“No, no!” she suddenly shrieked in a tiny voice. “I'm sorry! I'll do it! I'll do it! I'll be good now!”
Her words and condition made the whole experience that much more messed up and horrifying. “It's okay,” I tried to say, but I was still pulling my way through the nasty sludge that kept clinging at me then immediately splashing away.
Please be okay, I wound up thinking instead. Whatever happened, please be okay. Please be well. Just hang on.
Then, as if some just and loving god had heard my prayer, the remaining sludge immediately splashed off the tiny poor woman. I heard and felt the rest of the Pit shudder at the same time, and the remaining muck in front of me began to slowly move out of my way. Another glance at the little fairy showed that her skin suddenly looked healthier. Furthermore, she had stopped thrashing and was beginning to still completely, as if under a calming sedative.
That was yet another baffling occurrence in an already head-wrenching day, but I had to concentrate on getting the little woman to safety. I was just glad that she wasn't affected by any of my passive combat spells. I'd have to get Breena or Stell to explain that to me, but it looked like they'd only activate if I was the recipient of harm or if I was moving in a way that projected the desire to cause harm. At any rate, I could carry her without hurting her, so I focused on just doing that. The muck parted a pathway as I climbed back out of the pit, but I stopped and looked at the remaining fairies in cages.
“Is she the last one?” I asked urgently. “Is there anyone else in there? Anyone I haven't seen yet?”
They shook their heads at me. Looking back at the muck a second time, I thought I could see a few animal bones in spots of the pit, but no other struggling mounds indicating that anything left in there was either humanoid or still alive. I finished climbing out of the pit, holding the last tiny victim to my chest and speaking softly to her, trying to tell her that she was safe here, that nothing bad would happen anymore.
I was about to kneel down and open the remaining cages, when I noticed a figure standing in the doorway.
I didn't know how I had missed him until then. I didn't know where he came from.
But I did know that the last Horde-being left in this place was standing in front of the only doorway out of this place.
And just like the first batch of Ilklings, he was making my mind-screen yell at me.
WARNING! WARNING!
FOREIGN CONTAMINANT DETECTED.
CONTAMINANT IS WRETCH-CLASS HORDE-BEING.
WARNING!
WRETCH-CLASS HORDE-BEING HAS BEEN ENHANCED.
DETECTING THE FOLLOWING KNOWN ENHANCEMENTS:
LEADER OF A SMEAR-CLASS NEST.
INCREASED SIZE MUTATION.
DARK ICON BLESSING.
BEWARE! BEWARE! BEWARE
Unlike last time, the intensity of this message was almost enough to give me a headache. Thankfully it faded quickly from eyes, so I could at least see what the magic of this world was screaming about. The Horde-being in question, apparently called a 'Wretch,' (really unflattering names these guys have, the deadpan corner of my mind noted) stood a bit over four and a half feet tall. That was well over a foot taller than the Ilklings had been, but it still barely came up to my chest. However, unlike the Ilklings, the Wretch stood straight-backed and upright, with slightly firmer muscles. Its skin was still black, but it was tighter, and not as wrinkled as his smaller cousins were. Furthermore, most of it was covered in coarse brown fur. Only its hands and a few channel-like patches of its skin seemed capable of dripping horde oil. Its head was perhaps the most striking difference. The Ilklings had heads like wrinkly, over-toothed, drooling bowling balls. Their leader had a more oblong head, like a cross between a deer and a man. It was baring its toothy maw at me, and it had two large antler horns that grew out of either side of his head, that could almost touch my shoulder when it stood straight up.
The final differences were that it was clothed in a dirty loincloth, convincing me that it had a gender, unlike the Ilklings, and probably male. It carried a silvery, leaf-shaped blade in its left hand that looked to be about two feet long.
Unlike me, it was actually armed with a real weapon. Further unlike me, its weapon was in its hands and not lying uselessly near the muck-pool. Shifting to hold the rescued fairy carefully in my left hand, I cursed both myself for not being more careful and my luck for not providing me with a better outcome for my choices.
Then my luck seemed to redeem itself.
After staring at me for another moment, the horned monster seemed to notice the pit behind me, and it began to tremble. The short sword fell from its hand. It lowered itself to its shaking furred knees and in a quivering voice, spoke up.
“Great one,” it rasped, to my comprehension and surprise. “This Wretch surrenders.”
What?
That didn't make any sense. I had an injured captive in one arm. My other arm was weaponless.
My spells gave me some armor, but if an Ilkling's teeth could still pierce my skin then there was no way that sword was letting me walk out of here without paying a pound of flesh.
But the horned monster had lowered its face to the ground in complete submission. “Surrender,” it hissed, its speech still somewhat garbled and not completely articulate, but understandable enough. “This Wretch surrenders. This Wretch grieves. This Wretch repents.”
Well, I thought for a moment. What the hell do I do with that?
