Tourmaline and Pug left the burrow well before noon, despite the not so subtle persuasions of Lina’s father, Bazzite. In fact, it seemed to Pug his constant nagging had the opposite effect, hastening Lina’s efforts to depart. The irritated gnome did insist they stop by the myconid who had sold Jet the information one last time, but the poor fungus wasn’t able to do much more than confirm the information than he already had. In a rare break between pleading attempts to get Lina to stay, Bazzite explained the guilt-ridden ‘shroom had spent most of his recent free time searching the nearby forest with the guards in an attempt to find the barest hint of Jet.
“Now the council is calling off the search, I’m not sure what the poor fellow is going to do.” Bazzite’s words were heavy with melancholy. “I hope he stays, no one blames him for what happened.”
Lina’s face twisted in irritation for a brief moment, her displeasure making itself known against her will. Whatever her thoughts on the council’s decision, she maintained a terse silence, broken seldomly with small talk. Pug shuffled along, grateful to not be dragged into any unnecessary conversation with Bazzite, who was still less than pleasant to deal with. Lost in thought as he was, Pug yelped in surprise as Lina stopped in front of him and he ran into her rock-solid form. Lina hardly noticed the impact, exclaiming as an idea came to her.
“We should probably let Diamond know Pug and I are going to go searching for Jet.” She frowned as Bazzite shook his head, shutting the idea down even as it left her mouth.
“No, we shouldn’t. Getting her hopes up now, before we know anything for certain.” Bazzite said softly.
This too seemed to irritate Lina, though Pug sympathized with both sides. The gnomes seemed to have written Jet off completely, a premature decision Pug found particularly irksome. On the other hand, their lack of faith in his and Lina’s abilities was understandable. They were children by the standards of their peoples, and the Wylde was not known for the hospitality shown to those who wandered from their homes. Many of the locals who heard Lina’s plan looked at her with a mixture of disappointment, disapproval, and pity. The looks they gave Pug, particularly his wings, would have started fights in other circumstances.
It put a significant damper on what was an otherwise pleasant stay for Pug. He found the cool subterranean sprawl to be quite comfortable and soothing, the dim lighting and hushed quiet making him feel at home. It was certainly a far cry from what Orchid’s father, a fairy of high standing, much renown, and de facto dignitary of Pug’s fairy village, had to say about it. If you listened to the man you’d think he was called to the underworld itself. Pug’s relief upon leaving the burrow, emerging from the tunnel system into the morning light, was entirely due to his eagerness to be free of the thinly veiled hostility of the gnomish community.
Despite how pleasant he found life beneath the earth, the open air invigorated Pug. With a joyous whoop of excitement he took to the air, wings instinctively unfurling in the light breeze and catching the air. With a few heavy wingbeats he gained height, swooping and diving as he gave himself the exertion his body craved. Grinning like a fool, Pug pirouetted to wave at Lina, only to be taken aback by the scowl of disapproval Bazzite wore. Bazzite grabbed her by the shoulder, turning her slightly as he spoke too low for Pug to hear. By the look on her face, he was probably trying one last time to convince her to stay. The guards at the mouth of the burrow’s tunnel agreed with Bazz, eyeing Pug while they took up supporting positions behind Bazzite’s back.
It’s not my fault you guys can’t understand how good this feels. Pug thought sullenly.
Other Wyldelings generally regarded fairies as irreverent and care-free, due in particular to their tendency to shirk responsibilities and simply fly away. Pug couldn’t blame them, being poor wingless creatures they couldn’t understand the allure of it. Unfortunately this lack of understanding didn’t prevent them from judging his ability to keep Lina safe, much less to bring Jet home. A mischievous idea overtook him then, and Pug smiled devilishly. He turned his back on Lina and her entourage, whistling sharply. Two short notes and then a long one, which he held until his breath ran out and its piercing shrill faded.
It was only a moment before rustling in the underbrush was heard, catching the gnomes’ attention. They began to mutter amongst themselves nervously, choking off into startled squawks as Slink burst from the foliage, sending a spray of twigs and loamy debris flying. The marten panted raspily, beady eyes scouring the clearing around the burrow for whatever caused Pug to issue his emergency signal. Upon seeing Pug’s malicious grin his face twisted with wrath, which suited Pug’s purpose even more.
