Part 6: Consumed
“You’re lost!”
Higgson glanced at the Raven on his shoulder in irritation and kept his frustrations to himself.
“For a pet bird without a name, you seem to think highly of yourself and your opinions.”
The bird cawed in his ear and eyed him sideways, “Familiar! I am not a ‘Pet.’”
“Sure…you keep telling yourself that. Here! See that rotting log! She went that way.”
“How do you know Nespa went that way? Are you just making stuff up?”
Smirking and standing up from a kneeling position, he pointed at the log.
“Less than a week ago, that log was nearly intact. It has since rotten to the point of falling apart. That isn’t natural, hence Nespa.”
“It’s a LOG. How can you tell one from any of the other million or so out here? I’m a bird and even I can’t tell most trees apart unless I crapped on one in particular recently.”
“You either learn the signs in the Darkfenne, or you die in the Darkfenne. That’s the Fringer’s first rule. I recognize this particular log from before from its distinctive straightness, as most trees are warped and twisted by the dark energies here. Also, this tree was uprooted by a rutting Hydra and used as a back-scratching stick…see some of its molting scales are still caught in the bark near the tree’s remaining branches?”
“Ok, I guess I can buy that. You’re smarter than you look Paladin.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Whatever you say…Pink-skin.”
Realizing the bird was just trying to anger him for some strange reason, he looked back at the immaculately clean Blue Wizard, seemingly lost in thought. Higgson thought it odd how clean the Mage managed to stay until he realized the crafty old mage had a cleanliness spell on the robe.
“Sir? The path leads this way.”
“Hmm? Good. Good. Lead on Sir…Higgson was it?”
“No…yes Sir, but not…never mind.” Higgson grimaced and continued, “We should be getting close too, and I see signs of fresh slime. Her home can’t be too far then, even if it never stops moving.”
Norch spoke then, hesitation marked his voice as he looked around at his companions, “What? Her home moves? Slime? Will I need to fight her house?”
Higgson glanced at the Wizard, “You’ve never told him?”
The Wizard smirked; “I wanted it to be a surprise, as Norch is rarely surprised by much.” He looked back at the Minotaur then, “It’s more of a cottage really, not a house. Also, you shouldn’t have to fight it, unless you stand still in front of it and not move for an hour or so.”
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The grey-black flesh of the giant snail seemed barely to hold the large cracked shell, itself the color of rancid green pus, on its back. Slimed leaked from the snail carcass itself and the cracks in the shell, sometimes gushing out in thin streamers as the creature heaved to move its bulk another few inches through the swamp. Its size was big enough to equal a Hydra, and the cottage itself perched like a tick on its back, pieces of the cottage sticking into the cracks in its shell as if to help pry those parts open more and force out more slime. Moving, always moving...never ending.
Nespa had always said she liked to keep on the move to avoid any enemies she might have and to confuse those seeking her out. If they could find her, they were worth dealing with; otherwise she didn’t want to be bothered with nosy people looking to sell their souls for power, or idiot village girls seeking charms and potions to help them woo their latest puppy-love.
The sight of the witch’s cottage had rendered the Minotaur speechless. Then he proceeded to throw up at the smell. He’d heard that the constitution of Minotaurs was legendary, but he’d heard they also had a heightened sense of smell the poor fellow.
Higgson nodded in understanding. The first time he had witnessed the monstrosity that was Nespa’s home he had not only thrown up his meager lunch, but had passed out as well. His fellow bandits made fun of him for a while after that, but when he learned that most of them had done similarly too, he had felt better managing what passed for the group’s initiation ceremony. He had earned his status of second-in-command of the Fringer group soon after that.
The moving cottage was merely a ramshackle assemblage of wood and mud, that looked like it was both standing still and falling apart at once. Magic had a hand in its making of course. Nothing natural built that place. Even though he was used to it by now, he still felt his gorge rise at the eternally rotting giant snail that was the home’s locomotion through the Darkfenne.
Higgson glanced back at the frowning Wizard with his black-feathered Familiar perched on his right shoulder. “Sir? Remember to stay away from the fresh slime. It will rot your clothing off your body in minutes, and if it touches your skin…well let’s just say you don’t want it touching your skin.
“I have dealt with Nespa before young man. You call to her however. She will more likely answer you.”
A quick look of bewilderment crossed Higgson’s face, but he turned and called out.
A truly evil cackle answered his call. Not a simple laugh or guffaw from an evil person or over an evil idea: A cackle that was not only imbued with evil, but dripped with it, as if it was made from evil thoughts itself. It made Higgson’s hair stand on end, and caused a feeling of crawling bugs up and down his spine. Ignoring those unwelcome feelings, he held his chin high, looking at the balcony-landing the witch usually appeared on.
