The little woman grew slightly, back up to eight inches as she floated over to me.
“Wes!” she said hurriedly. “Are you alright?” At the end of her question her gaze at latched onto my bloody arm.
My bloody forearm that no longer hurt and wasn't bleeding anymore, despite missing a chunk of muscle.
“Yes,” I said in slow realization, holding up my arm. The pain was diminishing rapidly, and the wound looked to be already scabbing over. “But why am I alright? And should I be worried about infection from that creature's drool?”
“Infection? What?” the fairy tilted her head at me. “No, you're fine. As long your vital points aren't all gone you can't bleed to death or get normal diseases. But let me fix that quickly anyway.”
She muttered some words I couldn't understand, and a blue glow began to fall onto my wound, numbing it and repairing before my very eyes. A second or two later it was completely back to normal.
“My what?” I asked, exasperated with her words, even while marveling at her healing magic. “What the heck are vital points?”
“Vital points are created when the mana in your body interacts with your Constitution. They're another difference between the Unrisen and heroes like you. When your vital points run out you're as vulnerable to injuries as you are back on Earth. But here they serve as a temporary shield, something that goes first when you get hurt, making sure you don't bleed or lose muscular function. As long as you don't run out of them or get subject to an attack specifically designed to pierce them, the only thing you'll feel from injuries is a reduced sense of pain, and you can fight or act normally. Provided you can handle the pain that is.”
“That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard o- oh,” I said, catching myself. “They're hit points. Got it. What do we do about him?” I turned and pointed the last Ilkling, that was still twitching and trying to crawl away from us. “Can you make it tell us where they took your kin?”
Breena's face flashed in memory as I mentioned the other fey.
“Right, the others.” Worry writ itself all over her face, but she slowly shook her head. “Horde at this stage don't really speak. They might throw out a garbled word here and there, but we don't think they're capable of understanding conversation. He'd probably just gnash at you- and leer at me.”
“Leer at you?” The hell? I thought. “What do you mean by that?” I was really, really not liking where this was going. My only consolation was the fact that since these creatures were completely naked I could tell for certain that they were not equipped to do anything I was really worried about.
Breena shook her head.
“They're just disgusting by nature,” she said. “They get something out of making females feel uncomfortable. And the other breeds of them are even worse.” She glared at the oily little monster. “But no, even if you torture these thing, it won't tell you anything because it won't understand you.”
I wanted to ask her what she meant by 'other breeds' of Horde, but we didn't have time for another lesson. But another thought finally smacked me in the head, after watching the wretch crawl for far too many moments.
“Where is it going then?” I asked, hoping I knew the answer.
“Probably back...to... its lair,” the little fairy said with gradually widening eyes.
I stepped forward, brandishing my heavy stick and growling at the wounded, but hateful little thing.
The Ilkling turned its wrinkled head at me for a moment, its eyes growing wide at the sight of my threatening stance. Then it hissed, and tried to scamper more quickly, one of its back legs flopping in an awkward limp.
“Do these things have vital points too?” I asked after a moment. “Or will the thing bleed out if I push it too hard?”
Breena buzzed by me, glaring impatiently at the monster. She shook her head again.
“Your kick penetrated its vital points quickly enough to cause lingering damage, but aside from its limp it will gradually recover in the next ten minutes. Faster if you give it time to rest.”
“So waiting for that won't increase its speed and will just make it more dangerous,” I said quietly. “Got it.”
I forced the creature to crawl as fast as it could while counting to two hundred in my head. When I reached that number I fired one of my finger-bolts at it. I wanted to keep it weak enough to remain harmless but strong enough to lead us to where the other monsters and their captives were.
At least I hoped there would be captives. In a video game this would be no problem. The prisoners always lasted long enough for you to save them, and the few times they didn't it either was never my fault or I had a little timer on the screen to let me know just how long I had to get to them. We had to hurry, but as I thought that I realized another problem.
“Breena,” I said quietly, with my eyes roaming all around the massive forest. “Is this thing smart enough to lead us into a trap?”
“Not when it's afraid,” she said calmly, in control of her fear now. “At this stage the Horde is more about hunting weak prey than waging war and conquest. A Smear-sized group of Ilklings isn't going to do more than make a well-hidden lair and hunt out all the vulnerable, preferably intelligent creatures it can catch.”
“Why do they care out about intelligent creatures?” I asked.
“Because the Horde thrives most off of consuming the beautiful, the valuable, and the rare. My race- and especially myself, since I'm technically just a part of Stell, molded into a fairy- are all of those things. Unlike myself, however,” she added with an edge. “Fairies are vulnerable to anyone who can catch them and resist their little magics. They're the perfect captives to let this batch of Horde grow from a Smear to a Contagion or worse.”