What Pug saw when Slink burst into their little clearing was an old friend who, in the middle of breakfast, was called to Pug’s side by their long established emergency signal. The gnomes, however, saw a predator as large as they were, whose snout soaked in blood which held scraps of fur and specks of dirt. His teeth were similarly bloodied and may have had chunks of flesh stuck between them, though Pug didn’t care to look too closely. His anger, which was solely directed at Pug, was a mask of animalistic rage to the gnomes. The judgemental cretins grew pale and broke into a nervous sweat as they scurried back to the mouth of the tunnel behind them. To Pug’s surprise and her own credit, Lina separated herself from the group even as they grasped at her to pull her back. Pug could see her throat work as she swallowed nervously, however she approached Slink with long strides. Pug descended and landed lightly upon the ground beside Slink.
“You… sent the… signal?” Slink said between breaths, eyes narrowed. “Where’s the emergency?”
“They were the emergency.” Pug explained, gesturing back at the gnomes.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Slink growled.
“I’m curious about that as well.” Lina asked testily. She certainly didn’t appreciate them frightening her fellow gnomes, particularly with her father amongst the victims of this particular prank.
“I thought it might clean up their attitude a little.” Pug said cheerily as he reached up and flicked a bit of fur off of Slink’s snout. “You missed a spot.”
Slink grumbled and turned away to sulk, ignoring Pug’s attempt to mollify him. Lina strode back a few paces and said her goodbyes to her father, standing a distance away to prevent them from just grabbing her. Bazzite was certainly upset, however his attitude seemed to shift as he regarded Pug and Slink. Certainly not pleased with either of them, but perhaps a bit more confident in them than he had been Or perhaps more confident in Slink, who displayed the evidence of his dangerous nature upon his maw.
Giving one last tear soaked goodbye, and a message for her mother despite saying their goodbyes earlier, Lina turned and strode away from her father. Slink departed as well, walking slowly until Lina caught up to him, but paying no particular care for Pug at the moment. Pug trudged after him, giving one last look over his shoulder to the gnomes behind him, whom he graced with a cocky smile and a wave. Bazzite’s scowling face followed him until they rounded a bend on the trail, disappearing from sight.
***
“What in the Queen’s name was that?” Lina finally snapped and asked. “Did you have to frighten them? I’m going to be in so much trouble, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
The trio had made good time since leaving the burrow, though they were lucky they often had paths and trails to follow. Occasionally they had to cut through the brush, an act that would become the norm as they moved further from the civilized areas of the Wylde. Trade and travel between communities here was a rare and difficult thing, but entrepreneurial spirits always found a way, their perseverance providing Pug’s troupe with the majority of the paths they used. Most of the clans of the forest kept to themselves, and there was little reason or impetus among Wyldelings to build official roads. Travelers in the Wylde relied on paths other’s wore into the forest floor or game trails left by the wildlife, and their own sense of direction to make it anywhere here. It hadn’t taken long before Tourmaline had scrambled onto Slink’s back, allowing Pug to take the burden of blazing the trail solely on his shoulders.
“How about you come down here and help me out, and I’ll be more than happy to explain myself.” Pug snapped as he attempted to reach behind himself and free his wing from where it was snagged on a particularly stubborn bush.
“What do you think, Slink? Should we help him out?” Lina asked, her tone of a petulant child.
Instead of answering Slink leapt up and used a nearby tree to circumvent the bush Pug was struggling with, his sharp claws easily finding purchase on the bark. Tourmaline clung onto his back tightly as he slithered forward and dropped off the tree, landing in front of Pug with casual grace. Pug grumbled under his breath as the marten trotted away with Lina in tow, freeing his wing after struggling for a while longer.
Upon freeing himself, Pug found he had been left behind and was forced to scramble to catch up to his travel companions. Huffing with the added exertion, he couldn’t help but level a glare at Lina’s back. A glare he dropped after taking a few moments to calm down. Perhaps it was part of his nature, indeed the very nature of all fairies, to be petty and vindictive. It was rumored they took after their larger cousins in regard.
doesn’t make it okay, does it? He chided himself.
He prodded the guilt he ought to be feeling from where it hid in the more reasonable parts of his mind, bringing it to the fore and forcing himself to feel it until it eclipsed his irritation. With his more responsible side winning control, he was forced to evaluate his actions and found them quite reprehensible. Which meant there was only one thing to do and with a deep sigh took with it the last of his stubborn resistance, he spoke.
“I’m sorry. What I did was childish and petty.” He apologized.
