Vanya's Journals, Entry 34To your great annoyance, the next two pages of the journal are stuck together. You hold it up to the light, and through the thin sheets, you can make out dark outlines of text, so you know they aren't blank. You bend them a bit, hoping they'll separate without much effort, but as you do so, several pale blue sheets of paper flutter to the table from further on in the journal. You pick them up and look at them curiously, noting that the handwriting is in human, not dwarven or elven. It's clearly not Vanya's at all.
"What is this?" you ask the woman across from you, holding up the fallen sheets with a quizzical expression.
She shrugs. "You think I know?"
"You're the only one around to ask," you point out, carefully inserting the sheets with the others. As you do, you notice a number of other loose sheets, of varying size and quality. However, you ignore these, figuring you'll read them when you get to them, and you turn back to your two stuck pages. After carefully pulling them apart, you continue reading. Leaving someone is hard, if you care about them. Even if the person's bad qualities outweigh their good, you're afraid, subconsciously, that they'll be different when you get back. People change. It's something you learn early on in life... It's something you try to forget... it's something you never can.
We
fear change. It doesn't matter what it is that's changing, so long as it doesn't change often. We all have that weakness. And... I am no exception.
It was late autumn of 209. It was the dry season, and it hadn't rained for several weeks. Stray, dead leaves tumbled across the plains from distant trees. Scattered, sparse clumps of bramble and thorn bushes caught them sometimes, holding them captive until they rotted. The sky was always an inhospitable gray, and the morning sun did little to brighten it, or bring back that old, familiar sky-blue color, while the low-hung crimson clouds only reinforced the gloom. The scenery was always this macabre, but now that I was finally leaving it behind...
I didn't want to. I wanted to stay with Scylk.
"Warmaster," I said in a pleading tone, "just give me a chance. I
know I can help get your people back to Piscyth. They wouldn't try to kill me if they thought I could return them to their home, would they?"
There was a brief silence between us, and we stood side by side, watching the leaves as they fluttered by. After a moment, Scylk held his mouth upwards as if tasting the wind, and then turned it back to me. "I am sorry, Spala," he clicked with a tinge of regret.
I felt a sinking feeling in my chest. "You can't send me away like this, Scylk. There's nothing for me here anymore, you have to understand," I said earnestly, placing a hand on his scythe. "Everyone I loved is gone. I don't have anywhere to go. I want to come with
you... I want to see the stars."
He gave a quiet chuckle, chirping with his scythes. "Lucky girl," he said softly, "look around you. Look at whom you have traveled with since last winter." Scylk gestured towards his soldiers behind us, and tapped me on the shoulder. "You want to come to the stars, but Spala... the stars have already come to
you."
I couldn't argue with it, and I felt a lump in my throat. "Scylk, I don't want to leave you... You've become almost like a father to me."
He seemed to beam at the words. "What you say honors me, and warms my soul. I would be proud to call you a daughter, if we meet again."
"But what if we never do?"
"Then we shall not, but nonetheless, I am sure we will."
He seemed more than confident as he said it... it seemed almost as if he
knew. All the same, I wasn't so convinced. "How can you be so sure?"
"Young Spala," he chuckled, "I am aged over three hundred of your years, and a child of the Grand Mystic. I see things others cannot. One day, we
will meet again. It will not be until I persuade my people that not all Dwarves and Humans are evil, but one day... we shall. Our paths are crossed too tightly to forbid a second meeting, and if you do not come to me, then
I will come to
you." This time, he didn't wait for me to argue, instead placing a clawed hand on my shoulder and guiding me forwards. "Now go, Spala. Lonne awaits you. May the winds be at your back and the rocks fall ever from your trail."
It was the last time I saw him.
I approached my little group uncertainly, wondering what I should say. Two of them I'd "met", if you could call it that, the day before. Only a couple of the scythods had really ever taken the time to speak more than a few words to me. The third member of the group, John, I knew well... but he was still so, so distant, and something about his new attitude made me reluctant to trust him.
"Are we going now?" I asked, looking at K'bahth. He and Klade were easy to tell apart: Klade was a brownish ashen-gray, and K'bahth was dark gray except for several faint greenish stripes on his legspikes. Scythods tell each other apart by smell and voices, but sight was good enough for me.
"We are," he answered solemnly. "Where will we go?"
I thought for a moment. "To the north," I said finally. "We go north. Scylk said there's a Parasol base in that direction."
K'bahth clacked his scythes. "Yes, so there is, but it is far."
I turned away from him and started walking up the side of the next hill. "It can't be too far. It's only ten miles from Spearbreakers to the mountains. The blood plains aren't that large; we've only been traveling in circles for the past year." I said this last with distaste, talking loudly over my shoulder as they began to follow. "Imagine how far we'll get if we walk in a straight line!"
~~~
We
did travel far that day, something that the scythods had never done in all the time I'd been their prisoner. They'd taken care to keep themselves concealed whenever possible, traveling among the hills and taking roundabout paths. Though the wind was against us, I led us straight northwards. I considered the choice more intelligent than an "overcautious" route.
