Vyker 33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7rTYAtyDid
The boss stared at the surroundings, his eyes wide with horror and his mouth agape at what he saw. To say the rest of us handled it better would a bold-faced lie and we all knew it. The rolling hills and plains were covered in gravestones and willows that looked like they were growing bones. A tower rose off in the distance, a grim moon with a crater shaped like a looming skull hovering just over it like an executioner’s axe. We knew where we were…but our brains couldn’t accept it.
I mean…I didn’t feel dead….
“What the hell?” I managed while the boss was babbling. It was words and sentences but there seemed to be no real rhyme or reason to the order or combination. He’d gotten like this one time after a personal investigation on an ancient religion, but we fixed that by getting rid of the books, idols and manuscripts along with some good ol’ percussive maintenance and a few crates of ale. Something made me feel like we weren’t going to get much of that save for a slap or two before the boss got pissed. I took my chance, getting in front of him and giving him a firm slap across the face.
“What the hell was that...?” he demanded before seeming to realize why I’d done it. “Ah…thank you. I’m certain you’ll explain everything later….”
“No problem, boss,” I smiled. We needed his brains intact while we try and deal with this. I’d gazed into the abyss plenty of times back home and preferred to just sit back and let him do the thinking. Ragnar seemed to be of the same mind as me when it came to stuff like this. Makes my head hurt and I imagine it does the same for him. Lissi seemed to take it a lot better which was just as good to have a second brainiac.
A snapping branch caused me to draw my blunderbuss, pointing it at the tops of the trees where I was certain I’d heard it. It wasn’t really great at this range since I’d packed it full of shot, but whatever it was didn’t know that. “Get outta there and show your ugly mug so I can shoot it over the damn Boneyard!” What did come out of the tree line was something I don’t think any of us would have expected.
The skeleton angel rose from the treetops, a giant scythe in its bony fingers as its large wingspan blasted the leaves down. Instead of a skull it had a dog head…no, wait…a jackal…that’s what the boss would call it. It flew towards us with the certainty of death itself, but I wasn’t sure it was comin’ to kill us. It landed soft as leaves a few feet in front of us, towering even over Ragnar, its bright green eyes glaring down at us as it didn’t say anything.
“Um,” the boss began, stepping forward. “Can we…help you?” Whatever it was remained motionless and still and I looked back to see the growing frustration behind his eyes. For all his fancy talk, he hated being ignored.
“Oh, isn’t this a meeting of obvious fortuitousness!” A huge crow with a bone mask glided down to land the angel’s shoulder, its eyes showing a weird intelligence as its beak moved to let it talk. “Here you are, and here we are. My name is Umble, and my silent companion here is named Thoot.” The boss opened his mouth to offer his own greeting, but the crow kept talking. I fought back a laugh as his jaw clenched from being interrupted. “We mean you no harm, despite the strange harmaments you seem to have already suffered. Yes, yes, this is the land of the dead, and no, you aren’t dead yourselves. You are something of a special case – you seem a touch too vitalitinous for this place.”
Umble peered closely, cocking her head to one side. “Ah, there is a wonderment! Your hearts have something lodged inside them. Something that brought you here, but kept you from doing so in the orthodoxiumous fashion. I cannot help but ruminate: what has caused your strange condition?”
I think we were all still a little too stunned to answer the bird, still getting over the realization that we were in the Boneyard but now that we had been told we weren’t dead and that something was causing this was a bit much. Though the boss’s silence felt more like he was getting annoyed by the loud-mouthed bird who was using words that, as far as I knew, didn’t exist. He’d slammed down a few people who thought using big words made them sound smarter, but this bird was talking nonsense.
“Wait, what did you say about our hearts?” Fijit was the one to recover first, guess it was for whatever that stuff with gnomes having to experience new stuff or else they die helping with that. Umble cocked her head down at the gnome.
“Well, it’s right there for the seeing,” she said, gesturing with a wing in an honest imitation of pointing. “If you can see into your own hearts. A longitudinousness of your makeup. It’s ah…a bit of a tweak you see.” It became increasingly obvious that either this bird had no idea what she was doing or that whatever was keeping us alive in this place has never happened before. All this mystic shit was making my head hurt since I usually let the boss deal with this.
“Sorry,” the boss began, seeing the bird was going to speak again. “But…what exactly are you?”
