by Virlyce
“What are we betting?” Lord Briffault asked and raised an eyebrow.
“Soldiers!” Sir Edward said and nodded. “We’ll bet with your soldiers. If I win, I get to keep a hundred of your soldiers. If I lose, a hundred of your soldiers get to go through the gate.”
Lord Briffault furrowed his brow. “Now hold on just a second,” he said. “Didn’t you say we had to defeat you to proceed? Doesn’t that mean all of us get to go through? And my soldier here”—he patted Ralph’s shoulder—“already defeated you plenty of times. You can’t keep changing the terms of entry.”
Sir Edward rubbed his chin before sighing. “You’re right,” he said. “As a noble, I can’t keep changing my words. How about alcohol? Do you have any alcohol? If I defeat you, you give me a drink.”
“We … don’t have any food or drink,” Lord Briffault said.
Sir Edward’s eyes bulged, and he pointed his sword at Lord Briffault. “You’re conducting a siege without food or drink? Are you daft? Next, you’ll be telling me you didn’t bring tents for shelter or extra clothes to endure the harsh nights.”
Lord Briffault cleared his throat. “Well, we weren’t expecting such a long, drawn-out campaign. We thought it’d be over before the sun set.”
“How foolish,” Sir Edward said and shook his head. “The youth of today … ah. Come, let me treat you all to a nice meal and drink.”
“While I appreciate the offer,” Lord Briffault said, “we’re already dead and have no need for either of those. Shelter from the cold isn’t necessary either.”
“That’s no way to live!” Sir Edward said. “Just because you’re dead, you can no longer enjoy the joys of life? What kind of nonsense is that? Let me tell you, my friend. You and I, we’re alive. Right now, in this very moment, we’re alive. We’re talking to one another, seeing one another, communicating with facial and bodily expressions. Tell me, can the dead do that, good sir?” He shook his head before Lord Briffault could answer. “I’ll tell you—they can’t! How long has it been since you’ve had a warm meal in your stomach? How long has it been since you’ve had ale bubbling down your throat?”
Lord Briffault swallowed his saliva, and though it was faint, he swore he heard his companions doing the same. He turned around and swept his gaze over his men. “What do you think? Shall we take a short break? While Zyocuh’s out there having the time of his life, we’re in here forced to do his bidding. Taking a short break doesn’t go against any of our orders.” His men nodded in agreement, and he turned back around. “Alright. But do you have enough to feed us all?”
“Of course, of course,” Sir Edward said and nodded, clapping his hand on Lord Briffault’s shoulder. “It’ll take some time to prepare. Say, about as long as it’d take a mutant dragon to defeat a chimera queen. That’s no problem, right?”
Lord Briffault raised an eyebrow. “Is that a standard measure of time around here?”
***
Stella hovered over a deep pit with burn marks and gouges decorating its sides. A black dragon with four wings and a bladed tail lay on its stomach atop a lump of squishy, red material. His scaled hide was covered in wounds: long gashes and bite marks that exposed bone underneath. Munching sounds filled the air as he chewed on something red, slurping the sinewy strands down like noodles. His eyes rolled up and stared at Stella before he lifted one paw in greeting.
“Chompy,” Stella said and waved. “I knew you’d win. Come on, you can eat that thing later; there’s an army outside that needs to be devastated.”
Chompy blinked and looked down at the chimera queen corpse underneath himself. Then he looked back up at Stella. He roared and shook his head before biting into the chimera queen again. Strands of flesh were pulled out and sucked into his mouth where he resumed his lazy chewing like a ruminating cow. He ignored the fairy buzzing around his head and swallowed. His wounds wriggled, and a few of the bone-deep scratches squirmed as they stitched themselves back together.
“Oh, I get it,” Stella said. “You’re healing yourself. Okay, that’s great, but there’s still a massive army outside that’s going to break in to try to kill you. Take your time.”
Chompy raised his head and narrowed his eyes at Stella before letting out a low roar. Then he went back to eating the chimera queen at a slower pace, sniffing and picking at portions of the queen’s body with his claws before finding a spot to bite down. Stella’s expression darkened when she saw Chompy’s deliberate act of rebellion, and she stamped her foot in the air. “Chompy! People are invading our home!”
