“And in the halls of plague, the dead will eat the dead.”
Veegem Polgis, 2nd Prophet of the Cult of Purgus
At some point, I had managed to wander to where Maarken waited. He had gathered the corpses of our companions around the dead ogre. Most of them had been looted, whether by their assailants or by Maarken.
Moments ago, I had been happy riding my new zombie. But now I was beginning to see Maarken’s side. I saw twisted limbs and skulls opened and hollowed. There were faces split nearly in half, legs removed where their chainmail ended.
My fellow goblins were there too, blue-green blood drying on their official's uniforms. I was seeing people who were no longer people.
Maarken stood over the ogre. Her helmet had been removed, revealing the caved-in side of her skull where the log trap had swung into her. Her temple was just a pit where hair and brain matter mingled, churning my stomach.
Other than that, I could see features I remembered, the powerful ridge of bone over her eyes, scarred lips that still smiled readily. I had worked this route with her a few times, and we had shared that odd camaraderie that ogres and goblins often feel. Both considered less than human, tools for the government to use, but also granted special treatment for it. But looking at her now, enormous body spread out across half the road, I wondered what she would think seeing this scene.
She had been a Bonegrinder; an ogre specialized in the slaughter of other humans. I had seen her execute a mercenary once, a young man who had fallen asleep on guard duty. She hadn't waited for an explanation. She simply wrapped a single massive palm around his face and twisted his head off like I had seen farmers do to chickens.
How many others had she killed? How many people did the mercenaries around her collectively kill? I looked at Maarken, his stony face, the Hammer at his hip. How many people had he killed? Or Esen? And if I stayed with them, would I have to kill too?
"You're here." Maarken said, and said no more.
"I don’t want to be.” I hovered on the edge of this field of corpses.
"Neither do I." Maarken stepped away from the bodies, striding over and between them till he was by my side. He sat next to me, still taller even sitting down.
“I don’t want to kill them again. I helped raise Hugred because I didn't like him being dead." I leaned to rest my head on his arm. He grunted but didn't push me away.
"I don't expect you to. Just help me stay awake." Maarken pulled his hammer from its sheath and laid it across his lap.
“Oh. I can do that.” I said. “Have you done a lot of vigils? I’ve only done one.”
Maarken didn’t answer for a moment and I thought he might already be nodding off, so I prodded him with my claw. He huffed and flicked my ear in return.
“Two. But one was as a child. My younger sister died and I held vigil with my parents and my older brother. It meant nothing then. I was too young to understand.” His expression grew darker. “But then just a year ago, we had an outbreak of ash fever. Entire villages collapsed, and ghouls wandered the land. When my parents died, I failed in my vigil and ghouls took their bodies.”
“Your brother wasn’t there?” I asked.
“He was in the army. Still is, I think. I left my town and haven’t been back in a year.” Maarken looked down at me and saw how I was looking at him. “I wasn’t banished. I simply left.”
“And this money has something to do with that. Is it blood money to pay for your mistake?”
“I considered it, but with this much, I can do better. I can buy better armor, a better weapon. I could even hire followers. We will clear out the ghoul holds village by village, until all are purged or I fall in battle.” I didn’t like the pleasure in his voice. To relish the thought of killing anyone when we were surrounded by the horror of death disturbed me.
I guess ghouls weren’t people, but I still shuddered when I looked out at the corpses lying in the undergrowth. I wondered if ghouls looked just like that, but moving. Glazed over eyes, slack jaws. Maybe I would be okay with putting them to rest.
“Well then let’s figure out where to sell our silver. Esen can catch up in the morning. She doesn’t know anything about Gurngamos anyway.” I suggested.
“A fair point. Definitely not a mining town. Too many bonegrinders keeping an eye on things.” Maarken said.
“Let me work something out.” I crouched in the dirt, finding a spot without ferns and shrubs. With a claw, I quickly sketched out a rough map of our corner of Gurngamos. I got flashbacks to my Imperial Academy education. I had memorized every province and its capital, and then been assigned to one single route to monitor. It was nice when I actually got to use what I had learned.
When I was done, I realized that perhaps I had gotten a touch carried away. I had represented the northern mountains with pebbles, which made sense, but I had then bothered to draw out the entire East of Gurngamos that we were nowhere near and even spit on the ground to represent the western ocean. Well, nobody could accuse me of not being thorough.
“We have a few options. If we go into a neighboring province, we could try their capitals. If we do that, I recommend we go east. Gindar, to the west, shares a border with Eiselk, so it’s got a lot more soldiers and people who report directly to the Emperor.”
“Hm. But they might also be willing to reward us for extra funds. Border provinces always enjoy the security of wealth.” Maarken said.
“True. We’ll keep Gindar in mind. And if we start going that direction, maybe we could even consider Eiselk itself." I pointed to the far western portion of the map, past the borders of Gurngamos.
"No… better to stay in Gurngamos. Centaurs are beastfolk just like the ones who ambushed us. They are hardly to be trusted."
"Aw. Okay." I had wanted to show off my skills in speaking the language of Eiselk. It had clicks! "Then I guess you wouldn't like my other idea either."
"Don’t pout. Tell me and I can at least consider it.” Maarken frowned down at me.
“Okay, so I thought of this when they were attacking. It’s not actually normal for beastfolk raiders to take all the valuables when they destroy a caravan. Normally, they leave the silver as bait for us, then pick off as many people as they can. But they went out of their way to take every wagon. Also, they had a whole lot of metal weapons and armor. Most beastfolk don’t really have access to steel, you know. They mostly live in small villages without the resources for big furnaces. So I put it together and well, I think that they’re spending what they steal from us, trading it with somebody else. If somebody is giving them steel weapons and armor, perhaps we can trade with those same people.”
“You’re right. And it would have to be close. But how would we find it?” Maarken scanned my map for answers it didn’t have. Thankfully, those answers lay with me.
I reached within for the power running through my veins. I am fae, and magic is my nature. The space around my body rippled as bit by bit I edited myself in the eyes of the world.
Gone was my deep blue uniform, replaced by a tight mottled green and brown outfit. My green skin changed to a more human tone, pasty off-white with tints of brown and red. It took me a moment to remember to add an extra phantom finger on each hand, and another to add the fingerless gloves I had seen squirrelfolk wearing.
When I was done, I was indistinguishable from a somewhat stunted squirrel man, complete with ruddy hair on the backs of my hands and flowing in a short mane down my back. As yes, and a tail. I couldn’t forget the tail. Fur flowed and bent until I had a short, curled-up tail pressed against my back.
“We’re simply going to ask them.” I smiled, showing off my new incisors.
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