As I soon learned, there was a reason that Scylk had always led his army with such care...
Mid-afternoon, Klade stopped us with a hiss.
"Something on the wind," he hissed. "I smell... danger."
John scoffed. "How do you 'smell danger'?" he asked skeptically in their tongue.
"Do not mock; I smell it too," K'bahth said brusquely, with a worried tone. "Make haste, we must tunnel." He began to dig at the soft earth with his scythes and claws, shoveling it away behind him.
Klade sent a distasteful hiss in my direction. "We should not have traveled so quickly, Alaf. It is Kloss Lorta that I smell," he said, and began to dig by K'bahth's side. "It is coming from downwind, so they smell us, and are very close."
Crossing his arms, John asked nervously, "Holistic Spawn? Can't we just outrun them?"
I shook my head. "Even with all their limbs severed, they can move as fast as a dwarf can sprint. They're too fast," I explained.
Frowning, John shot a sideways look at me and got to his knees to help the scythods. He seemed terrified out of his wits, and I didn't blame him. Little was as dangerous as the Spawn of Holistic.
I stood there alone, feeling helpless... feeling as if I'd led everyone into a trap. I watched as their scythes and claws sliced through the dirt, deeper and deeper.
"This won't be enough," I warned. "If it's spawn, it won't stop them!"
John spun around towards me with a glare that knocked me back a step. "Then get down here and help us!" he growled, and went back to digging, panting heavily.
"No..." I whispered. None of them heard me, and I was glad of it. I felt as if I was half insane. Thoughts raced through my mind, knowledge of stealth and camouflage, but I had no idea when I'd learned it. "If we just dig a tunnel like we do for the Ballpoint soldiers, it won't be enough," I breathed, trying to grasp at the thoughts as they whirled by. "No, we need..."
With dancing eyes, I scanned the area, searching, and my gaze came to rest on a nearby blood oak.
"I'll be right back!" I called. "Keep digging!"
I rushed over to the solitary tree and began climbing its reeking trunk. It was dead, and it looked like it had been for a while: the bark was coated in moss, fungi, and congealed blood. It was the most disgusting thing I'd seen in a while, but I ignored that as best I could, climbing to the first colossal limb and stomping on it with all my weight.
It wouldn't crack.
Thankfully, I remembered my daggers, and drew one out, looking at it in the grayish light. It'd been forever since I'd had reason to use them.
Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the branch and stabbed it, twisting left and right until I heard a loud groan. Slowly but steadily, the bark split, revealing the whitish wood beneath as gravity began to take hold. As it gained momentum, a series of loud cracks pealed through the air, and the huge branch twisted downwards, crashing against the ground ten feet below and severing itself from the tree. I jumped down lightly after it and started dragging the branch towards the ever-deepening hole. It was a lot heavier than I thought it would be, and I struggled with it, trying to get a good grip.
"What do you think you're doing?!" John half-screamed at me from the pit he was helping dig. "What good is
that going to do?"
At his tone, I felt a flicker of anger towards him. "It'll help keep us from getting killed, but I need your help!"
Muttering, John set his hands against the lip of the pit and pulled himself out and pulled himself out. Dirt flew past his shoulders as the scythods dug, and he started towards me with something akin to a death glare. "What is
this supposed to do?" he asked, flicking a hand towards the foul-smelling branch.
I tried to push his attitude out of my mind, but unsuccessfully. "If we just dig, the Spawn will still know we're there. They'll
smell us, John; they'll see the fresh-dug earth. Help me get this over there, now!" I was a little harsh, admittedly, but I was frustrated.
Muttering curses, he grabbed the other side of the branch, and slowly, we began making progress towards the hole. "We'll need to break it up when we get there and set it on fire. K'bahth has some flint and tinder in his pack, so he can take care of it."
"It'll suck all the air out of our hole," John said critically, shaking his head. "It won't work. We'll suffocate even if they don't find us."
"The burning part doesn't have to be on top of the entrance," I pointed out, and then turned to him again. "Why are you acting like this, John?" I asked softly, frowning. "What's happened to you? Why have you changed?"
He didn't respond, or even acknowledge that I'd spoken. He only continued to drag his side of the branch, as I struggled with mine.
"You've been like this ever since you told me the story about your past..." I went on, guessing at the source. "I don't hold any of it against you, you know..."
He hesitated for a moment, readjusting his grip on the fallen limb to buy himself time. "I hold it against myself," he muttered. "Spearbreakers is going to be destroyed, the scythod will be wiped out, and Parasol will be gone. After that, everyone else on Everoc will die. Nothing can be done about it, and I used to be
part of the reason they'll fall." He halted his pace and looked at me. "Isn't that enough to make me bitter?"
I felt mixed feelings towards what he'd told me, and I felt my lips twisting into a frown. "It's not enough to make you bitter towards
me," I said quietly, glancing at him through narrowed eyes as I continued to tug at the blood oak's rotting wood.