“And what, exactly, are you sorry for?” Lina’s frosty tone caused him to pause, but the pair of them slowed to a halt which he took as a good sign.
“I…” Pug began hesitantly, struggling to find the words he needed to explain himself. “I didn’t like how they were treating us. How they were treating me, rather. It felt like they didn’t trust me to keep you safe. I thought I’d give them a little shock, sort of put them in their place.”
The trio walked in silence for a time. Pug was nervous and his sweat wasn’t entirely from exertion. He kept his eyes on the ground under his feet, not wanting to risk meeting their eyes. Finally Slink spoke, displeasure coating his words.
“I like you Pug, but you made me out to be a monster, see. I’m not your thug, not your man to use when you want to buck a bunch of saps.” A sharp flick of the tail punctuated his statement, a hint of a smile entering his tone. “I have to say though, it’s nice to see you can act like a fairy sometimes.”
Pug didn’t think his head could bow any lower, however the guilt in his heart redoubled and pressed down upon him. The hurt in Slink’s words was readily apparent and wounded him in turn. Still, Pug couldn’t help but crack a grin as the marten teased him, a sign his furry friend would be willing to forgive him eventually.
“I’m with Slink. You’re usually so serious I was beginning to wonder if you were actually a fairy.” Lina taunted, looking over her shoulder.
Pug did his best to look aggrieved, but despite himself a relieved grin worked its way across his face. Lina giggled at the way his face twisted against his will, enticing Slink to turn and watch as the fairy struggled to control his expressions. By the time the group broke through the underbrush into the next clearing they were all laughing with the kind of relief that comes when you’ve reconciled with friends. The day was bright and fresh, their journey just resuming after their temporary rest. All of this contributed to a sense of ease and cheer as they stepped back into the sunlight, the sudden brightness blinding them, the group physically and emotionally exposed, completely unprepared.
A hissing whistle split the air, ending in a sickening thud reverberated through Lina’s frame. She cried out, hands twisting to reach her back, and fell from where she was perched on Slink. Simultaneously a wooden shaft sprouted from Slink’s shoulder, the marten twisting around violently as he snapped at the source of his sudden pain. Pug was moving, hand outstretched to offer assistance but something struck the small of his back and brought him to the ground. Pushing himself roughly onto his back with his hands as his lower body seized and froze with the pain and the impact, he found a ragged, scrawny goblin crawling out of the brush and up his legs with a bloodstained stone gripped tightly in its hand.
Goblins were, as a rule, hideous creatures. Rumored to be Wyldelings who had sided with darkness in the days of yore, believed to be cursed by the Queen for their betrayal. Their skin was withered and gray, split and gnarled like tree bark. Where they remaine, rotted yellow teeth were filed to points, though every other tooth in this particular goblin’s maw was cracked or chipped. Dark eyes glittered with malicious intent and savage intellect filled Pug’s view as the creature drew itself up onto its knees, rock brought over its head to be slammed down onto Pug. Past its looming, grotesque form the imperiled fairy could see two more goblins, virtually indistinguishable to the one straddling him now. One had a bundle of short spears, if you could call crudely sharpened sticks spears, strapped to its back for throwing while the one next to it simply carried a crude club hewn from a log or stump and reinforced with stones along the striking service. Pug could hear more goblins behind him, as well the snarls and yips from Slink as the marten fought back. Lina was frighteningly silent, but Pug had no time to worry for her.
The goblin straddling Pug let out a ululating cry, overly long tongue squirming obscenely in the air. The creature believed it had secured its kill and the honor to go along with it, but the fairy hastened to disabuse the twisted abomination of notion. Pug struck out with his palm, his diminutive size belying the fact he was one of the strongest fairies in his village. His open hand collided with the tip of the goblin’s chin, snapping the mouth full of jagged teeth closed on its pallid and wormlike tongue. ,Recoiling from his strike, the goblin instinctively brought its hand to its mouth as its eyes watered with tears of pain. Pug capitalized on his enemy’s shifting center of gravity and surged forward toward it. In a flash he had the upper hand, the goblin pinned beneath him and his knife in his hand, withdrawn from its sheath on his waist in the blink of an eye. His spear was still being carried by Slink, who wasn’t in any position to deliver it to him at the moment.
