Chapter 21
In which Narlafayn encounters trouble
Fall came to the lands of Aden in a burst of color, and soon people were preparing for the fall festival in Dion. Narlafayn had taken up residency there after receiving a letter from Vuylay telling her that she was currently living in Gludin once again, this time with Sharmin and Komugi, and that Narlafayn should just do what she wanted for the rest of the year. Narlafayn had first taken the letter as insulting, thinking Vuylay was angry with her, but she later learned in another letter that Vuylay was determined to carry out her tasks to become an Oracle and didn't want any distractions of traveling about with Narlafayn until she'd done it and gotten stronger.
Narlafayn still wore the Mithril armor that Leon had given her, finding that the strength training for a Knight was a lot more difficult than it had been when she was a mere Fighter. Progress was slow, and she was unable to purchase stronger armor with her current income. She had grown accustomed to it, however, and soon it became her staple fashion expression.
She hadn't seen Leon or Junk Pixie since earlier that summer, and she wondered how they were doing. Her clan had been strangely silent as well, as Inaphase, Glarawen, Arvalo and Tex had gone up to Elmore on business not long after Arvalo and Glarawen had returned from their honeymoon. She'd see Legooshka and Mad Midget in town once in awhile, more Legooshka than Mad as he'd left La Familia and was currently trying to put together a crew to become the first ever Orc Shaman Pirate. She found herself missing the human named Tex McTex in surprise, although they hadn't kissed even since the wedding.
Narlafayn had taken up a job from a guard named Harlan to hunt a small nomadic band of Orcs from the Enku tribe. The Enku Orcs were smarter than most of the Orcs that had denounced the teachings of Paagrio, but still not smart enough to be considered worthy opponents. Now that the fall festival was upon the village, Narlafayn had been asked by Harlan to assist a cook named Jonas by collecting the ingredients he needed to make a dish for the cooking contest that would be held during the festival. Narlafayn soon found in frustration that the best ingredients he asked for were hard to procure, and ended up returning with only the sub par ones more than once.
"You couldn't get the White Essence of Mandragora?" Jonas asked her in a whiny tone of voice as she handed him a bottle of Red Mandragora sap. Her temper flared and she squeezed the bottle, cracking the neck of it.
"Listen, why don't YOU go to that stinking place and hunt your own damn Mandragora sap?" Narlafayn growled. Mandragoras grew near the entrance of the Execution Grounds, and Narlafayn had been unfortunate enough to have been there during feeding time. The bodies of those who were killed in that place never returned to their families; they were instead loaded into large silos that had screaming demon statues protruding out of the side of them, mashed up like potatoes, and sent through tubes to the fields where the Mandragoras grew. Narlafayn had been unable to sleep properly since witnessing it, and lost her lunch whenever she remembered what she saw. No more would she eat any meals that she knew had Mandragora sap in it, now that she knew what Mandragoras were made of.
"Fine…this will come out of the money I give you though." He grumbled, taking the cracked bottle from her. He pulled out a clipboard and began flipping through the pages clipped to it, trying to find his next ingredient. Jonas loved hanging out with the Dwarves who took care of the Warehouse, and today was no exception. The hustle and bustle of people demanding their wares from the squat Dwarves was intense, especially so close to the festival. Narlafayn began gritting her teeth, contemplating telling Jonas where to shove his sap, irritated at being pushed every five seconds.
Behind Narlafayn, a human with short dusty blonde hair entered and froze as his eyes landed upon her. He limped around to look at her face, his eyes widening. He lifted a shaking hand to point at her and began making a stuttering noise. Growing more irritated Narlafayn looked at him, frowning.
"What's your problem?" she challenged, putting her hands on her hips. He looked familiar to her, but Narlafayn couldn't place where she'd seen him before.
"You're that bitch that killed Phuong!" he shouted loudly. Narlafayn's frown dropped and her eyes opened wide. She looked around herself in horror as the conversation died down in the Warehouse, all eyes on her.
"What are you talking about?" Narlafayn asked woodenly, glancing at the shocked faces looking at her.
