Scions of Nexus

by Gregory Mattix

  He grunted in response. “Thanks, lad.”

  “I’m no boy, just so you know.” Ferret glared at him with annoyance before tossing the arrow aside.

  Looking closer, Creel could see how he’d been mistaken. The short, boyish haircut, dirt-streaked face, and soiled, baggy tunic and breeches had made him assume Ferret was a boy. He saw now she was a girl, her age perhaps anywhere from thirteen to seventeen summers, he guessed. She had the malnourished look of a street urchin.

  “Apologies, lass. My senses are a bit disoriented is all. It’s been a bloody rough couple of days.” He tried to gauge his surroundings to determine the way back to Ammon Nor. Putting the fading smudge of sunlight on the horizon to his left, he faced north and prepared for the long walk back to town.

  “Ferret, who the shite is that?” Ferret’s companion stood a dozen paces away, watching them warily.

  “Some tough bastard that didn’t die when he shoulda,” she replied.

  “Well, leave him be, and get yer arse back to searching for coin for Mudge. I want to be away from here afore it’s too dark.”

  Ferret sighed. She glanced at Creel one last time from beneath her long bangs. She looked as if she’d speak but then shrugged and turned away, returning to her work.

  A clump of bushes rustled a few paces behind the boy, and a humanoid shape lurched out.

  Creel reached for his sword, but it was gone, lost somewhere in the mud among the corpses. “’Ware, lad!”

  The boy looked around, turning too late, just in time for the ghoul to latch its filthy claws into his back. He squealed in pain and terror. The ghoul tore into him with its teeth, ripping chunks of flesh from the boy’s back and neck. It bore him to the ground, screaming. Several more ghouls approached in the twilight, loping toward them with surprising speed.

  Creel’s eyes darted around, finally finding a notched sword on the ground—not the one he’d carried into battle, but it would do. He snatched it up just as the first ghouls were charging him.

  “Run, lass!” He didn’t look to see if Ferret obeyed, stepping forward to meet the first ghoul.

  Its eyes bulged from its head, long purple tongue lolling out of a mouth filled with needle-sharp teeth. Its flesh looked to be rotting off, similar to a zombie, yet he knew ghouls retained a feral intelligence and were quicker and deadlier.

  Its filthy black claws slashed at him, but Creel sidestepped, striking its head from its neck with a quick slash of his sword. The creature took two more steps forward and fell in its tracks.

  The second ghoul sprang with uncanny speed, trying to bear Creel to the ground where its teeth and claws could be put to best effect. He dropped to the ground and, as it leaped over him, brought his sword around in an arc and cleaved open its belly. It landed, staggering, and the stinking ropes of its entrails spilled out. He drove the sword through its chest to finish it.

  “Behind you!”

  Creel yanked on the sword, but it had lodged in the sternum, which cost him an extra second to wrench it free. By that time, claws were slashing his back, and he could smell rotting meat on the ghoul’s putrid breath. He drove his elbow into the ghoul’s face, rocking its head back, and tore free from its claws, which he knew from experience contained a poison that could incapacitate its victims.

  Wonder how well I’d regenerate from pieces inside a ghoul’s belly, he thought drolly.

  He could feel the poison burning in his back already as he turned to face it. Need to make this quick.

  A flash of silver came from off to his right, and a small knife lodged in the side of the ghoul’s skull. It staggered momentarily, shook its head as if it were a brawler recovering from a powerful haymaker, then resumed its attack.

  The ghoul snapped at Creel’s face, but he brought the sword up. Teeth shattered as it got a mouthful of steel. He hacked off its jaw then split its skull on the next stroke.

  The remaining ghoul had apparently had its fill of the boy. It spotted Ferret, who no longer had even her small knife, and charged at her. She ran but, after a few paces, stumbled over a corpse and fell.

  The ghoul moved with its great loping strides, clumsy looking yet eating up great amounts of ground. It poised for one last spring onto the fallen girl.

  Creel leaped and slammed into the ghoul’s side, hitting it midair just before it landed atop Ferret. The two of them went down in a heap, the ghoul snapping and clawing at him savagely. He recoiled at the touch of its spongy rotting flesh beneath him. He rolled free, kicking it in the jaw and knocking it back down, then drove the sword through its throat, pinning it to the ground.