Pug lashed out, blade a silver blur as he split the flesh of the goblin’s throat, leaving it in the dirt behind him as he rolled to his feet. He brought his knife up in a guard as the two goblins he’d sighted earlier approached, the pair of them eyeing their dying comrade with disdain. Death among goblins was common, the survivors believing themselves stronger than the deceased regardless of how powerful the dead were in life. Their society, if you could call it that, was a brutal and savage climb to the top of the hierarchy and there were no records of a slow and peaceful death among their kind.
One, armed with a club, stepped past his dying comrade and raised his weapon with such ease that it seemed weightless. The other flipped one of his short spears into a throwing stance, chittering something incomprehensible to his club-wielding ally. Pug was no slouch with a knife, and he was confident in his reflexes, but he wasn’t sure he could parry a thrown spear at such a short range. The goblin’s warped grin, which showed it understood just how vulnerable he was, vanished in a blaze of light.
In the middle of its throw a glass flask, sparkling in the sun, soared past Pug and struck it in the chest. A metal ball inside the flask struck the side and cracked the container, exposing the liquid contents to open air wherein they immediately ignited and covered the wretched creature in hungry flames. The spear buried itself in the dirt between the javelineer and Pug, its wielder suddenly too preoccupied with other matters to follow through on the throw. The club wielding goblin stared in horror at his comrade as he screamed in agony, uselessly rolling on the ground to try and put the fire out, allowing Pug to glance over his shoulder to thank his surprise benefactor. He was glad to see Lina grinning triumphantly, if somewhat green around the gills, though her smile turned into a mask of fear as she gestured urgently behind him. Pug looked back to his remaining foe in time to see the club coming at him in a wide swing. The fairy attempted to dodge out of the way, but something caught his trousers, tripping him and bringing him to his knees. The club whistled through the air over his head as the goblin failed to correct its trajectory in time, his inexperience and lack of training on full display as the goblin was pulled along by the weight of his weapon.
Pug took the moment the goblin needed to recover to look down and figure out what he’d tripped over, irritated to see the first goblin gripping his legs even as the last of its lifeblood trickled into the earth. It cackled madly at him through teeth stained brown with what passed for blood among its monstrous kind. Frustration welled in Pug as he stabbed at it, the resilient little monster twisting its head around to dodge the blade. All it needed to do was buy its compatriot enough time to finish the job, its brutish companion lifting its club for a strike would crush Pug into a pulpy mess. As the club leapt towards him with brutal speed, Pug flapped his wings, hard. He couldn’t properly take flight with his extra baggage, but the wingbeat was enough to push him back and bring his tagalong into the line of fire. The club’s arc terminated in a crunch, cutting the mocking laughter of the grappler short with a gargling exhalation. Before the fratricidal goblin could ready its club to try again Pug sprinted straight at it. Gripping the club with one hand and forcing it down and away from him, Pug lashed out with his dagger and planted it square in the goblins chest. He kicked the thing away as its grip on the club loosened, taking the unwieldy weapon for himself.
Pug spun around with the club in hand, assessing the situation. Lina had collapsed in the dirt where he had last seen her, motionless. A smattering of fallen goblins laid some distance away from her were frozen in twisted poses, faces masks of pain and flecked with sweat and specks of white, frothy spit. Their pathetic state was likely the product of Tourmaline’s alchemy. Pug yearned to go to her, however Slink’s sprinting form caught his eye. The marten was streaking to the far end of the clearing, calling out a warning to Pug as he ran. Pug couldn’t hear him over the distance and the sound of his blood rushing in his ears, however his eyes caught a gray blur sailing through the air towards him. He hastily raised the club to intercept the projectile, a sharp crack resounding and the club shivering in his hands as a stone ricocheted off of it. Slink reached his destination in the same moment, the goblin slinger going down under his furry bulk.
Pug glanced about quickly to be sure there were no other surprises waiting for them, seeing nothing but dead goblins. and the writhing, screaming slinger Slink was tearing into as the marten’s blood frenzy came to a head. With no threats readily apparent, Pug ran towards his prone friend. Her face was pale, framed with damp locks of hair which was plastered to her face with a mixture of sweat and blood. Her breaths were shallow gasps, and upon closer inspection he saw a deep gash just above her ear. A sharp gash sounded as Slink returned from his slaughter and saw the wound for himself. Flicking his gaze over to Slink, he saw the marten was looking rather dire himself. Two short spears jutted out of his hide, and several lacerations marked him, including a shallow one split his upper lip on his right side.