"D-d-d-don't play stupid you harridan!" he shouted, his pointing finger shaking violently. "I went through t-two years of torture in the Execution Grounds because of y-you!" he stuttered. "P-Palmer didn't even make it that long…" he said sadly, his voice thick. Memories of the Maille Lizardman Barracks re-emerged in startling clarity, and Narlafayn instantly remembered where she had seen the man in front of her now. He had been the blonde Rogue that had accompanied Phuong; one of the men that had half raped Vuylay and had been arrested thanks to the efforts of Leon. The last time she had seen him the only mar to his appearance had been the cut that Vuylay had given him across his nose and cheekbones; now he looked much worse.
His hair was short now from the long ponytail that it had once been, and badly shorn into a shaggy style. The cut Vuylay had given him had obviously become infected during his time at the Execution Grounds leaving a discolored scar after it finally did heal. Part of his left cheek had caved in, and the eye on that side rolled uselessly in its socket as if it had been removed and shoved back in precariously. He walked with a limp, and Narlafayn found that one of his feet had been cut off at the ankle. It amazed her that he was still alive after all the obvious torture he'd gone through. A portion of his tongue had been removed, which was most likely the cause for his stuttering now. Not wanting to deal with him, Narlafayn turned away and exited the Warehouse in a hurry.
"D-d-don't walk away fr-fr-from me you hussy!" he shouted after her. Narlafayn glanced over her shoulder in dismay to find him limping as fast as he could after her, sweat beading on his face from the pain of putting weight on his leg stump. "I s-stayed alive for two y-years j-just thinking about all t-the ways I was g-g-going to k-kill you and you s-s-s-slut Dark Elf friend!" he snarled, still limping after her. Narlafayn froze then spun around to face him, her face contorted into hatred. "Y-yeah, that's right. S-she was a g-great slut. L-l-last woman to ever p-put her lips on me thanks to you and y-your Kn-Kn-Knight friend. N-n-now I can't ever h-have a woman again a-a-after that p-p-place." He said wickedly, grinning now that he found a weakness in Narlafayn.
"Alright bastard, you have my attention now, what do you want?" Narlafayn glared, her hands clenching into fists. The man leaned in close to her, an insane gleam twinkling in his eye.
"I want to s-s-see your face twisted in p-pain as I cut off your l-limbs one by o-one." He said in a low voice, the grin broadening. "A-and then when you c-cry in hunger because you can no l-longer feed yourself, I'll h-happily f-feed you my own sh-shit." He continued with a high-pitched giggle. "It'll taste g-good, won't it?" his voice and laugh grew more shrill, and Narlafayn's hands trembled with anger. Before he could continue, she drew an arm back and punched him across his jaw, putting all of her strength into it. He stumbled and landed on his stump, yelping in pain before crashing onto his side.
"What right do you have to speak to me like that?" Narlafayn snarled at him, nursing her sore knuckles. "Angry at me for the torture you received? Don't make me laugh! If I were the one who convicted you, I would've had you put to death on the spot! The death of your sick friends will never match what you did to those orphan girls, or to my friend!" she shouted. The man scooted away from her, his stump leg dragging on the ground as he backed up. He wiped his mouth with one hand while glaring at her as he moved. "Justice was served, now live with the price of your sins." She said in a low voice before spinning on heel and walking away from him.
"T-There is no s-such thing as j-j-justice in this w-world!" he shouted after her. Narlafayn ignored him and continued walking. "Y-you're g-g-gonna learn that the h-hard way one of these days!" he shouted louder. Narlafayn rounded the corner of the building and re-entered the Warehouse, determined to put him out of her mind by getting the next ingredient Jonas needed and leaving town to hunt for it. "I'll m-make sure you do." He added in a lower voice, a dark smirk crossing his lips.
The next day Narlafayn found herself on the outskirts of Cruma Marshlands, staring into the mist without expression. The memories of her last visit there were still very fresh in her mind, and it made her uneasy to enter again. I'm stronger now, I can do this. She told herself firmly. Taking a breath she adjusted her shield and half slid down the hill she'd perched herself upon to look out across the marsh.