  The monster twitched and snarled for a few moments before it went still. Creel hacked its head off for good measure.

  After a moment, he let out a long breath, resting hands on knees. Spasms of pain rushed through him in waves, making him dizzy when combined with the ghoul’s poison. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to sink into oblivion.

  “What were those things?” Ferret sat a couple paces away, horrified gaze locked on the monster.

  “Ghouls. Drawn by the corpses. Those fools should’ve buried or burned them, but judging from the commanders I’ve crossed paths with, they’re either incompetent or simply don’t give a damn.” Creel spat on the ground before straightening up. His head was pounding, and he felt woozy. “Are you all right, lass?” He extended a hand to help Ferret up.

  “Aye. Just twisted my ankle a tad.” She accepted his help and stood, wincing as she favored her left ankle.

  “Thanks for your aid. Good toss of that knife.” Creel walked over and removed the small knife from the slain ghoul’s skull. He wiped it off on his breeches and handed it back to her. “And here I thought that’d be better for nothing more than skewering a rat.”

  Ferret smiled at the praise and sheathed the knife in her belt. “I’ve learned to use it well enough if Mudge or one of those other bastards tries to lay their paws on me.”

  Creel smiled wearily. “Aye, I don’t doubt that. Sorry about your friend there.”

  She shrugged. “Harold wasn’t really my friend. Just another of Mudge’s boyos.”

  “Why do they call you Ferret?”

  “I chose that name myself.” She puffed up with pride.

  “That so? What about the name your parents gave you?”

  “Didn’t know my father, so my mother gave me a name I didn’t much care for. She was a whore and died of the pox six summers ago. After that, I changed my name and have been on my own since then.”

  “A survivor—I could tell from when I first saw you. This the way back to town?” He pointed to the north.

  Ferret nodded, falling into step alongside him. They walked for several minutes, Creel remembering the Ketanian forces had made a stand in the fields a few miles south of Ammon Nor.

  “What say I buy you a warm meal for your aid, Ferret?” He knew he could’ve handled the ghouls on his own, but he figured the scrawny lass could use some food in her belly as much as he could.

  She looked at him warily, but he’d already seen the way her eyes had first lit up. “Fair enough, but don’t be getting any ideas of trying to take advantage of me.”

  He laughed. “Wouldn’t dream of it. In fact, I’ll probably pass out from my wounds and the poison from that ghoul’s claws before I even finish my meal.”

  Ferret glanced at his arm. “What wounds? Who the Abyss are you, anyway?”

  The stab wound in his forearm was already healed, and the arrow wound in his back had that itching sensation that meant it was nearly mended. The poison would take a while longer to be purged from his system.

  “Dakarai Creel. Until two days ago, I was a monster hunter before I had a… disagreement with one Captain Palam. Unfortunately, that didn’t work out so well, and I spent a night in the gaol before being pressed into service in defense of the kingdom.”

  Ferret seemed to chew on that a moment. “Palam’s a pig’s arse, from what I hear.”

  Creel chuckled. “
Aye, that’s a fairly kind way of putting it.”

  “What kind of name is Dakarai Creel, anyway? That’s a strange one. Where you from?”

  “That’s a long tale. Perhaps to be told over a nice, hot meal.”

  “Huh. How ’bout I just call you Dak?” She glanced at him sideways with a mix of insolence and mischief.

  He flinched as if she’d slipped a stiletto through his ribs, but he managed to keep walking. A sideways glance at Ferret revealed the girl’s sharp eyes hadn’t missed his reaction. “I suppose if you must. Only one person’s ever called me that before… an old friend.” He steered his thoughts away from Rada to focus on the present.

  Ferret was silent for a long moment, sensing he didn’t want to discuss the matter further. She shrugged then shot him a suspicious look as a thought occurred to her. “Thought your coin purse was plucked already. How are you meaning to pay for our meals?”

  Relieved at the change of topic, Creel smiled. “I’ve still got a few coins on my person. Here’s a tip for you—check the boots next time.”

  “Reckon I’ll do that. This corpse robbing is all new to me. Wasn’t till today I started that trade.” She clearly wasn’t pleased with the change, judging from her expression.