~~~
I lay in the tiny tunnel, hardly daring to breathe, praying silently to the gods for our safety. Above and to my left, between the crossed rotting branches, the smoke from our fire blurred my view of the cloud-strewn sky. Klade, K'bahth and John lay noiselessly beside me, and we waited.
We'd heard their blood lusting screams as they'd approached. They
knew we knew. They hadn't bothered trying to sneak up on us.
Another screech echoed through the tunnel, a blood-curdling cry I knew all too well from my prison days. As John and I watched, two of them came into view. I'd seen Spawn before, but the look of horror on John's face showed very clearly that he'd never gotten so close a look. They were hideous; their charred and shriveled flesh clung tightly to their bones. Their ribcages were split open as if on hinges, with rows of sharp teeth down the gash in their chest, opening and closing as what body fluids they had left trickled down them like saliva. Their transformation had stretched their arms and legs to unnatural lengths, with huge, sharp claws in place of their hands... Their bloodshot eyes seemed to bear a deathless gaze, but you could still see signs that they had once been dwarves. One's beard was braided down the sides, and the other sported long sideburns. Even so, I found it difficult to feel sorry for them while looking at what they'd become...
They walked around our branches, sniffing loudly at them. One of them walked too close to the flames and I saw them lick across its chest, but the murderous creature didn't even flinch. They seemed to speak to each other through quiet shrieks, almost like the squeals of pigs. They didn't seem to be able to smell us, with the awful stench of the burning blood oak all around, but I was still sweating with fear.
Without warning, one let out a screech so loud that it startled me, and together, they left, heading towards the north, galloping forwards with their long arms.
"They left," John whispered, wide-eyed. "That was... gods, that was
awful."
I nodded. "We should stay here for the night, to let them get as far away from us as possible."
"I agree with Spala," Klade chattered sullenly. "It is wiser to remain here."
I hadn't expected that from him. "Thank you, Klade," I said softly. He didn't respond, but from then on, I felt a little safer around him.
The night passed slowly, and with the foul smell from the rotting blood oak, it was difficult to sleep. Sometimes I thought I heard the faint sounds of someone screaming distantly, but I couldn't be sure. It bit at my heart that someone might have died because we hid instead of fought, but what were we to do? Except for my daggers, we were weaponless, and they're worthless against Holistic Spawn.
The next morning, we all got up, ate breakfast, and set off again towards the north. It was quiet - nobody really seemed to care to talk, until finally, K'bahth spoke up.
"Last night, I heard a human screaming to the north," he clicked quietly. He seemed torn between whether or not he should relish the thought.
Klade's feelings weren't so mixed. "As did I, and I am glad," he hissed. "If the Kloss Lorta killed humans because they couldn't find us, then we did well."
"Don't say things like that," I said. "Not all humans belong to Ballpoint, and there are plenty of good humans out there that do, or used to." I caught John's eye; he gave me a nod of acknowledgement. It made me smile with hope.
The farther we walked, the more we were sure that we were approaching civilization.
"I smell humans on the wind," K'bahth said thoughtfully, waving a foreleg about. "They are close."
"Is it Parasol?" John asked.
Klade scoffed in return. "How are we to know? You all smell alike,
human."
I glanced across the plains, shielding my eyes from the rising sun on my right. Far to the north, I could just barely make out a line of trees, their bare limbs unstained by blood. "We're close to the end of the blood plains; I can see the end," I told my companions.
"We should travel east now," K'bahth replied quickly. "The foothills of the Amber Barb are before us."
"Wait," I said. "I think I see something." I thought I could make out a few tents nestled among the trees. "I wish I had binoculars," I whispered.
"Aren't you an elf?" John asked. "Isn't your eyesight better than mine?"
"It's not as good as you'd think," I admitted, and continued peering northwards. "I can see tents... There are a couple people moving among them." I stopped and looked back for a second at John. "How many leagues do you think we traveled yesterday?"
"At least fifteen," the man replied. "There still shouldn't be any settlements close by."
A scream rang out in the distance. There was no denying it this time.
"They need help!" I said, turning to the scythods. "We need to help them."
"Are you mad?" Klade hissed, twisting his mouth towards me. "We lack supplies or medicine. They are humans. Let them overcome their problems on their own."
"We're going towards a Parasol base," I replied curtly, turning and starting north at a brisk pace. "They have medicine there, and better medicine than anyone native to Everoc has."
John jogged to catch up with me and grabbed my arm. "Vanya, we can't let them know about the timewar. If they see the scythods..."
I looked down at his hand. "It won't be long before they all know anyway, John. You said so yourself."
It was good enough for him, and he let go, matching his pace with mine. K'bahth and Klade soon caught up with us, their spikes thudding into the ground. I glanced back at them for a moment.
I only hope the scythods don't scare them to death, I thought with a smile.
☆
Poll
55 (71.4%)
Author
Topic: [34.11] Spearbreakers - It shudders and begins to move (Read 2277870 times)