The next ingredient that Jonas had needed was honey, and had told her that he'd prefer royal jelly if she could get any. The Stinger Wasps around Cruma Tower were said to yield royal jelly more than honey, so Narlafayn decided to brave the bandits in the marsh, not really caring to travel all the way to Floran in search of Bloody Bees.
She found a half-buried pillar in the ground and set up a temporary camp underneath it for a quick doze. She'd traveled all night without rest, trying to put as much distance as she could between herself and the psychotic Rogue still stalking around Dion. She woke a half hour later and pulled herself from her hiding spot, ready to take on the wasps as quickly as possible.
It was easier to travel through the marsh in the daylight, she found, the mist not as thick as she had originally thought. Stakato and giant insects still roamed as plentiful as always, and Narlafayn came across several hunting groups killing them. She kept her distance though, and breathed a sigh of relief as it seemed they were there for their own reasons, and not to kill honest folk.
She paused beneath a strange pillar that had green glowing runes and vein-like designs gracing the stones that built it for a quick lunch. Her hunt for wasps had been slow; the insects were very hard to locate quickly in the expanse of marshland. The sounds of battle met her ears, and Narlafayn peered over her shoulder around the pillar to see where the noise was coming from. She paused in mid-chew of the bite of jerky she'd just taken, her heart suddenly leaping into her throat and causing her appetite to flee.
Not quite fifty yards away from where she sat, a man wielding a spear attempted in vain to fight off a small party of men, who attacked him with raucous laughter. A friendly-faced Bishop kept the man who looked like he was doing the most attacking healed, while a Dark Elf stood off in the distance, loading an arrow into his bow and aiming it at the spear wielder's back. She stood quickly and began to back up, her eyes large. She looked around herself in desperation, trying to find a place to hide, but was dismayed as she realized the nearest tree was so far away it was barely visible in the mist. The arrow flew from the Dark Elves bow and hit the spear-user in the back. He screamed as he fell, the arrow head protruding through his chest on the other side, blood spraying the moss as he collapsed. Run Narlafayn! A voice of reason shouted in her head. Don't stand there and watch, run!
"Right there!" she heard someone shout, and the men turned, focusing directly on Narlafayn. She spun on heel and bolted for her life, knowing that she was not strong enough to even hope to take them on.
"That's right honey, you keep running, we like to chase!" the man the Bishop had been healing shouted, his voice thick with laughter. Frightened noises came from Narlafayn's throat as she ran blindly, trying to remember the way out of the marsh.
"HELP ME!" she screamed into the air, her voice giving away her terror. The only answer she received was sinister laughter. The Dark Elf ran faster than the rest of the men, and paused to aim an arrow at her. It missed her back and landed in her arm, spearing her through her elbow. She cried out, but did not cease in running. The Bishop paused in his running and chanted a quick spell, and Narlafayn suddenly felt woozy. NO NO NO NO! She wanted to shout angrily, but found that the Bishop had used a sleep spell on her. Her mind was still very much conscious, but her body had gone to sleep. The man he had healed slid to a stop behind her and drew a dagger which he spun once before shoving it into her back. Narlafayn woke up with a gasping scream, her eyes wide as she was brought to her knees with the pain.
"Oh no, not yet." The dagger-user gloated, catching her from falling by grabbing onto her hair at her scalp. He yanked her head back roughly and cut his dagger across her cheekbones and nose, a similar wound to the one Vuylay had given the Rogue years before. She screamed again as blood poured out of the wound and across her face before lifting a hand to grip her hair where he held it. She squeezed his hand with all of her might, praying for the strength to wound it enough for him to release her. The Dark Elf shot another arrow, which penetrated the armor of her gauntlet and pierced through her wrist. Her hand flew away from her head with another cry of pain, and dangled uselessly at her side, both arms now immobile.