  “Probably not a good idea to keep at it with ghouls about.”

  “Aye, except Mudge won’t like that.”

  Creel grinned at her. “Next time he tells you to do it, tell him to go ram a rusty rake up his arse—sideways.”

  The two of them had a good laugh at that. Ferret seemed to relax, and they walked in comfortable silence. It was well after dark by the time they reached Ammon Nor.

  Guards manning the palisade gate let them pass without incident, likely thinking them mere beggars or refugees by their ragged dress. He noted the streets were crowded with people—many of them obviously refugees.

  Ferret seemed to approve of his decision to go to the Disarmed Bandit. The smell of spiced potatoes when he pushed open the door was the best thing imaginable.

  “Master Creel! Oh, gods, I thought… You look…” Enna trailed off, eyes wide and mouth agape at Creel’s appearance. The common room was fairly empty as the bulk of the day’s customers had already cleared out.

  “As if I died on the battlefield?” He chuckled. “Aye, close to it. Would you be so kind as to fetch a couple plates of food for myself and my friend?”

  “Aye, ’course I will. On the house—I’ll not hear of charging you. The usual to drink?” She nodded at Ferret, who waved in reply. The two must have been acquainted with one another.

  Creel nodded, meeting the barmaid’s smile with one of his own. “And a cup of hot water.”

  She bustled into the kitchen, and Creel slumped into a chair with a groan. Ferret slid into the chair across from him.

  “Why did Enna offer you food for free?” she asked.

  “You’re a curious one, aren’t you? Too much curiosity is like to get you killed if you aren’t careful, you know?”

  Ferret shrugged. “I’m plenty careful. If I weren’t curious and hadn’t roused you, I’d likely be in a ghoul’s belly about now.”

  Creel chuckled. “Aye, reckon so. ’Tis a long story about Enna, but to make it short, I defended the lady’s honor when no one else would.”

  Ferret looked at him with raised eyebrow. “You talk strange… act strange, too. ‘Defended the lady’s honor.’ Who does that anymore?” She snorted a laugh, making Creel grin in response.

  “Aye. I reckon the world’s changed a bit since my time.”

  Enna returned with their drinks. Creel thanked her and took a big swig of the fiery spirits. He tried to muster the strength to go to his room to get his satchel of reagents, but found that a losing battle for the moment.

  “Water?” Ferret scowled at her cup. “I’ll take what he’s having.”

  “You will not, young lady,” Enna snapped.

  “This’ll put hair on your chest, lass,” Creel said. “Doubt you’d want that.”

  Ferret snorted but drank some of her water.

  Enna regarded Creel for a moment, twisting her apron in her hands. “Your gear is still in your room where you left it. I-I just wanted to thank you… I didn’t get the chance…”

  Creel waved her off. “Don’t mention it. I was shocked none of these locals stood up for you.”

  Enna sighed. “They’re all afraid about being conscripted.”

  “And your husband?”

  A smile warmed her face. “He’s well, thank the gods. Survived the battle. Reinforcements came from Llantry—the vanguard of the king’s army. Word is the Nebarans aren’t eager to test our mettle again.”

  They’re waiting for their main force to catch up, he thought but didn’t want to worry her any more. “That’s good to hear.”

  Enna went back into the kitchen to check on their food.

  A spasm of pain ripped through Creel, and he gripped the edge of the table, lowering his head so Ferret wouldn’t see.

  The sharp-eyed girl noticed anyway. “Your wounds still paining you?”

  “Aye. And the ghoul’s poison.” He stood up, wobbled, and clutched the edge of the table before his head cleared.

  “You needing something?” she asked.

  Creel sighed and sat back down. “Aye. Would you do me a favor? Fifth room on the right, second floor. Grab my satchel for me?” He fumbled in his pocket for a key, but it was gone, likely lost in the mud on the battlefield. “I, uh, can’t find—”

  “I got it.” Ferret waved him off. “Be right back.”

  He briefly wondered if she’d steal his gear and make off with it out the window. As weary and hurting as he was, he barely found the energy to care. The spirits were warming his belly nicely, and he wanted nothing more than to get drunk and collapse in his bed. He was in desperate need of a bath, but that might have to wait.

