Chapter 53

Day 217:

John and Dulgan were being followed. They were a day’s walk into the swamp, on a direct line toward the Hidden Ziggurat. Though he’d been occupied at the time, Vorigan sent his retainers to escort the duo back to their drop-off point via his boat. In addition, Jashul and the three Vampyri who comprised Cain’s embassy to the Dwarven clans traveled with them to the same landing spot. The four would cut across the north end of the swamp and enter the Onyxhart gate to begin their task.

Both groups bade each other farewell, along with Vorigan’s warriors, before making their way separately. John and Dulgan promised to link up with the Knight in Southern Oasis after completing the Challenge. But a half-day into their trek, John realized someone was already on their tail.

They couldn’t afford to be taken while sleeping, so they made a false camp to trap whoever was tracking them, but didn’t catch anyone. When pressed in the morning, Dulgan indicated he knew of a few more dangerous undead types that might have the cunning to avoid obvious bait.

“A lich, shade or fyar gorta wou’be ta smart fer it.” The Dwimar suggested.

“I know we’re being trailed.” John insisted. “I can hear them. Sense them.”

Dulgan didn’t argue. “I dinnae dis’gree. Wha’ do ye propose?”

“Keep going.” John indicated their path. “I’ll try to circle back on them.”

The Dwarf agreed and continued on, intentionally making a little more noise than normal. John ghosted away from their track, slowly circling to get behind whoever it was. The swamp was full of decay and stagnant, muddy water. Moving quietly took extreme focus and immense patience. His senses strained to pick out an undead threat, so he was shocked to see Jashul creeping quietly right down Dulgan’s trail. The soldier sighed to himself in disappointment.

I thought I talked you out of doing this! He mused to himself.

Still cautious though, John let the young Dwarf continue past and kept watch for anything, or anyone following the lone figure. After an hour without contact though, John moved to catch back up. It took him until Dulgan stopped for lunch to make up the distance, Luckily, though the Dwimar insisted he lacked any skill in the wetlands, he’d managed to find a decent spot. A tiny sliver of solid ground stretched out into the middle of a small, still pond. The peninsula terminated in a knoll just large enough for a handful of people to camp. In fact, the faint trail and remains of a campfire said it had been used as such by others.

Jashul was hiding behind a tree on the pond’s shore, eying Dulgan suspiciously and scanning the area intently. The young Dwarf looked so jumpy, John immediately discarded any desire to sneak up on him.

“What are you doing here?” John demanded by way of greeting as he stepped into view several yards away.

Jashul jerked, his eyes locking onto the older man before returning to their searching. He shook his head and covered his mouth as well.

“I haven’t seen anyone else.” John said, closing the distance between them and keeping his voice low, just in case.

“Dere’s somethin’ ‘ollowing me.” Jashul insisted. “I ken feel it.”

Chagrined, John tapped his own chest. “Yeah, me. I’ve been behind you almost all day.”

Jashul blinked in surprise. “You ‘ave?”

“Yeah.” John confirmed. “C’mon, let’s eat.”

“Foolish boy.” Dulgan murmured when they joined him out on the isolated knoll.

He’d even lit a tiny fire while he munched on the rations they’d begged from the vamps. John and Jashul took a seat and copied the Dwimar.

“You shouldn’t have come.” John told the young Dvergyr after a few minutes.

“I ‘ave ‘s much right ta Challenge ‘s ya do!” Jashul retorted indignantly.

“Ya do.” Dulgan agreed. “But ya weren’t supposed ta do it now. Ye had yer own task to complete.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.” John cut him off. “Though he’s right, you had something to be doing right now. What happened to that?”

“The Vampyri said dey’ll be traveling openly.” Jashul argued. “Ah’ll ‘ave no ‘roblem catchin’ up ta dem when ‘ere done.”

“Fine.” John sighed tiredly. “But you shouldn’t have stayed near us.”

“Why not?” Jashul demanded.

Dulgan cocked his head quizzically. “Why?”

John’s sigh was bigger this time. “Dulgan, you’re resourceful and experienced. Even so, you should consider what I have to say. And this goes double for you, Jashul. Being around me is dangerous. Probably the most dangerous place you could possibly be, actually.”