"How do y-you l-like your j-justice, b-bitch?" the voice of the Rogue came as he limped around the man who held Narlafayn's hair. Tears of anger poured from Narlafayn's eyes as she stared at him with all of the hatred she could muster. Her eyes widened as the familiar faces of some of her clan mates peered at the display in horror behind the Rogue.
"Help me!" she cried to them weakly. All of the men drew their attention towards her clan mates, who were stronger than all of the men surrounding her combined. The clan mates looked at each other without expression then shrugged and walked away, disinterested.
"Smart people." The Dark Elf complimented. "Want me to go rough them up a bit?" he asked the dagger user.
"Nah, we were paid well, we've got plenty of fun right here." The man grinned, cutting through the leather straps that held her breastplate on. The metal fell away from her chest, leaving only the striped tunic to protect her. The dagger user suddenly had an insane gleam in his eye and lifted up his dagger, then plunged it down, driving it into the soft flesh of her right breast. Narlafayn screamed in agony, her arms flopping uselessly at her sides as she tried to get the wounded muscles to work.
"Shut up already, your voice annoys me." The Rogue snarled, taking a stick from the ground and driving it into the soft place at the base of her throat. Narlafayn's eyes widened and she gasped, air suddenly no longer going through her throat, but through this new hole the man had created.
"You idiot, now she's going to suffocate to death before we've had our fill of fun!" the Dark Elf protested. The Rogue shrugged, tossing the stick to the ground. Narlafayn choked, trying to find air, her vision swimming with black specks. What did I do to deserve this? She cried inside. The dagger user released her hair and let her drop to the moss on her stomach. They moved to her pack and began digging through it, looking for desirable items. A heaving sob attempted to leave her body, the air whistling through the hole the man made in her chest as her eyes shut, finding them too heavy to keep open any longer.
"That's quite enough of that." A smooth voice came. The men looked up just as a discharge of energy flew through the air and hit the Bishop in the chest. It seared through his lungs, leaving a charred hole. He was dead before he hit the ground. The Gladiator with slicked back brown hair that Narlafayn had bumped into that one night in Gludio so long ago emerged from the mist with a sinister glare. Surprised, the remaining men backed up a few steps before the Dark Elf fired an arrow into the Gladiator's shoulder. He did no more than blink in mild surprise as the arrow penetrated his muscle, and looked down at it curiously, as if it were no more than a mosquito biting him. "That could be a problem." He stated lightly, reaching up to break the arrow in half. Leaving the rest of it where it was, he lifted his swords and darted at the men without a word, his first target the Dark Elf.
The Dark Elf grinned at the challenge flying at him and drew another arrow back in his bow. He let it fly, its path directly towards the Gladiator's forehead. The Gladiator ducked it smoothly and twirled both swords in his hands before gripping them tightly and stabbing them into the Dark Elf's waist. There was a broken noise of surprise from the Dark Elf's throat before the Gladiator pushed in hard once before pulling the swords out, the direction they were in slicing the Dark Elf in two. His innards spilled onto the grass before his body did, earning a shout of despair from the dagger user.
"Pathetic. I can't believe so many people died to you." The Gladiator mumbled, spitting on the Dark Elf's head. He turned his head in a swift movement to look at the remaining men. "I'm running out of time here, so be a sport and tell me which one of you paid for that unnecessary torture on the body of that girl?"
"H-h-he did!" the Rogue suddenly shouted, pointing at the dagger user, who looked at him in horror. The Gladiator raised an eyebrow, his face expressionless.
"You do know that you just gave yourself away, correct?" he asked the Rogue evenly, shaking the blood from his swords as he slowly advanced towards them. "A man would never pay himself to kill someone, now that is just ludicrous." He stated logically. The Rogue whimpered as he turned on heel to run away, leaving the dagger user, who raised his dagger and ran at the Gladiator with a shout. Without even looking, the Gladiator beheaded the dagger user, not deterred from his focus. He shot himself forward and cut at the man in a cleaving motion, catching his foot as it was raised in the position of running. The Gladiator cut it off neatly, leaving the man with no feet. He sheathed one of his swords to lift the Rogue up by his hair. After glancing at Narlafayn's prone figure once, he stabbed his sword through the man's arm at the elbow and again on the other hand at the wrist, mimicking her arrow wounds and nearly tearing the limbs off.