  Ferret reappeared more quickly than expected, setting his satchel on the table. “Nice sword and armor. Might want to use those next time you go into battle.”

  Creel tried to think of a witty reply, but at her sarcastic look, he simply laughed. “Aye, hopefully there won’t be a next time.” He opened the satchel, picked out a pinch each of dried nightshade, henbane, blood moss, and ginger root, then mixed them into the hot water to steep.

  Just as he finished preparing his brew, Enna brought out their food, plates heaped high with slabs of roasted goose in gravy and a mound of spiced potatoes.

  “These potatoes are the best,” Ferret mumbled around a mouthful.

  “Aye, that’s why I make it a point to stay here whenever I pass through.”

  They didn’t speak again as they polished off their plates until they were clean enough to be reused without washing. He briefly wondered where the young girl packed away all the food, for even as starved as he was, he had difficulty putting it all down.

  He sipped at his elixir, and the pain eased after a time. Enna refilled his glass of spirits more than once, perhaps thrice, he couldn’t be sure. Once his head was buzzing pleasantly, he figured he’d worked up the strength for a bath after all—then right to bed, and he planned to sleep in.

  Ferret yawned and got to her feet. “Thanks for the meal, Dak. Guess I’ll be seeing you around town.”

  “I was planning on leaving in the morn.” Creel found himself walking her to the door. “You got a place to stay?”

  “Aye, I stay with the others at Mudge’s. Well, it ain’t really his, but he and his boys took it over when the family that lived there got ran off. There’s a bunch of us stay there now, from time to time anyway.” She opened the door and walked backward while she was talking until she was jostled roughly by a couple of men.

  “Oi, watch out, you clumsy little shite!” One of the men aimed a backhand at Ferret, but she ducked out of the way with a street urchin’s swiftly learned agility, which came from years of practice in avoiding the authorities.

  She spat a curse at the man, who Creel belatedly saw wore a blue-and-whit
e uniform, dirtied and bloodied. The man’s face darkened, but before he could react, Ferret waved goodbye to Creel and turned and ran, disappearing swiftly down the alley beside the inn.

  Unfortunately for Creel, a whole group of soldiers were watching the brief altercation. Six of them were there, a few of whom he recognized.

  “Anhur’s sword, ain’t that—” began the soldier who’d taken a swing at Ferret.

  “Our peasant hero,” a second voice finished. The speaker was tall and blond, with a swollen, crooked nose. “By the gods! How in the Abyss are you still alive? I watched you get run through, many times.” Captain Palam’s face was as white as a sheet.

  “After you put an arrow in my back, you mean?”

  Palam flushed and then, after a moment, regained his wits. “Seize him, men!”

  Creel didn’t have the energy to resist. The gods must have surely been displeased with him, for all the shite luck he’d had of late. The soldiers seemed somehow in awe of him and didn’t even bother to rough him up. They merely seized his arms and marched him away to the gaol.

  As they dragged him down the street, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Ferret’s curious face watching from the mouth of the alleyway.

  Chapter 22

  “Elyas!” Taren shook his cousin by the shoulder, trying to rouse him, but the big man didn’t reply.

  His breathing was shallow and his skin cool and clammy. The quarrel had lodged between two ribs although Taren couldn’t be sure how deep it went. A couple inches, he assumed. Elyas’s tunic and breeches were soaked with blood.

  “Ah, damn it! This was my fool plan, and now you’ve paid the price.” He tried to think what Wyat had said about arrow wounds before, for he’d received just about every type of wound a warrior could at some point in his life.

  Prepare for heavy bleeding once you remove the shaft, I think he said. That made sense since the arrowhead might tear an even larger exit wound if he pulled it free. As it was, the shaft was plugging the wound and preventing it from bleeding even worse.

  Taren used his dagger to cut through Elyas’s tunic so he could lift it away. Blood oozed from the wound, the skin swollen an ugly purple around the wooden shaft, and he assumed there was internal bleeding. He tore a couple strips from the blanket in his pack and wound them around Elyas’s torso as best he could though he had difficulty lifting the big man to get the bandages in place. After several long minutes, he had the bandages wrapping the wound and protruding quarrel as best he could. He briefly wondered when his cousin had put on so much muscle mass—he had to be the size of Wyat in his prime.