Umble cawed before puffing out her chest proudly. “We are psychopomps, whose function is to guide the souls of the dead to their final rewards; we come in multiplicitous varieties, as you can plainly see.” She kept going as if assuming the next question. “I will not hurt you, perish the thought, and dear Thoot is possessed of a reluctance for physical engagement. Quite the heartbreaker, though, as you can plainly see.” I looked over at Thoot who moved his head in an approximation of an eye roll as Umble kept going.
He softly rapped Umble’s head before pointing to the entrance to a nearby valley. After Umble let out an indignant caw and turned to look, she ruffled her feathers in excitement. “Ah, Thoot, now that is a brilliant idea! You are from Roslar’s Coffer, and they are from Roslar’s Coffer. Perhaps you can help us? If so, we can provide you with some very helpful information about wending you in a homewardly direction.”
All of us instinctively turned together into a huddle, the boss allowing his straight expression to fall into an annoyed sort of sneer.
“What do you think?” Lissi asked.
“That the bird is an idiot,” the boss grumbled. “And, not that I am entirely distrustful, but I understand that most beings whose job it is to maintain order in an area are more likely to take routes to fulfill their duties. They may not hurt us, but that doesn’t mean they’re above leading us to our dooms….” The others nodded since he did have a point. We’d almost been sent into traps by servants who said they weren’t going to hurt us more times than we’d almost been stabbed by some.
“We don’t really have much of a choice,” Noravia countered. “I don’t fancy wandering around the land of the dead until I actually belong here. Psychopomps are the best way we have of getting out safely….” There was more nodding as the boss conceded to her point. It really did seem like there wasn’t a way about without the pair behind us. Noravia pushed to the front of our group. “What help do you require of us?” Umble flittered happily again.
“Some awful tragedy befell Roslar’s Coffer. Everyone there died quite suddenly overnight. Well,” she made an oddly correct shrug, “everyone but you, apparently, but in any case the sum of populatory has deposited here, dead or otherwise.” She pointed back towards the valley entrance Thoot had pointed her to. “Their souls are milling about in that valley over there. As happens on such calamitous occasions, the inhabitants aren’t quite ready to admit that they’ve died. Despite their obvious amorality.
“Now, Thoot and I, we are not psychopomps in the greatest esteem. One might say we’re on our last chances around here. But because these souls arrived in our territory, it’s our duty to make them accept their mortality and move them along in a soulwardly way. But they took one look at us, called us mosnters, and accosted us with homicidal intent. They wouldn’t allow any discussionment. Now, eventually, more powerful psychopomps will be along to settle this all out, but Thoor and I will be in a terrible amount of trouble in light of this failing. Here is out propositionality: if you convince these souls they’ve expired – as, until the recent event of their passing that you somehow avoided, you were among their kind – we can tell you about the Dead Roads: the roads from the Boneyard to mortal worlds, that is. Have we a deal?”
After a round of promises to do what we could, followed by a few minced words from the boss in his native Varisian, we began the walk down to the valley. The shadows of Thoot and Umble were just visible in the sky but I got the feeling there was no way we were gonna get any help out of them. Then again, they claimed they’d already tried and it didn’t end too well. Lastfolk were something else entirely when it came to monsters and outsiders. If the boss weren’t there to vouch for me as we travelled, I imagine I’d be rotting in some dungeon if not dead on the side of the street.
We were about halfway down before Fijit offered a question I don’t think any of us had thought about when we agreed.
“How do you convince someone who doesn’t know that they’re dead that they’re dead?” The boss and I had dealt with a few rogue spirits here and there, most needing priestly help to get rid of but others just needed confirmation and proof of whatever it was that kept them there. Somehow, I doubted we’d be able to do that here.
The small valley stretched out beyond the rocky pass. Winding strands of gray trees and tumbledown walls mirrored the layout of Roslar’s Coffer, with simple trails instead of roads. Softly glowing figures – some of them with slightly familiar faces – wandered about, apparently practicing daily routines. Despite mine and the boss’s feelings about the people of Lastwall, I couldn’t help but feel a tug at my heartstrings. What must it be like to be dead and have absolutely no clue?
“I think I’ve heard of this before,” Fijit whispered as we trudged further to the edge of town. “Might be best if we just find a way to convince everyone at once rather than just one or another. They’re in a…delicate state, let’s say….”