“That sounds bad,” I said, without taking my eyes off of the nearby forest.
“It is,” Breena agreed. “But I don't have time to describe why. Just know that we have to hurry because there still might be just enough time to save my friends.”
That seemed a little optimistic to me, but I wanted to hope that any captive to something as disgustingly awful of these things could live long enough to be rescued.
Twigs under my feed snapped. Leaves rustled by me as I stomped on. Part of me wanted to be more careful, but the rest of me knew that the Ilkling ahead of me was making noise enough for both of us. I just kept my eyes and ears open for the sight of anything else.
My mind-screen blinked at me very quickly, and information splashed quickly into my brain.
The Icons of the Woadlands have been made aware of a new Challenge forming.
Mother Grove has been made aware of your arrival and will observe your actions.
Lady Titania has been made aware of your arrival and will observe your actions.
The Stag Lord has been made aware of your arrival and carefully welcomes you
Great Pan has been made aware of your arrival and approves of your actions on his world.
Woad Princess Merada has also been made aware of your Challenge and will offer assistance as soon as possible.
“Who are the Icons?” I asked, after blinking rapidly. I made sure I was still watching the Ilkling ahead of us before Breena began her explanation.
“The Icons are the higher authorities of the perspective world. Some worship them as gods, while some just hold them in veneration.”
“Are they Starsown, like Stell?”
“No,” Breena replied. “They're usually just former inhabitants that have Risen in such a way to where they permanently reflect an Ideal or two. Guineve would be the closest thing to a member of one of their races. Stell said not to confuse them with perceptions from your world, though. Even if they sound similar, they're really not like the gods of any of your planet's religions. In fact, most of your religions wouldn't count them as gods at all, just really strong, really long-lived mortals that stick to certain roles.”
I wasn't sure of that. The names made me think a little of some Celtic, Norse or even Wiccan deities, but I didn't care enou
gh to interrupt.
“Is Merada another part of Stell?” I asked, watching the Ilkling ahead of us carefully. It was changing speed, which meant that either it was close to its nest- or Smear, or whatever they were called- or that Breena was wrong about its health and the wretched little thing was about to keel over.
“Yes, she's another Satellite,” the little fairy nodded to me. “But it will take her forever to get here. Look! We're close,” my companion said in a hushed voice, worry crawling back on her face. I turned my attention back to the Horde we were chasing. I had already zapped it once earlier, when my internal count had reached two hundred and it had tried to rest. My new count was up to a hundred and eighty. I debated whether I should use another finger-bolt on the creature or save it for when we showed up to wreck its friends' faces.
But the decision was soon made for me. The little Ilkling suddenly darted behind one of the few large rocks I had seen in this forest and disappeared. I raced forward, stick at the ready, but all I found was a tiny hole that the rock and nearby shrubbery covered up. Breena fluttered around me, her expression still worried.
“Okay,” I said to my winged little companion. “Counting that one, and the four we killed earlier, and since you somehow already know the size of this Smear or whatever, how many more Horde monsters are probably down here?”
“Since only a handful of Horde attacked us earlier,” Breena began, staring intently at the hole. “and since all of them were Ilklings... I'd say anywhere from one to two dozen Ilklings total, with just one larger type of Horde-being to serve as their leader. So after four casualties, you're looking at least nine, but no more than twenty total Ilklings, plus the leader. Who might know we're here now,” she added worriedly.
“Right. So no time to waste,” I began to refresh my personal spells, letting the rush of magic wash over me. “So how do I get under that rock?”
“Just push your way through,” Breena said, peering into the hole. “It should widen out further in. The initial opening is clear from what I can see, though.”
I had no choice but to take her word for it. Grabbing the ground near the edge of the two-foot hole and holding my stick close to my body, and fervently wishing I had a real weapon, I pushed, pulled, and kicked my way into the tiny opening as quickly as I dared.
I fell rather un-gloriously into a much wider room, rising quickly while sputtering dust and probably worse from my mouth. I held my stick at the ready in both hands as I looked about. The place looked like the earthy-walled den of some small animal, save that it was just large enough for me to stand up in. All of that had made sense to me, though, except for the size. What was especially weird to me was the large hallway at the other end of the barrow, with an even higher ceiling and flickering lights farther along the walls. When Breena flew down with me, I pointed at the place.
“Are those lights other fairies?” I asked.