“Did you see what took her down?” Pug said tersely as he rushed over to Slink and pulled first aid supplies from the bags the marten carried. Given the marten could still move, Tourmaline had priority for treatment.
“The slinger got her. She’d just finished off the pack that had come at her when the stone struck her head.” Slink looked down on the gnome with concern.
Pug set to work immediately, imminently grateful for the poor equipment and even worse training of the average goblin. He was even more thankful for the hardy nature of gnomes, for even with all the handicaps the goblins had, he was certain if the stone had struck him in the head he’d be dead now. As it was he was the healthiest among them, hardly impaired by the bruise spreading along his back where the grappler had struck him. He cleaned Lina’s head wound as thoroughly as he could, not trusting the goblins to clean or maintain their weapons. Once done he applied a magical salve he’d learned from Baba, before wrapping her head in bandages. Tourmaline likely had her own salves and poultices among her things, but trifling with an alchemist’s equipment without their guidance could only lead to ruin. Lastly he tilted her slightly to pull up her shirt and look at her back, where she was initially struck. Thankfully nothing more than a bruise was blossoming there, and while it would hurt like hell her life was in no risk from particular injury.
Then it was on to Slink. The stubborn marten categorically refused stitches, doubtful of Pug’s skill in the matter. Pug didn’t admit it to his friend, but the doubt was well founded. Any stitches from the fairy would make you wish you’d left the wound to heal as nature intended. They finally settled on a truce where Pug wouldn’t stitch the wounds, but the marten would allow him to clean them all and apply his salve. The truce didn’t stop the marten snarling and yipping as the spears were pulled from his hide, nor did it stop him from whining as Pug forced him to stay still and allow the salve to dry on the wounds, forming a sort pseudo scab.
“Is the dame going to be alright?” Slink asked softly, peering down at Lina in concern.
“Gnomes have notoriously thick skulls.” Pug reassured, hoping the worry he felt wouldn’t bleed into his words and be heard by the marten.
Slings were efficient weapons, and he couldn’t help but call in his mind’s eye the bruise spreading across the gnome’s back. Her kind were built hardy, but a blow to the head was a dangerous and mercurial thing. Recalling the flight of the stone he deflected and the impact it made against his club, which had since been discarded and his knife reclaimed, he knew if it had even hit him in the chest he’d be in dire need of a healer.
“Are you able to move? Think you’d be able to carry her?” Pug changed the subject.
“My shoulder is going to be a little weak. I could carry her, but it would be slow. We’d have to be careful.” Slink explained, his tone apologetic.
“Let’s get her on your back then. All this blood is going to attract attention.”
Pug suspected Slink would have paled at that statement, if his furry friend was capable of doing so. There were things in the Wylde you absolutely did not want to run into, much less wounded and carrying an unconscious gnome. Those things would be attracted to the scent of blood, death, and rot like bees to a flower, and they couldn’t afford to be here when they showed up. Pug had to employ his wings to help with lifting Lina onto Slink’s back, the marten dipping down to make it easier to get her in her seat. If the marten felt any pain or discomfort he refused to let it show, remaining stoic as Pug tied Tourmaline onto his back with rope. Once he had her secure, he pulled his spear from where it hung among their bags, and loaded himself up with as much of their luggage as he could, hoping to somewhat alleviate the burden on Slink. He made sure he could still fly, and if the exercise took more exertion than normal then that was okay for now.
That begged the question of where they went from here. Turning back to the gnome village was probably the wisest course of action. They’d have actual healers there, with real experience dealing with head trauma. Of course, he’d probably never be allowed to see Tourmaline again seeing how he had failed so miserably to keep her safe, and they certainly wouldn’t let her continue her search for Jet. She’d never forgive him, however even in light of all of that in combination with his ruined pride, he was beginning to believe it was the right call.
Pug turned to get Slink’s input on the matter when the crack of a tree branch being pushed aside sounded out behind them. The pair of them turned to regard this new threat, eyes widening and jaws dropping in horror, for from the side of the clearing near where they’d initially entered the cursed place was one of the very beings they hoped to avoid by fleeing the area. Billowing gas sacks and uncountable humming wings kept the thing, for which Pug had no name, aloft. The beast nearly defied description, an amalgamation of disparate pieces of other creatures.