“Fine by me,” I grumbled, making sure my gaiter was in place just in case these people were still hostile to people like me. There was no real way to guess what the hell these people saw but I’d wager money on them thinking nothing was wrong. People just milled about like this was just another day and I could hear the sounds of children playing in the distance. Wasn’t too fond of the little squirts but it was a tragedy that young lives had been taken before they really got the chance to live.
“Could you not convince them with fancy words?” Ragnar asked, the question directed at the boss.
“Possibly, but I would not like to take the chance,” he admitted, twirling his can in his fingers which meant he was nervous or thinking. “The Lastfolk aren’t too approving of Sczarni like me…even if they are more palatable.” Ragnar’s grunt of acknowledgement sounded like he understood that feeling somewhat. Couldn’t get a read on the big guy but as long as he supplied help, I could learn to stand him.
Noravia kept moving through the town, the crowd parting around her since they were more familiar with her being part of the town guard and it was clear she was looking for someone specific. I just kept my eyes on the trees and even the spirits just to make sure that we could find whoever it was before anything came out to make it so we could properly be here. Andrel said something to Noravia that I didn’t quite catch but it seemed like he was making sure as to who were looking for.
When that person came into view, she gestured towards us to call us over. It was a while before I recognized her as the mayor who the boss had spoken to when he requested to let us set up a little as we passed through. I hadn’t caught her name but that wasn’t really my job to know.
“Lady Grive,” Noravia said. “I can see by your expression that you know all of you have died?”
“I do,” Grive said, timidly. “And I’ve no idea what I should do. I’ve tried to broach the subject to the others, but they are as stubborn as they were in life and some even began to flicker like a flame in a strong wind. I thought it best to wait, but that monster arriving didn’t help much.” The boss and Fijit exchanged knowing glances but didn’t say anything. Seemed like they both just confirmed something they’d guessed already.
“Is there anything we can do to try to help?” Noravia asked.
“There might just be,” Grive offered, sounding almost hopeful. “Perhaps the people won’t listen to me, but they might listen to the children and the members of the town council. If the children can understand, their parents and others might be willing to listen, and the council boasts a local celebrity among their ranks. I say it’s worth a shot to see if that would work before anything else comes into this valley….”
“It’s worth a shot,” Noravia agreed. Grives blubbered a hearty thanks before letting us leave and telling us where the council members had wandered off to. We’d heard the sound of the kids when we came down so there was really no need to ask where they were. I really didn’t like the idea of heading over to the little tykes, given that my gaiter was to help people not be afraid of me normally so I didn’t really fancy the idea of terrifying most of the kids and making friends with a weird one who thought they were neat.
We retreated to a secluded area where no one could really hear us before we started planning. “I’ll go see if I can work with the kids,” the boss offered.
“And why should we trust you with that?” Noravia demanded. I had a feeling that she hadn’t taken too kindly to, technically, be convinced by him to rob a relic from a tomb beyond most people’s opinions of Sczarni in general. My obvious dark heritage probably didn’t help her think highly of the pair of us. However, the boss kept his cool and held up a finger which told me that he was about to get pedantic and a little condescending.
“One, I’m one of the more practiced when it comes to speaking. Two, despite the people of Lastwall having a high opinion of paladins, children still don’t always respect a position of authority which you would represent. And three, this requires a more delicate touch that I feel I have more aptly. Send someone with me if it makes you feel better, but I still think I’m best suited to speak to the children.” Ragnar watched the brief exchange looking bored and uninterested in the petty squabble while Noravia’s jaw visibly clenched. The boss would probably be impressed I’d actually thought about using the word squabble for this situation.
“I’ll go with him,” Lissi offered, almost with a cute little sigh. “Kids love magic and that could help at least get their interest to sit down and listen for a bit.” It was clear that Noravia didn’t really care much for the idea, and even less and Lissi moved to stand with the boss, his straight face hiding what I knew he was thinking about that.
After a few choice words under her breath, a string of words that would make a sailor’s mother blush, Noravia relented and the boss gave me the go ahead to head off with the others. It was kinda funny as Noravia kept up her mumbling as she stomped off towards a little hedge thicket while the three of us followed after her. I kept my eyes peeled for any sign of weird spirits that had less than friendly intentions and I hadn’t realized I’d crept up to the front. It was obvious Noravia wasn’t paying attention to me, but I found I had two cents to offer her.
