loose was rattling in place, like a broken spoke in a rapidly spinning wheel. His mind flashed quickly back to the blow Garm landed on his face at the Underking's mansion, and he flinched.
His master noticed and she halted, turning to face him head on. She peered into his eyes, actual concern on her face. “Jurgund, you need to be a little more careful with yourself. You're among the more durable, resilient men I've encountered, I'll give you that. But you’re also highly fragile in other ways. If you break apart up there,” she tapped his temples, “I don't think I'll be able to put you back together again, do you follow? I've had to fix you up enough as it is already.”
“What?” Kinnese was confused. “'Fix' me? Again?”
Helena nodded. “When I got you out of the Judicator's Tower,” she said, her voice soft. “You couldn't have done it on your own. And I couldn't have used any of our outside resources without leaving a trail. So I had to...assume direct control, as it were. Only for a very brief time, of course. But it's still very dangerous for you. When I just go for a ride, so to speak, it only has slight after effects. But the more I control, the more influence I exert, the more damage my presence causes. Mortal minds don't recover from that too quickly, if they recover at all. And I'm afraid that in your case there may have been some side effects.”
And there it was, Kinnese realized. The memory losses. The short spells of confusion. The momentary feelings of having a head full of sand. A pang of fear shot through him, like a ray of moonlight piercing his exhaustion.
“Am I...permanently broken? Will it get worse?” the words blurted out of him before he could stop it.
“No,” Helena said, her voice soothing. “No, you'll get better. Any further episodes you experience will lessen in time. But it will be slow. Which is one of the benefits of having a dedicated healer on staff. She can help you if anything gets really...fractured. But you still need to be careful. You're the best lieutenant I've ever had, and I don't know if I could adequately replace you.”
Chasing Down Glory: The Outrider Legion: Book Two Page 49