It, whatever it was, made the decision for them. With any luck it would focus on the goblins and leave the wounded trio be, however it certainly wouldn’t allow them to slip past it and return to the burrow. Worse, if they brought it back there it may become a threat to the gnomes in the long term. Slink seemed inclined to agree, nudging Pug into the woods as he backed away from the monstrosity. Once the underbrush hid them the pair bolted away, intending to get as far from the clearing site of the battle as they could.
***
Their journey continued with the pair in much more somber spirits than they had started out in. Occasionally they would hear a disturbance in the forest behind them or, worse, the sounds of the forest would quiet as though danger loomed. Unknowing abomination that it was, it appeared as though the monster was following them to some degree. He took on the role of a pathfinder as they wandered deeper into the woods taking to the air to find the easier and safer paths to traverse. This was as much an effort to put the memories from his mind as it was to be useful to Slink, who was suffering under the combined weight of his cargo and his wounds. It wasn’t long before the soreness in his back was reawakened, strained from constant flight under the burden of the bags he still carried. He refused to give any of the load to Slink, even as the marten insisted upon it. Still, he wasn’t so proud as to pass up any opportunity he had to walk, giving his wings a break any time their path did not need his input or surveying. It was not long before even this became excruciating, his legs burning under the weight and his sore with repeated impacts.
Still, neither Pug nor Slink made any complaint. Indeed, neither of them even spoke much to one another, the both of them paranoid, furtively glancing about for the source of every movement and noise. Soon the afternoon faded into evening, and evening into night, the pair of them relaxing slowly as they began to understand the distance they’d put between themselves and the creature. Unfortunately as the tension left them they began to slow, the adrenaline sustained them finally running dry. Pug was on the verge of calling for a stop when they rounded an ancient old oak and found themselves face to face with a decrepit old castle. The thing sagged with the weight of years and deterioration, stones having tumbled free and settled at the base of its walls like toys scattered in front of a child’s toy box.
Slink and Pug locked eyes, the pair of them exhausted enough to agree with nothing more than the expressions on their face to sleep there tonight. The fact it was abandoned, falling apart, and most likely haunted did little to dissuade either of them, their weary bodies long past caring at this point. Anything was better than lying out in the open waiting for more goblins, or worse, to ambush them. Pug came abreast of Slink, pausing to check on Tourmaline before they continued on. Her breathing was shallow and her face pale, though it looked like some color might have returned to her complexion. He hoped so, at least. He brushed a lock of hair out of her face and her lips twitched, perhaps speaking in her dreams.
They trundled down to the gate of the fort, treading on the vestiges of a path nearly entirely reclaimed by nature. The gate ahead of them stood out among the age and decay of the surrounding furnishings, the wood bright and freshly hewn. The only part of the gate that looked like it was original to the fort was the metal banding that held it all together, a long strip of blackened iron worn with age, faint speckles of rust beginning to eat at the material. Pug nodded at the suspiciously recently redone gate, startling as the gate opened and began to swing inward. Slink glared suspiciously at it, the darkness inside the courtyard giving the aperture the aspect of a beast lazily yawning its mouth wide to accept them inside. The stones lying about, shed by the wall and battlements as age wore at the structure, framed the mouth-like orifice like old crumbs from forgotten meals. Pug shook off the rising suspicion that, should he cross the threshold, he would be its next meal.
A light flared into existence beyond the gate, growing closer. Upon emerging from the gateway the small light illuminated a wizened old man. The poor, ragged fellow was whip thin and his clothes hung off his body in voluminous curtains. A red knit cap perched atop his head and flopped with each clomping step he took. This sandwiched his eyes with his bulbous and similarly reddened nose, leaving them shadowed. The old timer was missing more than a few teeth as far as Pug could see as he smacked his lips gummily.
“Can I do ya fer?” He babbled. Slink gave the fairy a particular look, making it clear Pug was the one expected to do the talking.
“I hate to be a bother, but could we stay the night? We were waylaid by bandits and our friend was hurt.” Pug explained slowly.
“Nuh food fer ya.” The old man smacked his lips.
“That’s alright, we brought our own food.” Pug reassured him, not unkindly.
The elderly man scratched his head in thought. He inspected under his fingernail, presumably to see what the scratching had freed. Uninterested in his finger’s bounty, he blew whatever it was away with a harsh exhalation. His casual uncouthness brought Pug’s sense of smell into the line of fire for the man’s rancid breath, and it brought tears to his eyes. Pug tried to cough them away inconspicuously as the man continued.
“C’mon in. Gots some blankets for yas. Maybe some herbs or some’n. Yer friend looks like she could use ‘em.”