“I know you’ve got your ideas of the boss, but don’t be so quick to judge him,” I said, off-handedly. All I received was a noncommittal grunt, and I figured that that was probably better than the tirade she was trying to put into words in her head while still remaining focused. I’d let her have it that Sczarni don’t really have the greatest reputation, being pickpockets and cutthroats, but the boss proves to be one of a lot of exceptions to the rule. He doesn’t deny that the stereotypes are undeniably reasonable, but we’ve met plenty of caravans that would prove anybody wrong.
We entered the little hedge, I’d barely consider the pitiful shrubs a hedge, really, to find the council members. They were all just sort of milling about like the rest of the townsfolk in the village, but there was one who was undeniably who we were looking for. She was dressed in the finery of a merchant, somehow opulent and simple at the same time. The boss would probably have some fancy word for it, but it was just enough for me to use the word ‘opulent’ when he wasn’t around. She was pretty enough, a hard look about her that seemed to favor all the Lastfolk, but I think we were more interested in the ghost over her shoulder.
He looked a hell of a lot like the councilwoman save for a short beard, broken nose and the crusader armor which was more than enough to tell us how old he was. Her ancestor was raving as we walked closer, assuring his great-whatever granddaughter and the other council people that they weren’t dead and that there were greater heroics ahead and to not believe the lies they heard. Wasn’t exactly sure which lies he was talking about but if I were a betting man, and I have been known to gamble a bit, I’d say he was talking about the scandal following Roslar. I’d met a few crusader spirits, most were either still filled with undying rage for enemies that were long dead or shame and sorrow for falling before the crusade had reached its end and returned to their loved ones.
This one seemed to belong to the first kind…in a way.
“Lady Tharmethion!” Noravia called out.
“Ah, how many times must I ask you to call me, Arbella?” the tradeswoman turned to look at us, a faint smile on her face. The more I looked at her, the more I noticed her posture was like the boss, knowing her status but there was a more down to earth air about her like she came from humble beginnings before making her fortune…whatever she had anyway. The spirit followed as she walked over, his face scrunched up into a sneer as his face darted around like he was looking for something or someone. “Regardless, it is good to see someone who can actually help. Are these others friends of yours?”
“Of a sort,” Noravia answered. “Listen, Arbella…I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re d-….”
“Hold thy tongue!” the spirit raged, pointing an accusatory finger at her. Maybe it was just because he’d been further away, but I didn’t realize how rotten the guy looked. Whatever kept him here had seriously taken its toll on his ghostly body. Are you still a ghost if you’re stuck in the land of the dead? That was a question for somebody with more holy philosophies…. “These brave men and women still have work to be done! They must go a spread the word of Ervin Roslar’s heroism…!” He drew a ghost blade from his hip as Noravia put a hand on her own, meeting his eyes.
“Deaf and dumb spirit,” she sneered, her already sour mood only getting worse. “Consumed by your own shame and fear….” She drew her longsword and raised her shield in a dueling posture. “You will not drag these others with you into your own delirium!” The ghost flung itself at her, arm raised as its blade smashed into her shield, but she didn’t buckle. For a moment, I thought about raising my blunderbuss to help, but realized that it not only would be a bad idea, but that this felt a bit more like an actual duel for honor or whatever. None of us felt like interfering directly…but Ragnar did start up a song.
I couldn’t understand the words, but I felt a surge within me that would’ve felt great in a fight. I guess Noravia felt it as well as she hacked and slashed at the spirit, her swings becoming more reaching and her style a little less defensive as the ghost’s blade started raking over her shining armor. That mithril stuff must’ve been harder than we thought as a lot of the spirit’s attacks scraped harmlessly off the gleaming metal without leaving so much as a scratch. Noravia eventually brought her sword down through the ghost, it babbled more nonsense as it turned into thin whisps of green light before floating away like ribbons caught on the breeze.
Although I’d never really had any good run ins with paladins, I couldn’t deny the talent and power behind a holy warrior. Noravia made a bit of a show out of putting away her sword and letting out a long, calming breath.
“Feel better?” I asked. She gave me another noncommittal grunt which was all the answer I needed. I pushed past her up to Arbella and tipped my hat to her. “Ma’am. Without the, uh…interference of your great-whatever grandpa, may I have a moment of your time?” She looked me up and down, her gaze briefly halting on my gaiter, but I didn’t think much of it. Not like I wasn’t weird lookin’ enough with my ashen skin and I didn’t really like to show off the chompers when meeting a lady.
“There’s no need for such formality with me,” she began, but I couldn’t help but interrupt.