Chompy snorted as if to say he could take care of any problems at any time. Even after a nap. He let out a giant yawn that nearly caused the fairy queen to fall out of the air due to its suction. Then he curled up into a ball and closed his eyes. He opened his mouth and bit down on the chimera queen without chewing, sucking on it as if it were a straw.
“Huh!? You’re tired, huh!?” Stella threw her arms up into the air before flying onto Chompy’s head. She jumped up and down, but the dragon ignored her, consuming the chimera queen a little bit at a time, savoring his victory. “Is that it? You’re tired? Well, when that army comes in and kills you, you can sleep forever after you die!”
Chompy smacked his lips and licked them before exhaling out a sigh. He rolled over onto his back, causing Stella to scream as she was nearly crushed by his head, and splayed his limbs. With his front right claw, he tore off a chunk of the chimera queen as if he were grabbing an apple off a tree and placed it into his mouth.
Stella bit her lower lip and landed on Chompy’s chest. “Chompy, I’m begging you,” she said with teary eyes. “Please. This is my home. This is your home too. No one likes it when uninvited guests come over unless they’re selling cookies. But these people aren’t selling cookies, Chompy. They’re selling death and murder. They almost killed Sheryl!”
One of Chompy’s eyes creaked open.
Stella raised her head, saw that Chompy was staring at her, and lowered her head again before sobbing. “Chompy, I’m scared, Chompy. I don’t want to die. They’re going to tear the castle down and find my birthflower and burn it. Please, Chompy. You’re a good boy, right? Won’t you be a good boy and help me?”
Stella sank down as Chompy blew out a long breath, his stomach and chest contracting. Both his eyes opened, and he lifted his head. He stared down at Stella with large, round eyes before pointing at his snout. Stella’s eyes lit up, and she flew up to his face, hugging the scales between his nostrils. She petted his head and rubbed her face on him. “Thank you, Chompy. You’re the best! I promise I’ll give you lots of pets and scratches after this is all over. The army has a few million men, and all of them have classes. Do you think you can take them? Deedee and Mistle will help you.”
Chompy scoffed and rolled over onto his feet. He snorted and puffed his chest out as if to say he didn’t need anyone’s help to take care of anything. He thumped his tail against the chimera queen and gestured towards it with his claw before crossing his front legs over his chest.
“Yes, yes,” Stella said and flew onto Chompy’s head. “My Chompy is amazing. He can do anything, and no one can stop him.”
***
“What’s this?” Grimmy asked once he landed in the destroyed palace where Vur was resting. He swept his gaze over the annoying trio. “A playground?”
“Who’s that?” Bonnie whispered to Eldest while inching backwards to hide behind Sera.
“Why would I know?” Eldest whispered back. He poked Youngest with his tail. “You know lots of weird things. Who’s that?”
“I know as much as you know!” Youngest hissed. The two dragons fought to hide behind each other to avoid Grimmy’s gaze before settling on escaping behind Vernon.
“This is … a bad influence,” Vernon said and cleared his throat. “Whenever he speaks, cover your ears.”
Grimmy raised an eyebrow. “Are those Sera’s illegitimate children?”
Vernon rolled his eyes and gestured towards th
e black dragon with his paw. “See? Bad influence. These kids are Sera’s sister’s children, Vur’s cousins.”
Lindyss slid off of Grimmy’s head and landed on the ground with a thump. Tafel ran up to her and gave her a quick hug before pulling on her arm, leading her to Vur. Mary sat in a corner next to a bloody lump that was letting out labored breaths, watching the proceedings with wide eyes. Her armor that could be taken off had been stripped, and her sword was nowhere to be seen.
“This is what happens when you get involved with those two.”
Mary raised her head towards the voice. Alice was standing over her, a glass of water in her hands. “What do you mean?” Mary asked and tilted her head.
“I mean exactly what I said,” Alice said with a snort. “They come into your life, turn it upside down, give it a good shake, and place it back onto the table sideways.” Her gaze slipped down towards Zyocuh. “But, sometimes, that’s a good thing. Do you know what he did to Vur? The dragons might see you in a favorable light if you help him out.”