The old man was gruff, to be sure, but apparently quite accommodating. He led them through the ward and into the keep proper. It was hard to see much in the evening gloom, but what he did see was as poorly repaired and maintained as the outside of the castle led him to believe. Except for the gates themselves, at least, which had Pug very curious.
“Do you live here all alone?” He ventured, probing delicately.
“Yessuh. E’ryone else lef ages ago.”
“And you stayed? Why?” He asked curiously as the man nodded.
“Only home I known.” He said simply
Conversation ceased then, the old timer done with talking and Slink and Pug far too exhausted to hold the conversation on their own. He led them into the great hall of the keep, a wall in the far corner crumbling and taking the floor of the room above with it. Pug and Slink choosed a portion of the floor as far from the breach as possible and brushed it clean of the larger debris. Pug laid out Lina’s bed roll before pulling her off of Slink’s back and laying her atop of it.
He took the opportunity to check his friends’ wounds, exchanging Lina’s bandage for a new one. The poultice seemed to be working, preventing the wounds from festering and going septic. In fact, the wounds seemed to be healing a little faster than naturally would. Baba had earned as many tributes as he could carry once he was back home. His mood was only slightly dampened by the fact that, even with Baba’s nearly magical medicine, Lina showed no signs of waking up.
“You said you might have some herbs?” Pug called to the man, who lingered in the near distance, eyes glittering softly.
“Yessuh, if’n you’d be followin’ me.” He moved with surprising alacrity given his apparent age, for he was almost at the stairwell before Slink spoke up.
“There’s something hinky with this guy.” The words rasped forth in a harsh whisper. Pug gave him a reassuring pat on his good shoulder.
“I know Slink but it’s better it happens now than when I’m dead asleep, see?” He said, mimicking Slink’s accent.
Slink looked unconvinced but nodded in agreement anyways. Pug propped his spear up against the wall, but made sure he brought his knife with him. With a whispered reassurance he would watch Tourmaline, Slink gave his friend a look of concern as Pug moved into the darkness. Moving at a light jog he caught up with the old man quickly.
“What’s your name, old timer?” Pug asked nonchalantly. Regardless of what happened next, it would be nice to have a name for the man.
“Red.” The man was still terse, however it didn’t seem he realized Pug’s suspicions.
“Red? Why’s that?” He asked, genuinely curious.
“Hmm.” The wizened face took on a thoughtful expression as he hummed in thought. The humming, and thinking, went on for long enough Pug was growing concerned. Finally Red’s face lit up and he pointed at his own head. “Hat!”
“Because of your hat huh?” Pug snorted. “Fair enough.”
The stairs opened up into what would have been the lord’s bedroom. Or given the remote nature of this fort, it would have more likely been the garrison commander’s. Nearly the whole outer wall had fallen into the wilderness below and the only furnishings were a moth-eaten bed and a worn down dresser next to it. The dresser was between the bed and the open air, rather precariously positioned, water damaged bulk teetering over the void. Red gestured at the dresser, however, indicating to Pug the promised herbs were inside.
How convenient. Pug thought to himself snidely.
He sidled along the narrow stretch of floor he had to maneuver with, inching closer to the dresser. Falling wouldn’t kill him, or even risk hurting him, but it would leave him vulnerable and unable to respond for a moment. After a few shuffling steps he made it to the drawer, bracing himself against the adjacent bed while he pried the drawer open. As he worked at it he spoke.
“Well Red, I’ve got one more question.” Pug spoke a little louder.
The wind had picked up as the evening cooled and now howled along the ragged edges of the breach in the wall. They had climbed three stories up the tightly enclosed spiral staircase to arrive here, and were relatively high up for most people their size. Red harrumphed, a reaction Pug took to be permission to continue.
“You said you were here alone, Red. So how’d you get that fancy new gate installed all on your own?” Pug asked, palming his knife as surreptitiously as he could.
He turned to look at Red, expecting the man to be where he left him at the door to the room. The man was not as old and frail as he seemed, for in a flash he was bounding towards him. He leapt over the bed, crossing it diagonally and slamming into Pug, grasping the hand held the knife in an iron grip. Red’s other hand clenched tight around Pug’s throat, firmly choking him.
“Thought you were clever, boy?” Red snarled.