“With all due respect, ma’am, I’d sooner just be more polite than I need to. My boss’s better with the fancy talk and everything, but I reckon I can do my best when talkin’ to a lady.” Her smile was both intrigued and interested, but I wasn’t going to focus on that. “Anyway, I’m afraid I’ve got a bit of bad news. Y’know how that spirit was talking about how sure it was you were alive?”
“I presume he was wrong?” she asked, daintily. I got the feeling she’d figured it out but didn’t get the chance to act before the spirit showed up.
“Less wrong and more lying, I reckon. Spirits like that tend to linger due to some regret or the like that keeps them from passin’ on and whatnot. Did he try to convince you of anything else?”
“He claimed that Roslar was a great hero, and that his legacy had been unduly tarnished with lies,” she noted. “But anyone who truly claims blood from Roslar’s Coffer knows about the scandal. The town only kept the name because it’s too much hassle to make that kind of change.” She looked around and I couldn’t help but get the feeling that she was really seeing her surroundings for what they were. The others seemed to be doing the same thing now that the ghost was gone, but they remained stoic and almost curious. “I had a feeling…but with the aggravation of an adamant spirit hounding you to not trust your instincts, one’s judgement can get a little muddled.” She turned to face me again. “You say your boss is better with words, but I can appreciate a person who speaks plainly.”
She moved back to her fellow council members who spoke in hushed tones about the revelation, and we kept our distance. This honestly felt a lot easier than it probably should’ve been, but I wasn’t one to complain when things went smoothly. I’ll take an easy job over one that makes me want to tear my hair out any day.
Whatever deliberation they came to, the council moved to go find the mayor lady with us not far behind. Noravia’s mood did seem to lighten up a little after getting some of her anger out on something that deserved it, so I reckon the boss was up for little more than a tongue lashing when we regrouped. I wondered how they’d done with the kids when we saw them walking towards us. The boss had a slight stiffness about his right leg, making him lean a little heavily as he actually used his cane properly to limp along. He gave me the sign that he was fine and that it was temporary as we made our way to set things straight with the mayor.
A while later, we were stood behind her and the council members as they addressed the townsfolk. The people of Roslar’s Coffer stirred and mumbled uncomfortably, but a look of placid acceptance began to spread. One by one, the townsfolk in the audience began to exude a warm glow. As her own light slowly brightened, Grive turned back to us.
“I don’t know how to thank you enough for this,” she began, almost like she was trying to stay here just a little longer to say these words. “I suppose, at least, there will still be someone on the other side who still remembers us. Just please, promise me that you’ll find out what happened to us when you get back, and that you’ll go to the capital and tell them what killed the people of Roslar’s Coffer.” After a round of promises that we’d, at the very least, try to honor that wish, Grive faded into light and floated away towards Pharasma’s tower. It was kinda pretty watching all the lights from the souls flutter and dance like ribbons in the breeze as they went off to their final judgements.
The sound of wings broke the rather peaceful silence and I immediately turned towards it, blunderbuss raised before I saw it was just Thoot and Umble. A low sigh escaped the boss and I cracked a smile since I knew he was dreading this again. Luckily for him, or maybe all of us, Umble decided that it was best to get to the point since we’d done our part.
“Well then, yes, I suppose we are prepared.” Umble did a bit of preening before continuing. “The ritual is quite simple, but I must ask you not to pay too close attention, as we’re not technically empowered to perform this bit of extrajurisdictional transposition.” I heard the boss’s teeth start grinding as he stopped himself from interrupting. “Like most things involving psychopomps, the Dead Roads rely on a complex bureaucracy. They’re maintained by Barzahk the Passage to allow us to come and go, but creatures of…of non-psychopompological nature need authorization to prevent abuse. Specially appointed bureaucrats control way stations along the routes, and can offer a stamp on your body to pass freely. Without a stamp of passage, beings tend to, oh…’slide off’ the Dead Roads and land back here – hopefully.”
That didn’t really sound reassuring but I suppose we were talking to someone who didn’t know exactly what was going on with this part. “We never did locate more than a few fingers from that one poor waywardarian Keleshite who found his way in.” Thoot made a sort of movement I’d associate with shuddering at the thought of whatever they’d exactly seen.
“So how do we get home?” Lissi inquired.