Mary pursed her lips. “I’m too dumb to learn magic.” She lowered her head and stared at her empty hands. “All I can do is swing a sword.”
“Do you know what spell that thing”—Sera glared at Zyocuh and resisted the urge to set what remained of him on fire—“cast on Vur?” The sky-blue dragon turned back towards Grimmy and blinked at him with an expression that wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Grimmy didn’t respond as he flipped Vur over with the tip of his claw. He traced the symbols that Zyocuh had drawn and nodded. “I see, I see. This is simple, really.”
“Can you cure him?” Tafel asked.
Grimmy tilted his head. “Don’t you want to know what it is first?”
Tafel pursed her lips. “That doesn’t really matter as long as he gets better,” she said and shook her head. “So, can you fix him?”
“I would like to know what it is,” Sera said and nudged Tafel aside. Then she glared at Zyocuh again. “I have to choose a punishment befitting the crime. Whether I should crush it, chew it up, or tear it apart depends on what it did.”
Tafel tilted her head. “Is there a difference between the three? I mean, I get that they’re supposed to be getting progressively worse, but which one is the worst one to get?”
“Torn apart,” Alora said. “Definitely torn apart. Things scream the most when you tear them apart.” Tafel stared at Alora with an unreadable expression. The polymorphed dragon scratched her neck and looked away. “I’m just saying. And you’re the one who asked.”
“This spell,” Grimmy said, ignoring Tafel and Alora, “is something unoriginal folks use to achieve pseudo-immortality. Since they don’t know how to preserve their own bodies, they figure they’ll just take someone else’s before they die. Currently, Vur’s in the process of having his soul eroded away.”
Sera’s eyes widened, and she thumped Zyocuh with her tail, sweeping him back and forth along the ground. “Can you cure him?” she asked, ignoring Mary’s attempts at retrieving her uncle.
Grimmy cleared his throat. “Maybe?”
“Maybe? What do you mean maybe?” Tafel asked. “Can you do it or not?”
Grimmy lowered his head and puffed smoke out of his nostrils at Tafel, causing her hair to fly parallel to the ground. “When did you get so brave, squirt?”
“I noticed that too,” Sera said and nodded. “Whenever it comes to Vur, she stops trembling and grows a spine. I approve.”
Tafel placed her hands on her hips. “I’m brave all the time, okay?” Her knees shook, but she tensed her leg muscles to force them to stay still. “Can you stop Vur’s soul from being eroded? I really like him with his soul intact. That’s not to say I would leave him if he lost his soul, but it’d be really, really nice if he didn’t.”
Sera turned towards Grimmy. “Can you?”
Grimmy shrugged. “You know the phrases fight poison with poison, and fight fire with fire? This is the same concept,” he said. “To stop this foreign soul from invading, we’ll send in our own foreign souls.”
A wrinkle appeared on Tafel’s forehead. “And how do you know that soul is going to stop the invaders and not erode Vur’s soul further?”
“Oh, that’s simple,” Grimmy said. “We send in a soul familiar with Vur or antagonistic with the invaders.”
“A familiar soul?” Tafel raised an eyebrow.
“Right.” Grimmy nodded and swept his gaze over the people in the room. “Any volunteers?”
“This is safe, right?” Tafel asked. “Once we help Vur, we can easily get out?”
“Nope,” Grimmy said. “Once your soul leaves your body, you die.”
“What?” Tafel pointed at Zyocuh. “How come he’s not dead if that’s the case?”
Grimmy shrugged. “Exception to the rule. You know how those exist.”
The group exchanged glances with each other. Tafel swallowed and stepped forward. “I, I’ll do it,” she said. “You can send my soul inside of Vur.” She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. “Make it painless, please,” she murmured and clenched her hands.
Grimmy reached forward with his claw and placed the tip against Tafel’s forehead. He withdrew his paw by an inch, and then he flicked her. Tafel shrieked as she fell over onto her back and clutched her forehead. She wriggled on the ground, rolling back and forth from side to side before suddenly coming to a halt. Her eyes opened, and she looked up. “Is it…, is it done? Am I dead?”