She didn’t disappoint. Her tall slim form was wreathed in black cloth and silk. Head to toe, her appearance was nothing more than a woman in mourning, only her eyes showing through the veils and head-wrappings she had. Her voice, as smooth as silk, poured from her like ice water, “Welcome Higgson. What do you bring me today? Where is your leader…Oh my! Did your fine sensibilities force you to finally get rid of that bothersome toad with the ugly hat?”
“Nespa! I bring news and a visitor! The Arena Mage Sir Vaddic the Blue of Westlock…”
Nespa interrupted him with a hiss of outrage and he could swear her eyes glowed golden in the overcast semi-darkness of the Fenne. Her hands gripped the solid wooden balustrade that protected a casual person from falling from her balcony. He imagined the wood smoked slightly from her grip, and cracked under her strength. At least he thought he had imagined it.
“You bring this…this…”
She spoke a word then that he had never heard before or in such hatred. That one Word of Power cracked an ancient marble stone sticking out of muck of the Fenne nearby.
“Give me one good reason while I shouldn’t wipe the lot of you off of Et-Heria and feed whatever is left to a nearby nest of hungry Gorgons!” Flames appeared in her hands then. Higgson had been taught to recognize a Fireball incantation when he saw it and dived for cover behind another outcropping of ancient cut marble, another forgotten remnant of the ancient and befouled land that had become the Darkfenne.
“You forget yourself again Nespalanata Swee. You are not all-powerful yet. Old…very old, but you are not all-powerful Shadow-Taker. Your use of ‘Et-Heria’ instead of 'Etheria' hasn’t been used since the age before the Demons ruled.”
The blue mage stood defiantly, his staff held and at the ready. A small wisp of mist and sparks of electricity seemed to pop from the staff’s top, a gnarly knot of wood the size of the Norch’s fist.
“You have until I get bored with this conversation Blue Mage-filth, and if I don’t like what I hear…you and I get to see how powerful I really am.”
Smiling broadly Vadicc spoke with confidence as he set his staff back on the ground so he could lean on it again, “Agreed.”
The witch’s golden eyes narrowed. “No tricks! No spells! If you do…”
Vadicc held his free hand up and open, “I swear as a true Mage-Knight of Westlock, that I will treat with you fairly and honestly: no tricks. The Paladin will attest to it.”
Golden and blue eyes turned to Higgson then as he glanced over the large chunk of blue-veined marble he had hid behind.
He felt nauseous, as they looked on him with a growing horror in his gut. He wasn’t going to get between them and argue his status now, so he agreed.
“I att…attest and swear to uphold the agreement as spoken.”
Vadicc turned back up to Nespa.
“Well? The Paladin has spoken.”
“A Fallen Paladin, and I still don’t trust you.”
“As I don’t trust you Nespa, but I need you…for now. That should be enough. You would be able to say that the Blue Wizard owes you a favor, minor though it is. Fallen is a subjective term by the way. A Paladin of any sort is always a Paladin in the end.”
“Minor favor? What hog’s intestines is this? I warned you…”
“Please? Can we retire to your…parlor? This smell is causing my gout to hurt worse for some reason.”
The witch kicked a bundle of sticks and rope that tumbled over the side of the balcony to dangle just outside of the shell’s slime sprays. It turned out to be a series of twisted ropes and wooden branches that made a ladder of sorts. “The minotaur and Familiar stay outside. I wouldn’t be able to get the bird-shit smell out of my carpet or patch the holes in my roof fast enough to keep the rain out. Do keep up however, I would just hate myself for either of you to lose your master under my care.”
Norch looked nonplussed at the witch’s comments, but glanced at his Master quickly.
The mage just waved a wrinkled and age-spotted hand at the big nursemaid and said, “If she was going to blast me, she would have done so outside, not wait until I was inside, then blow up her own home in the process.” The minotaur looked only a little relieved at that. The raven just perched on the roof of the cottage near the entrance and shat on it, looking self-satisfied if a raven could look self-satisfied.
Turning, the mage ignored the ladder and just levitated himself to the level of the balcony, stepped onto the slowly swaying cottage, and called back casually, “Come along Sir Higgson! You are to witness this meeting are you not? To make sure I uphold my honorary status as a Knight of Westlock! Besides you really don’t want to miss this show! I guaranteed it!”
The mage’s insane laugh as he entered the cottage left Higgson wondering again what he had gotten himself into. He was a Fallen Paladin. Why would they trust his word? How could they trust his word? How was this…weirdness?...a path worth following? Why...Why…Why was he talking to himself like a madman?
Higgson calmed himself quickly, sighed heavily, and glanced at the worried Minotaur Bodyguard to offer what he could in emotional support. Moving to the dangling rope and stick ladder then, he began climbing quickly, praying to the Goddess most fervently the Familiar would not crap on him while he was climbing.
Who knows…miracles can happen.