“The route to Roslar’s Coffer passes three way stations: the Palace of Teeth, a manor called Nine-Eaves, and Salighara’s Scriptorium.” Umble held up her wing and it looked almost like she was extending three feathers like fingers which would’ve been amusing given other circumstances. “You’ll need to stop at all three to make your pilgrimage back to Lastwall. Each way station master will probably charge for passage. Given your pauparian circumstances, I assume they’ll trade for services…I hope.”
Noravia joined the boss in scowling at that last comment, making me wonder if she was just some wayward heiress who’d joined the paladins of Lastwall for whatever reason. The boss, while inheriting a ton of his fortune according to him, had still worked to make sure his wealth didn’t dip too far down. He never said who he got it from, but he paid me not to ask too many questions about his personal life.
“The Palace of Teeth?” Fijit asked, sounding both interested and scared.
“It’s a small fort constructed by…,” Umble stopped mid-sentence and tapped the tip of her wing to her beak like she was thinking before turning to Thoot. “I say, Thoot, who actually constructed it? I’ve no idea, actually. The current occupants are malicious little pixies who collect teeth. Rather pesky. They raid the graves of the Boneyard, so I imagine they’ll accept a few teeth in trade.” That sounded like a big ol’ heap of a helluva not a lot of fun, but I reckon we didn’t have much of a choice.
“Who is Mictena?” The boss asked, stepping forward. His voice was flat and expressionless as he was probably still aggravated with how the bird talked. Both Umble and Thoot shuddered and the question before looking around nervously.
“Ah…oh…is she here already? How distressing.” He seemed to be enjoying Umble’s slightly panicked reaction but hid it pretty well. “Mictena is, in vulgar terms, our superior. She’s quite the potent psychopomp, and this corner of the Boneyard is within her jurisdiction. I would recommend that, like us, you avoid attracting her attentions.” I saw the boss’s sign that he’d explain later before offering a deep, honestly respectful bow to Umble and Thoot.
“We are thankful for your help in this matter,” he offered, not a hint of irony or venom in his words. Umble stood up a little more proudly at his actions even though she probably had no real concept of mortal niceties and protocols. “If you would just show us the way home, we can get back and discover the cause of our tragedy.”
About half an hour later, we found ourselves walking along the Dead Roads…not sure exactly why they’ve got such a fancy name. Save for the grimmer appearance that everything here had, it was just a dirt path with two banks on either side that were full of a thick, dense mist. Umble had warned us about what might happen if we decided to wander off. It was enough for me, especially after I watched one of the bone trees move. We decided to stop when we found some fallen logs and large stones and, after Ragnar and I managed to get a fire going, stopped to rest and eat.
We decided that the trail rations that had survived would be good enough and just needed the fire for warmth and comfort. The boss started a smaller fire for his portable alchemical stuff before starting to shave off ingredients with his knife. None of us spoke a word as we ate…well…the others ate. I’d gotten into the habit of tryin’ not to scare folks with my pearly whites since it was a little hard to see my regular teeth beyond the row of needle-like teeth. I offered to take first watch with Lissi who was absorbed in the tome that rested at her hip.
Everyone settled onto the bedrolls or a soft patch of dirt in Fijit’s case before falling into what I assumed was a light sleep before I turned to Lissi.
“Might not want to look over this way,” I warned her even though she already wasn’t looking up at me.
“Why would I…?” I gently pulled down the gaiter in front of my mouth, showing off my less than award winning smile before tearing into my own rations. She didn’t scream or nothin’ but rather looked curious about them. Kinda made me a little self-conscious given that no one had really ever stared at them like this before…but maybe she’d never seen a shackle-born with teeth like mine…or maybe never a shackle-born at all. “You have…teeth…like that?”
“Trust me, it makes even less sense to me, ma’am,” I offered, tearing off another bit of jerky. “Suppose it’s the one gift I got so I can still eat….”
“Do have any other…signs of your heritage?” I smiled at her, or the best I’d learned to do with my mess of teeth before pulling off my gloves and showing her my fingers. This actually wasn’t so bad, just made getting new gloves a bit of a pain due to how long and gangly my fingers were, skin tight around the bones and muscles. My fingernails grew into long claws that I’d found incredibly useful on the occasions I had nothing better as well as a little intimidating. “Interesting…I’ve…never had the pleasure of seeing someone with cursed blood up close….”