Grimmy grinned at Tafel and patted her head. “I was just joking when I asked for volunteers.”
“Just … joking?”
“Yup.” Grimmy nodded. “Hilarious, right?” He ignored Tafel’s contorting face and turned his attention onto Vur. “Let’s see how far this erosion’s progressed.” Grimmy tapped Vur’s bellybutton with his claw and lifted. A layer of black and red light extended from his claw to Vur’s stomach. A fourth of the light was black while the remainder was red. “Hmm.”
“How is it?” Tafel asked. “It looks like the red bit is eating away at the black one. That means Vur’s winning, right?”
Grimmy shook his head. “No. Vur’s soul is the black portion. He’s losing.”
Tafel furrowed her brow. “What? Why is Vur’s soul black?”
Lindyss cleared her throat from off to the side before gazing at Grimmy. No one noticed her except for the black dragon. Grimmy shrugged. “Eh, who knows? The color of one’s soul doesn’t mean much. Besides, that’s not the important part. What’s important is the fact that Vur’s losing and needs some help.”
“Wait,” Tafel said and pointed at the strand of light. “That golden bit blocking the red, what is it?”
Grimmy raised an eyebrow before leaning close and squinting at the strand. “Oh, that’s probably, uh, some sort of false god. You know Vur was blessed by the temple a little before your reunion from way back when?”
Tafel nodded. “You said you didn’t need volunteers? Then how are you going to help him?”
“Well, I don’t need volunteers because I already have plenty of souls,” Grimmy said. His eyes lit up. “You’re his wife. What kind of soul do you think he’d like?” He reached behind his wing and pulled out dozens of glowing orbs that seemed more gaseous than solid.
“…Why do you have these?”
“I don’t know.” Grimmy rolled his eyes. “Why do people collect coins? Why do people collect stamps? So, which one?”
***
Ralph swallowed back his saliva and prodded the food on his plate with the fork he had been given. The soldiers were sitting in neat rows with their legs crossed, and Sir Edward was pushing a cart filled with food, giving each soldier a choice of dinner, dessert, and drink. The warmth coming off of the meal and into his lap caused a shiver to run down Ralph’s spine. How long had it been since he had last eaten a plate of hot mashed potatoes and chicken? Actually, how long had it been since he had eaten anything?
“I have a question,” one of the soldiers near Ralph said
and raised his hand at Sir Edward.
Sir Edward raised an eyebrow and turned towards the man, whose plate was already empty. “Yes? What is it?”
“How do you have enough food to feed all of us? What are you even feeding us?” the soldier asked. “We haven’t seen any farms or any wildlife to hunt on our way here. How is it possible for you to provide this much food?”
Sir Edward laughed. “Oh, that? We get the souls of whatever foods our host eats. If our host eats a carrot, then we’ll find a carrot in our supplies; at least, that’s what I was told when I asked about where it came from.”
“I see.” The soldier furrowed his brow and stared at his empty plate. He smiled and relaxed before bringing the plate up to his face and licking it clean.
Ralph swallowed his saliva again and turned his gaze away from his companion and onto his plate. He used his knife and fork to cut off a piece of mystery meat and placed it into his mouth. If he was eating something that the host already ate, was he eating something that was intact or digested? It seemed pretty solid. And it tasted like chicken but springier. Well, it didn’t matter. Food was food and it’d be a waste not to eat it. There was just one thing. “Sir Edward,” Ralph said through mouthfuls, “I have a question too.”
“Ask away, lad,” Sir Edward said and straightened his back after passing a man a plate.
“Assuming the souls of food can only be consumed once, how is it possible to feed an army of a million of us?” Ralph gestured around with his head. “Are you saying the host we’ve invaded has eaten over a million dinners? There aren’t even close to that many days in a hundred years.”
Sir Edward sighed. “Would you like to know a secret, lad?”
Ralph wet his lips with his tongue and nodded.
“I … entered this host because he ate me.” Sir Edward sighed and stared up at the sky. “The host is a very hungry man.”