His mask slipped, the illusions reinforced the image of a doddering old man falling away to reveal glowing yellow eyes burned sullenly in his recessed eye sockets. Spittle flew from his mouth in a fine spray, covering Pug’s face. Pug tried to respond, his voice reduced to a choking gurgle that consumed any snide remark he would have tried to make. He hadn’t known what this man was before, but as the illusions fell away the truth became clear. He was a powrie, which should have been obvious in retrospect given his red knit cap.
“I saw what ya did t’ my boys. They wasn’t smart or strong but they was mine, fairy.” He leaned in even closer, until Pug could feel the heat of his skin. “Ya beat ‘em, and ya left ‘em there for monsters to pick at. Yer going to pay for that.”
Pug found it annoying that the goon spoke so clearly now, after dropping the facade. His accent before had been grating, but it was far more suitable for the powrie than the menacing stone he used now. He tried to turn his hand and slice at the powrie with the blade he held, but the yellow eyed man noticed and slammed Pug’s hand against the dresser, sending the knife clattering to the floor.
“No, it’s time for you to listen. I’m going to kill you and gut you and soak my hat in your innards.” So that’s where that smell is coming from! “And once I get my youth and my power back, I’m going to go down there and kill your furry ferret friend. The girl though, the girl she’ll be glad she’ll never wake again.”
Red punctuated his sentence with a wicked smile. Pug snarled and spat, his throat working against the constricting hand to speak. Another dull gurgle made its way out, and the powrie’s eyes belayed a morbid curiosity. He loosened his grip to allow Pug to speak.
“Wassat, fairy? What’re ya tryin’ to say?”
“I said you forgot one thing.”
“Wassat?”
“Bumpkins like you can’t fly.” Pug smiled viciously and pushed against the bed, throwing the both of them into the open air.
The powrie grasped desperately for the dresser, but the unbalanced furniture tumbled off the edge with them. His hold on Pug’s throat loosened further in his surprise which allowed Pug to worm his way free, though the powrie’s ragged nails tore furrows into his throat. Pug hovered in the air as he watched Red tumble through the air. The unfortunate servant of darkness never got his bearing and landedtop first into the rubble in the ward below. Pug drifted lazily down the impact site, sheathing his knife and rubbing at his wrist where the powrie had held him.
There, lying among the stone was the broken body of Red. The powrie tracked Pug with hateful eyes and his mouth worked to speak though he made no sound. Pug touched down lightly and leaned over, resting his hands on his knee. He regarded the dying creature coldly, watching him suffer dispassionately for a moment before speaking.
“Also, my friend in there, he’s a marten.” Pug announced pettily.
Confusion wracked Red’s features as the light faded from his eyes. Pug waited a bit longer until he was sure Red was no longer with the living before staggering back inside the keep. If Slink hadn’t thought it odd Pug was entering through the front door after going upstairs, he was certainly alerted when he saw the blood flowing down Pug’s neck and soaking his shirt. Pug waved a dismissive hand and approached their baggage, freeing the medical supplies for the second time this day.
Pug plopped himself down next to Slink heavily. Using a waterskin he soaked a rag and cleaned his wounds before applying the same poultice and bandage technique he had for Lina and Slink. As he worked he spoke, mostly to keep himself awake.
“How’s Lina?”
“Breathing. She’s not gonna hop up and dance a jig, if that’s what you’re asking. How’s the old fogie?”
“Would you believe me if I said he was sleeping peacefully?” Slink chuffed at this, jostling Pug who was leaning up against him at this point.
“What was he?” Slink said, disquiet shadowing his voice.
“A powrie.” Pug said, going on to explain as he felt Slink’s confusion through his warm fur. “A red cap. They’re a higher form of goblin. They soak their hats in the blood of those they slay, using dark magic to keep them young and strong. This one had been a long time between soaks, though. He was about to dry out and perish.”
“Any relation to those goblins who jumped us earlier?”
“Yeah, he made it sound like he was their boss. We shouldn’t expect any more of them, goblins are pretty timid without a strong leader to wrangle them.” Pug assured. “If any are left alive, they’re scattering to the hills.”
Pug left it at that as he finished applying his bandages. He put away his supplies and set them to his side, but didn’t have the strength to stand and put them back in their bags. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to muster the strength he needed to do a few more things before stopping for the night. He vaguely heard Slink ask something further, but before he could ask the marten to repeat himself he was drifting off into sleep. He was fast asleep when Slink curled his body around him, covering Pug with his tail to keep him warm through the night.