“What?” She asked, confused and peering forward. “No, they're just lights. I forgot this is your first Challenge. The Ilklings aren't very smart, but they use the oil from their skin to make their homes. They widen and harden the walls with it and can use certain patches of it to burn slowly for light.”
I cocked my head at that.
“Light? Why would they need light?” I asked.
“To see with?” Breena said slowly, as if her answer was obvious. “Everything that can't naturally do magic needs light to see with. Certain monsters and deep-folk need only very little to see with, but everyone still needs some. Isn't it the same on your world?”
“Yes,” I said slowly, and with embarrassment. “Sorry, operating under some wrong impressions. But we should hurry. Stay near me so that I know what to look out for.”
With that, we began a slow descent into our enemy's lair.
Chapter 16: Monstrosity Denied
The small den had no other openings other than the creepy, dungeon-esque hallway. Breena briefly whispered that this was normal. This early on, the Ilklings wouldn't have had time to do anything but make a few rooms, including something she just called 'the Pit,' the hallway, and the exit. There were rooms we'd check first for the captives, rooms we'd expect to find remains or other looted items, rooms we'd expect to just find monsters, and finally, the Pit. We'd check the Pit last for some reason she didn't want to say.
I moved us forward as fast as I dared. Breena neither cautioned me or demanded I hurry. I took her silence as approval, and examined the walls for anything suspicious, like dart traps or anything else I could think of from my movies and games. There were none, but the walls were still suspicious. I could see patches where the Ilklings had smeared the disgusting crap from their skin. The black smears seemed to warp the earth and stone into something else, with a harder, gnarled texture. Stranger even still was that both the black oil and the walls themselves seem to naturally form the most disturbing stick-figure art I had ever seen. It looked like a caveman's drawing, only creepier, more gruesome, and somehow more perverted. There were scenes of small creepy things, which I gathered to be more Ilklings, rolling in something gross and getting bigger, and thicker. Many scenes had monsters of all types cavorting around other figures of different sizes with lines drawn on them as if they were in chains. Some pictures had the captives running from the Horde figures, while in other depictions they were writhing as the figures did things to them that I really didn't want to make out clearly. But even my willful ignorance couldn't stop me from noticing that the greater the Horde-beings, the more painful and depraved the torment they inflicted on their victims.
I really didn't want to see more of these creatures, I realized. I didn't want to be anywhere near anything even half as sadistic and perverted as these pictures suggested they were. That one encounter I had with them earlier suggested that I had only seen the tip of their disgusting depravity, that whatever came next would be progressively worse and worse, until I was stuck watching the most graphic versions of one of those adult murder films a former teammate had once told me about. My foot almost stopped falling forward right then, almost locked up on the spot.
But my foot moved forward anyway. Because a tiny voice inside had suggested that seeing more of what these creatures did would not be the most scarring thing I could experience. What would be even more scarring was the possibility of spending the rest of my life knowing what these creatures were doing, and that I had done nothing to stop it from happening. So I stepped forward, again and again. The possibility of this being a dream or delusion was currently gone from my mind. That tiny voice was tugging on my inner ear, insisting that I was needed right now, that I had a purpose, that I was right where I belonged. In spite of everything else, the rest of me resonated with that, and so I kept walking forward, Breena by my side, my improvised club at the ready. We reached the spot where the oil torches began and kept walking, now with our shadows jumping all over the walls. We kept going until we reached a corner in the hallway and turned with it.
There, we found our old guide.
The Ilkling was sprawled on the ground, body twisted in an unnatural angle. The leg that had caused it to limp earlier was gone, save for a blackish, gory spurt near the joint, as if it had been violently torn off. Atop the body were two other Ilklings. One was holding the severed leg of its kin, taking small bites from it one moment and beating its fellow's corpse with it the next. The other was grabbing the corpse's head by its hands, hissing and spitting at it and then slamming it down onto the oil-warped earth.
For a moment this sight baffled me. Then I realized I was on a time crunch and that for whatever reason, these two idiots were making it easier for me by both killing one of their own and having their backs toward me while they desecrated its corpse. I stepped forward quickly, winding up my long club for a hit and slamming it into the head of the leg-wielding Ilkling. There was a loud crack, followed by another zapping noise, then the little monster somersaulted into a hard patch on the wall and slid down. The remaining Ilkling suddenly dropped the broken head a
nd leaped up, eyes rising just in time to see my club slamming down on its forehead. The first blow seemed to just floor the little monster, so I swung down two more times, wincing as the force traveled from my club into my hands. But the creature's head cracked and gave in, rewarding me with a gory sight of thick black mush. I heard the sparks from my lightning magic cauterize the wound, creating small spots where the monster stank of cooked meat.
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