“An’ why would ya say dat?” Dulgan scoffed.

John tried to explain. “I—can’t say exactly. I’ve been thinking about this a lot since our friends died, and I realized that things like that, or worse will continue happening to me so long as I stay here.”

“Stay ... in the swamp?” Dulgan guessed.

“Stay in this world.” John clarified.

“Now yer just talkin’ nonsense.” Dulgan rolled his eyes.

“I’m not.” John insisted. “I’ll always attract the deadliest situations. I told you about what happened up North, and on that island.”

Dulgan shrugged. “Ye ‘ere in da wrong place a’ day wrong time.”

“I don’t think so.” John disagreed. “You guys need to un—watch out!”

He glanced over at the trail leading from shore just in time to Notice an ever-so-faint outline of a person, with eyes that glowed heatedly in the infrared spectrum. Whatever it was, this thing was creeping down the path right for them, with a hand outstretched to grab Jashul’s neck.

John launched himself into the thing’s legs, wrapping both knees with his arms and shoving his shoulder and head into its torso. Several hard somethings screeched along John’s armored back as he forced the thing onto its back. Thinking about the paralyzing nails Xenos carried, John wiggled his way along the practically-invisible body until he was straddling its torso, with his knees shoved into its armpits. By feel, he gripped both of his opponent’s forearms and stretched out, dropping all of his weight down onto the thing’s head. This pushed both arms back, to the ground though it wiggled desperately to free an appendage.

The experienced ground-fighting soldier barely registered a roar of pain behind him as he worked to turn his positional advantage into a true victory. A quick glance at the others showed Jashul frozen indecisively, gaze bouncing from one of his companions to the other. Dulgan meanwhile, was flat on his back, with one knee up, foot pressed into the dirt. Another nearly unseen form had its arm around Dulgan’s neck and its other hand clawed at the Dwimar’s body. The Dwarf’s metal hand gripped his foe’s skull, thumb stuck into an eye socket as he pried the head away from his bloody neck.

“Jashul!” John hissed. “Get over here and stab this guy!”

Jashul blinked. “Stab who?”

“Dammit, get over here!” John ordered.

John’s foe’s squirming was positively epileptic at that point, so he dared not let go of his opponent’s arms.

“Can ... you see ... the thing ... I’m ... lying on?” John panted when the Dvergyr got closer.

“No!” Jashul answered, panicking.

“Damn! Well, get a knife out anyway!” John instructed.

The Dwarf did, crouching by John’s shoulder.

“Its head is right under my belly.” John explained. “You can see that I’m not on the ground, right?”

Jashul flopped down. “Yeah. Something’s holding you up, but it’s invisible!”

“Doesn’t matter!” John growled. “Just start stabbing below me!”

Fearfully, Jashul jabbed tentatively until his blade met resistance. Dark red fluid seeped down the metal. The liquid was thick, and nearly black in color.

“Hurry! Stab harder!” John rasped as his foe bucked and tried to roll John down between it and the Dwarf.

This time, Jashul braced himself nervously, but thrust as hard as he could. The edge sliced through something soft-ish again, before skittering along something harder underneath. It slid up, flaying the thing’s entire cheek open before puncturing an eyeball. As the flap of skin folded back, and the retina was exposed, the Dvergyr could finally see their foe’s bones and internal tissues.

The thing was thrashing about, teeth scraping on John’s armor, trying to find any purchase.

“Throat! Slice its throat!” John ordered, shifting his weight around to stay on top.

Now that he could see part of the thing’s face, Jashul had a point of reference for his next strike. He sliced down along its face until the point of this knife pushed past the jawline. Then he sawed for all he was worth. This time the nearly-black blood squirted all over his arm as he worked to sever its head from its body.

When his blade scraped the thing’s spine, he had to fish around until he could find a gap between vertebrae. The whole time it never stopped struggling. Only when Jashul’s knife sank into the dirt, cutting the last strands of tissue connecting the body to its head, did the movement cease.

The Dwarf flopped onto his back as John slowly disengaged.