“As fun as that sounds, I can assure you I’m just like everyone else,” I grumbled. “Put my pants on one leg at a time….” I continued eating and it almost felt like she was waiting for me to continue the conversation rather than prying. It honestly felt kinda nice to not be badgered about stuff once she’d seen the mess of my front teeth. “But…I suppose it couldn’t hurt to humor a question or two…. What’cha want to know?”
“You call Andrel your boss, but I wonder if he is just your employer.” My smile only got wider. “You seem to be more comfortable with him than if you were just a hired mercenary.”
“I suppose we’re friends,” I conceded, looking over at the boss who was sleeping with his back to us. Wouldn’t surprise me if he was only half-asleep so that he could listen out for danger of me letting a few of his secrets slip. “But I think you two might have more in common, given your intellectual nature and such. He and I like each other well enough but leave each other to their own specialties.” I stopped to take another bite and swallow. “My turn…what brought you to Lastwall? Can’t imagine a wizard from Nex could find much in a militaristic watcher state.”
“Sylphs tend to go wherever the wind takes us,” she admitted, staring almost wistfully into the distance. “Our free spirit tends to come from the wind spirits who are responsible for our birth. Fijit is a kindred spirit, a druid who listens to the winds and allows them to usher her on her way. She offered to lead me around Avistan to experience all the continent had to offer.” The boss had talked about half-elementals a bit as it came up, talking about the stereotypes that followed each but also having a few stories about the ones he’d met along the way. Also explained the nonexistent breeze that tickled at her clothes and hair. “We had stopped in Roslar’s Coffer on our way to Varisia when whatever happened happened. Why were you and Andrel there, since you clearly have no love for the people of Lastwall?”
That was kind of an interesting question. The boss hadn’t said there was any special reason for us to be travelling, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to just go out on trips without work in mind. It was a little odd that we were travelling in Lastwall, though…given that there weren’t really many other nations we couldn’t reach safely without going through it. I absent-mindedly drew Pharasma’s spiral over my heart and pushed the thought out of my mind. “I’ve heard of the people of Ustalav doing that…what is it for?”
“Huh?” I asked, not really having noticed I’d done it. “Oh, it’s kinda like warding off the evil eye or misfortune I guess…something I picked up from the boss….”
“Are you not from Ustalav?” My scowl rose before I could stop it, but I kept it towards the fire. It was the only truly personal thing the boss had asked of me when he decided to hire me…where I came from. The one thing I hated to say because of the looks it gave me piled on with the whole shackle-born deal. Not really easy to bring up being Nidalese in polite conversation even if I was an escapee of the Land of Shadow and the militaristic theocracy of the capital. Lissi must’ve realized she’d hit a sore spot and had the good sense to not press any further, but the silence we let fall between us was a little awkward.
33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡq8guKjzrlH
We set back off along the Dead Roads after each of us had a few hours of rest, the boss and Noravia keeping a respectful distance from each other like they’d had a few words when it came time for their watch. I was honestly a bit surprised when we were deciding who would pair up for watches that he didn’t argue when Noravia said she wanted him to be her partner. Suppose it doesn’t matter in the long run, I didn’t hear nothing that made me want to watch her a little closer, but I know they had words with each other. Whether or not they came to some kind of agreement or something, I didn’t know but he gave me no hints that I’d need to keep an eye out. Though it seemed like Lissi took my advice as she actively tried to make conversation with the boss about his alchemy, and I could just see how much he was enjoying having a pretty girl who was an intellectual like him around.
Not sure what I was really expecting from something called the Dead Roads in the Boneyard, but they were pretty quiet. I guessed that any of the big stuff you might be worried about prowling the land of the dead were probably closer to the procession of souls marching to judgement rather than the eternal graveyard. A flock of those weird witch crow things flew overhead but it seemed less like they were looking for a group of living misfits who were just trying to get back home. Never gonna find me complaining about an easy ride.
Without a word Fijit pointed her staff at a small little gremlin-lookin’ thing with pixie wings sprouting from its back, a ragged bag in its hand as it flew away. It looked at us for a moment, baring a crooked smile with the worst teeth I’d ever seen and flying off. Not a word was spoken as we picked up the pace a little to keep up with the ugly little bastard. It kept looking over its shoulder and fluttering around like a butterfly…like the little guy was trying to lead us to his home. The boss and I had a few run-ins with fey, but even then, those were enough to tell me that I didn’t want to just blindly chase a tooth fairy. But given the circumstances…it was probably our best option.
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and then Add to home screen.