Born a Monster

Chapter 473



The walls of Narrow Valley stood proud and strong, and in most places... intact.

[Under 2% damage.] my Reticule informed me.

It took longer to reply with [1580/1600 Condition (mending), Ward at 1360/2560 points (rapid regeneration)]. Cripes, how did walls ever fall? Well, it explained a lot about sieges, and why they took so long.

Just beyond arrow range, a series of broken siege engines and temporary wooden walls testified to the earlier battle. Beyond what the defenders could pelt with siege, more permanent structures were under construction.

It was the wood yards that threatened to cause me spiritual damage. They were just set up WRONG; absolutely wrong. As in, producing half as much as they should, with criss-crossed lines of walking wrong. And the reason why became apparent without much looking. Humans, most of them in farmlands or Whitehill clothing, were doing most of the labor.

Slaves.

Not that I had anything in theory wrong with slaves; in a way of thinking I was myself a slave. And that slavery had led me to indentured servitude (slavery) in the enemy army. But when they were just used wrong, simply for the purpose of making them suffer? That was too personal for me.

“Corporal Drikt,” I said, “those woodlots are organized all wrong.”

.....

“Private Omnifex,” she replied, “I will remind you that is outside of your field of responsibility.”

“But...”

“I still have a knife.” Tigrin offered.

“Has he gotten anyone killed?” Drikt asked.

“Patience and discipline guide my dagger, corporal.” He looked at me. “And faith. I remember now where I’ve heard of eyes like yours.”

I sighed, rolled back my left sleeve.

“Rhishisikk the Unholy has eyes like yours, of solid black.”

I raised my hand. “Tell me how many scales there are upon my body.” I said. “How many do you see?”

“That doesn’t change your eyes!” Tigrin said.

“And you, Tigrin? Do you align yourself with people of orange eyes?”

“They are fire red,” he said, “and what fool picks their friends by their eye color?”

“What fool picks their enemies by eye color?” I asked.

“There is more than eye color between us, kjetter.”

“That word,” I said, “is from the Norvik.”

“And you know what it means?” Tigrin asked.

I yawned, as we came to a halt again. “I seem to remember that word, yes.”

Oh, I wanted to say more. I both could have, and should have. But I didn’t. Honestly, I was getting tired of being picked on, but I was serving as the token human. Besides, I told myself that if things got that bad, I had half a stack of wooden shields and my own pair of knives.

The sun was setting as we finally presented our military papers to the guards, who tried to keep Siegen’s. I don’t want to waste a chapter on it; she used some un-Siegen-like words and gestures and especially volume. She would, I thought, have made a good sergeant.

“Why are all the Kamajeen gathered in the east?” I asked.

“Do you want to worry about a bunch of people who wear towels on their heads, or do you want to help get the tent we need to sleep in up?” Drikt asked.

“Someone should gather food.” Ayya said.

“Shelter first.” Drikt said, “Then food. It looks like rain again, tonight.”

That resulted in some grumbling, but we moved with a purpose, nonetheless. While we got the tent up, Drikt located both the food and basic directions to the nearest main quartermaster tent.

“Okay, so while I track them down with our list of needs, get the carts unloaded. The less time those supplies remain in the open, the better chance we have of keeping them secured. And remember, the first shipment from home hits our new northern border this week. Supplies to the CENTER of the tent. Cots to the outside.”

“What about using the supplies to hide us from the view of assassins?” Siegen asked.

Denson rubbed his jaw. “Don’t remember many people dead from assassins at the last city.”

“What Denson said.” Drikt nodded. “The locals don’t seem to understand how to wage an effective resistance, and the supply lines don’t seem to be a target.”

Wait... Wasn’t I supposed to be sabotaging those supply lines, instead of working for them?

Still, if I could get word of the bigger supply caravans to Uma somehow... No, that was a dream.

A dream. I was an idiot.

By the time the supplies were loaded into the tent, the clouds had darkened again; it was definitely going to rain that night.

Although the cooks were done for the day, they had left out the pots.

“This food is greasy.” said Mohgson.

“And cold. And the good bits of meat seem to have already been eaten.” added Ayya.

“The crust is dry, but the bread inside seems edible.” Siegen said.

“It’s the corporal’s fault.” Tigrin said. “She could have given us orders to rotate through the meal line.”

“Pale worm? It’s your turn to insult the food.” Denson said.

I hastily finished chewing and swallowed. “The portions seem small.” I said.

“Like trying to teach a changeling!” Tigrin spat.

“Come on.” Denson said. “We know humans tend to be stupider than we are, Loki be Praised.”

Tigrin wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “I think maybe we need more leather for whips. If that,” he pointed at me, “is the average intelligence of those here, small wonder that a dozen minotaurs were able to assert control.”

“It was not so simply done as that.” I said. “If you want to know...”

“We don’t.” said Ayya. “Instead of doing the smart thing, and beating the humans down, they let them serve as soldiers. As citizens.”

Mohgson chuckled. “Slower than if we had a volcano. But in the end, bonfires will do, and we can re-use the chains.”

“Chains?” I asked. “You’re going to burn the humans?

“Need to put this useless wood to use doing something.” Denson said. “Might as well be getting rid of the worst the humans have to offer.”

“Like you,” Tigrin said to me, “if you weren’t a GENUINE convert to the true faith.”

“Faith through fear never lasts.” I said. “Even the dragons fell from rule.”

“That’s like... dangerous talk.” Mohgson said.

“Trusting. Too trusting.” Siegen said.

Tigrin squinted at me, finally saying, “You were warned.”

But, unlike their uruk and goblin cousins, hobgoblins evolved in the daylight, and tended to sleep when the sun vanished from the sky.

[Lucid dreaming achieved.]

I found myself on a dark and desolate hillside, in a runnel that twisted and turned, breaking off into other runnels. Like a maze; of course it was.

said a rock.

I asked it.

[Title is now: Truthspeaker.]

[You have 5/6 Dream mana.]

[You have 3/3 Shadow mana.]

And I continued, foolishly using the left-hand rule. Because dream logic, that doesn’t always work in dreams made of fear and dwindling hope.

And then, there was an echo, of sorts. It was a voice made out of cold and loneliness, of shadow and blood and pain. A whisper of a voice, because it hadn’t ever needed to scream to be heard.

Even as I hurled the tiny sun into the air, Boil Boil activated. Above me, the newborn sun screamed its outrage, and began tearing itself apart, flaming detrius never falling far from me.

I moved along a bit.

“Well, and well again.” came a silky voice from behind me. “Let’s have a look at you, fresh meat.”

I sighed, blinked my eyes. “You aren’t back there. It’s far too bright. Will you show yourself, or shall I cause my shadow to become light next?”

A ribbon of darkness fell from above and in front of me, just hanging there as though suspended by clothespins. It didn’t grow or open as it spoke; it just WAS open, and speaking, skipping the majority of the movement.

“You, sir, are a curiosity. Don’t you fear me?”

“I am familiar with spirits of both darkness and nightmare.” I said. “Depart from the Lady Uma’s dreams, and I’ll let you do so in peace.”

“Oh, Rhishi the Fishy,” he said, “Do you think I live here and know nothing of you? This is my realm; I am the titan, here.”

I drew forth the Jaws of Rage. “You certainly do have a big mouth.” I said.

“Is that supposed to be scaring me? That tiny thing?”

.....

“No.” I said. “You’re supposed to underestimate it.”

“Well,” he said, “console yourself that the last thing you attempted before you died, you succeeded.”

And then, the time for talking was past.


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