“What are you waiting for?” John snapped. “Go help Dulgan!”

Jashul scrambled to his feet, but when he got near the other Dwarf, Dulgan’s opponent disengaged. That one slid into the water without a ripple.

Coughing and sucking in breath, Dulgan rolled over and crawled to the fire. He took out a blade and stuck it into the meager flames.

“Are you all ‘ight?” Jashul squeaked.

“Do I look ‘all ‘ight’?” Dulgan retorted. “Keep ‘n eye out fer more!”

Jashul scanned the water, scowling. “But ... I can’t see them!”

“Jus’ keep watch.” Dulgan growled, pulling the now-hot metal from the fire. “I ‘ope this works!”

With that, he held the blade flat against his wounded neck. Some of his blood hissed on contact, but otherwise nothing happened. He pushed harder, forcing more out. Again a small amount reacted to the heat.

“Gimme my pack, boy!” Dulgan pointed.

Jashul quickly complied. Dulgan dug around inside with one hand, keeping his knife pressed to his neck with the other.

“What do you need?” John asked, finally kneeling beside him.

“Bandages, an’ my needle.” Dulgan replied.

“Gotcha.” John took the pack and searched.

The process of bandaging and stitching Dulgan’s neck took much longer than it should have. But John seemed to be the only one who could see their enemies, even if only a little. He tried to direct Jashul in how to correctly slide the needle through to create an effective stitch, but after the third unnecessary stab, the Dwimar gave up.

“I don’ care! John, ya do it!” He commanded.

Afterward, a search of the body, which they could only do by feel, revealed elongated fangs, and a complete lack of any clothing. Its fingertips were normal as well, leading John to suppose that whatever it had been using to scrape at his armor was a dragon-enchanted reward.

“A Vampyr?” John supposed.

“Aye, but invisible.” Dulgan answered. “I ha’ ne’er e’en heard o’ dat.”

“There’s nothing you’ve ever heard about that even hinted at it?” John pressed.

“Nay.” Dulgan denied.

“Well,” John mused, “I can see their eyes. So I’ll have to be ours.”

They quickly vacated the area after that, avoiding any large bodies of water they came across.

That night, none of John’s arguments, including using the incident from earlier as an example, made any headway in convincing the Dwarves to abandon him.

“I’ll no’ hear ‘nother word ‘bout it.” Dulgan growled finally. “Shut it.”

Day 218:

Ream’ch and Veronyka landed with a spray of sand. By now, the constant sandstorm to their front and the always-present, always-irritating dust that got into absolutely everything had inured the group to its stinging particles.

The Valkyrie shook her head emphatically, panting. “It’s no good. No matter how high we fly, the wind drives us back down into the storm. I can barely see the other side in the distance, and only from higher than I’d feel comfortable being for any length of time.”

The other Earthers in the party: Jeff, Numb, and Spooky all turned to regard Vasin expectantly.

“I apologize.” The Islander spread his hands. “When you showed me that we could fly, I figured getting over the dust would be easy. It’s not like anyone I know has ever had the ability to do so before.”

Just getting to the Endless Sands Ocean had taken the group much longer than they figured. After various refugees had run-ins with the Daoyn Alfyr (the Lusalfyr nobility), the Enders had been politely but firmly instructed to vacate the city. Unwilling to leave them to an uncertain fate, the companions escorted the group upriver until they found a town that would let them settle nearby. The one they found already had a sizeable Northerner refugee population, but also boasted the Warden River Bastion, for which the town was named.

Unfortunately, none of the Wardens who’d fought with them in the Door-tunnels were present. The Marshal for the North, a scarred Nord with braided hair and beard whose only name seemed to be ‘Marshal’ was willing to take the group in, so long as any Evolved agreed to swear a ‘Short Oath’ of Warden service for five years. He threw open the fortress gates and bee-lined for Sygraid with open arms. He was sorely disappointed later when she informed him that she’d taken service with ‘Lord John’ and needed to depart shortly. He nearly reneged on his word when he discovered that none of the companions were staying, but several of the normal refugees volunteered, so he had to be satisfied with that.