My conscience had no problem earlier letting me kill in self-defense. Every single Ilkling so far, except for the two that were busy killing one of their own, had attacked me first. Furthermore, every one of them had taken part as far as I could tell in hurting or torturing another intelligent creature, and had probably killed dozens of harmless animals as well. Finally, they had been dumb as bricks, not really selling me on the “having sentience” angle. They just seemed like a pack particular large, four-limbed, perverted murder-cockroaches. To say I had felt peace about killing them, especially after witnessing what they were doing to those poor pixies, was an understatement.
But this last one had an intelligent gleam to his eyes, was no longer acting as a threat, and seemed to show remorse for its actions.
The tactician in me said to put a lightning bolt in its skull, while it was vulnerable and unarmed, as soon as I could put the fairy down safely. My conscience was resisting that idea. But, as usual for my conscience, it didn't have an alternative action for me. I had to figure something out, and quickly.
“Stay right there, and do not rise,” I commanded, finally deciding at the very least that I needed to secure the little hostages first. I carefully put the pink pixie down, then reached over to the cages. The barred doors had no key, just a semi-complex latch on the outside that was too heavy for the fairies to move and too complicated for the stupid Ilklings to unlock on their own. I wondered how the monsters had managed to either find or make such a thing. But all three doors popped open and, after a moment, three little heads bravely peeked out. “Take her,” I whispered, pointing to the pink fairy. “Stay out of the way for now.”
Then I turned back to the horde creature, quietly grabbing my club. Even with his head low, the wretch had noticed my opening the cages. He spoke again, his head still lowered.
“Forgiveness, great one,” the creature rasped. “This Wretch should not have taken those. Great one is right to take them back. Punish this Wretch as you will.”
Now that was really strange. It would have been one thing if the monster had begged me to spare it. But as far as I could tell, the thing was showing genuine remorse. It was even accepting its actions had consequences. What was I was supposed to do with that?
“You understand my speech?” I asked slowly. Probably should have checked that earlier, I thought.
“Yes, great one. This Wretch will heed.”
“Okay,” I said carefully. “Do you understand that it was wrong to capture these little women? And their friends in the next room?”
&nbs
p; “Indeed, great one,” Again, he spoke without raising his head. “This Wretch has no excuse.”
“And that it was wrong to hurt them, and to lock them in cages?” I pressed on. One of these questions should help either me or my conscience figure out what to do.
“This Wretch did not know such things. Now this Wretch does. This Wretch will strive to do better. This Wretch will obey.”
The fawning tone in this creature's voice disgusted me. But I had to admit that it was also, beyond all else, submissive.
Should I really kill something that was trying to change its ways? Especially when it hadn't killed anyone else yet?
“And you understand now that it was wrong- extremely wrong- to throw anyone into a filthy pit where they would drown in disgusting muck?”
At this, the horned creature raised its head slightly, in confusion. “Wrong how? The pit would give us her magic, and not kill her. It would only prepare her,” the monster insisted. Its face was hardly human, but it was still clearly cocked in a way that suggested I asked it something I should have already known. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the pink fairy begin to shudder again, and the other three began to pet and comfort her. But they were all pressed against the wall, as far away from the both of us as possible, and the glances they sent my way showed just as much fear as when they looked at the monster in front of me.
That, unfortunately, made too much sense. Right now I was on speaking terms with the thing that had captured them.
“What were you preparing her for?” I asked. Some instinct in the back of my mind made me grip my club tighter, and I felt my combat spells quietly begin to reactivate on their own.
“To be this one's bride-meal,” the monster said, each word coming bluntly out. “How you not know?”
Bride-meal?
What the fu-
But the monster interrupted my inner expletive.
“Did great one not come for bride-meals?” the creature demanded, rising slightly from the floor. Suspicion was starting to color its voice. Its beast-man head still tilted at me, but its hands were gripping the floor now, in case it needed to rise completely and quickly. “Did great one not come to collect? This Wretch did not know great one was coming. This Wretch would have had all four already prepared for great one, only hoping great one would leave one for this Wretch. Why has the great one come, if not for tribute? How does the great one not know Pit?” He raised a claw to point behind me. “Pit knows great one. Knows great one well.”
It must have seen me rise from the pit of crap unharmed.
That was why it had been submitting, I realized. It wasn't yielding to the righteousness of my cause. It wasn't surrendering because I had kicked the crap out of its tinier, brainless kin. It was submitting to me because of the way the nasty muck had reacted when I had entered it. It took the Pit's submission to me as some kind of sign of authority on my part, that the Horde-being should recognize as well.
I had been thinking the creature was having a crisis of conscience. That hadn't been this case. What had been the case was that this horned, murderous, lustful, depraved savage saw me as kin. As a greater form of everything it aspired to be.
“No,” I said out loud, firmly rejecting that possibility, even as disgust for the idea crawled all over my pores. “No way in Hell.”
The monster before me brightened at that comment.
“Yes! Hell! Great one is from Earth! Welcome! Welcome new lord!”
“What?” I spat. I was deeply resenting the fact that I was still talking with this thing. This is all your fault, I thought angrily at my conscience.
“Pit said a great one would come!” The little monster shouted excitedly. He-it-whatever- had pulled itself to its feet, and was holding its sword as it waved both hands around. “Said you would come ahead of many more lords! You lead us! You make us strong! We serve again!”
It stood to its full height, grabbing its sword, and pointed at the four little figures huddling behind me, drooling and leering at them.
“And this Wretch will teach the young lord all about little bride-meals!”
My bad, I finally heard my conscience say. Go ahead and kill it with fire. Right now. Please.
I'd have to use lightning instead, but other than that my heart and mind were finally on the same page.
I turned my head partially to where I could see Breena's kinfolk out of the corner of my eye, not willing to fully look away from the wretch. Their eyes seemed had grown more and more horrified the longer I had talked to the stupid thing in front of me, but now they were looking at me in horror as well.
Even in this dire moment, the painfully familiar feeling of suspicion made me wince.
“Ladies,” I began, glad they could understand me even if I couldn't always understand them. “Stay far behind me. I'm going to try and give you a break for the door. If he takes me down, or if I get him clear from the door, I want you to run to the next room and let my friend know I might have lost, and that she needs to get you all to safety. Understand?”
Three little heads nodded- the pink one was still huddling in her sisters' arms- and a little bit of trust glittered from their eyes once more. I turned my head back to wretch in front of me.
“What?” the monster said, sputtering drool as it cocked its head. Then its eyes fell on the pink fairy I had rescued from the Pit.
“Clean,” it said, eyes growing wide. “Bride-meal is clean! Is clothed! Is whole,” that last word was spat out of its mouth. “Bride-meal is ruined! Why? Why?”
“There are a number of problems with your sick logic,” I began, tightening the grip on my club. “But we'll start with the fact that the little woman you were torturing isn't anyone's meal and isn't anyone's bride unless she joyfully consents. And she sure as hell isn't any combination of the two.”
The monster's deer-like head looked at me like it had been slapped.
“No,” it finally growled. It pointed a quivering finger at me, like some priest discovering an apostate in the middle of his congregation.“You not great lord! You false teacher! You false teacher! No waste prey! You traitor! You bad! You wrong!” He pointed his blade at the fairies. “Mine!” he growled, black saliva rising visibly in his mouth. “Mine! Mine! Bad-wrong traitor! Bad false teacher! Mine! Mine!”
I braced my club over my shoulder, taking a step to the left to test him and to get a better stance. In hindsight I probably should have found a way to continue the charade until he dropped his guard long enough for me to find a way to kill him, but I saw no such opportunity. Oh well.
“Sorry, you depraved freak,” I said calmly. “I don't know who you were expecting. But you're not allowed to hurt anyone else today.”
“Bad-wrong traitor!” the creature snarled at me again, stepping forward and raising its silvery short sword. “Bad false teacher! I kill you! I kill you! Mine! Mine!”
It was hissing and spitting the whole time, but the antlered little monster didn't rush at me like its idiot cousins had earlier. Disappointing, but not entirely unexpected. What was unexpected was how well it seemed to be holding its weapon. Its clawed hand kept a steady grip on the handle, and it advanced toward me cautiously. I watched the thing warily, trying to figure out a good tactic for this fight. I had the better reach, even if it tried to use its horns, but the monster had the better weapon. I also had four tiny people I was trying to protect, but since they could all fly, and the horde creature was trying to keep them from escaping, maybe that hindered him more than me.
I decided to wait for it to try and get in range, since I figured I had the advantage of time. The longer the fight went on, the longer the captives had a chance to recover their strength and make a break for it. And, even better, Breena might be able to finish healing the other pixies and come join the fight.
The monster crept forward cautiously, leaning as if he was going to step into range of my swing, then darting quickly back. Then he sneered at me, more black saliva coating his teeth. He's counting on
my patience giving up and making a mistake, I realized. The Horde wretch was a total freak, but he had been smart enough to guess my age and gather that I was inexperienced. The fact that I was just using a random stick as my weapon probably reinforced that.
Don't let him intimidate you, a quiet voice said in my head. You have the advantage. Let him be the one to over-commit.
I didn't know where that thought came from, but I could tell it was the right call. Getting a dash of inspiration, I smiled at the monster and relaxed. The thing hissed at me, tensing, but didn't come any closer. The wretch's eyes started roaming across my face, as if my new confidence had unnerved it. But moments passed and it still didn't take the bait. That was fine. I waited a little longer, and then, just when the creature seemed to settle into waiting, I removed one pinky from gripping the stick and pointed it at him. It had the last finger-bolt on that particular hand. I fired it quickly, replacing my grip in under a second, and the tiny little bolt smacked the horde wretch right on the nose. The creature yelped and snapped its mouth, then it snarled and charged forward at me.
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