"S-S-Stop, I b-b-beg you!" the man screamed. "I've h-h-had enough t-torture!' he sniveled.
"Torture? Really." The Gladiator responded, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows in interest. "Do tell me of this torture, I'd really like to learn about the methods they use in the Execution Grounds. I've been there several times, but nobody will ever spill about the methods they use." He drew the Rogue's head back and traced the point of his blade across the puckered scar on his face, reopening it. "I'd also like to hear where you've justified what you did to that girl over there. You obviously did something veeery bad to be punished in the first place. What makes you think you've got the right to seek revenge after that?" He jammed his sword about five inches into the Rogue's pectoral, pushing it outward instead of withdrawing it, cutting a huge tear into his chest. He screamed as a spray of blood shot into the air, showering the mossy ground with red color.
"S-she deserved it… s-she k-k-killed Phuong…" the Rogue said in a hard tone of voice, his eyes watering. "Wh-Wh-Whore like her…h-h-has n-no respect f-f-for c-clan p-politics…P-p-people l-l-like h-her need to d-d-disappear." He stuttered.
"Clan politics you say?" the Gladiator repeated, the interested tone of voice returning.
"Vlad, if you don't hurry, she's going to die." A new voice came from the mist. Vlad looked up as the form of Amari appeared, walking slowly with his arms folded across his chest. He made a sour face at the bodies littering the ground. "What a mess…couldn't you perhaps be a little neater next time?" he asked, wrinkling his nose.
"I'll try and keep that in mind, but it's really hard when you're dealing with the squishiness of humans." Vlad apologized. "I'm almost through here, just got one last injury to share with him. Sadly, I don't have anything stick-like on me so I'm going to have to use my sword again." He looked back down at the Rogue without expression and lifted his sword once more.
"No please!" the Rogue pleaded. Vlad gave him a childish half smile before driving the sword point downward, stabbing him in the base of his throat as he had Narlafayn. Instead of just puncturing the thin skin there, Vlad kept going, impaling the Rogue with his blade until the point burst out of his back and pinned the man to the ground. He left the sword there, the Rogue twitching reflexively. He turned towards Amari, who was kneeling next to Narlafayn, checking her pulse. "She kick it?" he asked.
"No, but she's close to it. Let's get her back to Dion." Amari murmured, loosely placing her breastplate over her and lifting her. "Grab her bag, will you?" he asked, glancing at his companion. "Oh, and don't' forget your sword this time. I'm tired of cleaning up after you when you leave evidence." He nagged as he opened up a Gatekeeper scroll in one hand.
"Don't forget your sword this time." Vlad mimicked in a high-pitched tone of voice with a sour expression as Amari disappeared. He shook his head and reached down to retrieve Narlafayn's bag, and paused as something caught his attention.
Every place that her blood had touched had formed into a patch of dead moss, the dirt underneath suddenly looking barren and rotten even. The scientist in him suddenly curious, Vlad took an empty bottle from his pack and scooped up a patch of the bloody earth and hurriedly brought it over to the impaled Rogue. He dropped it onto his face and watched in childish curiosity as the drops of blood still speckling the dirt seeped into the Rogue's face. The skin, in a small circular patch, rotted and dried away at an accelerated decomposition rate, Vlad mentally recording the reaction with professional excitement.
"Interesting. Very interesting. I'm going to have to study this some more…" he stated to himself as he withdrew the blade from the Rogue's body. Cackling to himself in glee he opened his own scroll, leaving the bodies in the marsh for the Stakatos to deal with.
Narlafayn woke, wincing as bright sunlight streamed into her room. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from it, wishing that she'd taken a room with curtains. Suddenly remembering that she hadn't rented a room anywhere, she sat up with a bolt, her eyes wide. She felt her chest, throat and face, sighing in relief as she found all of the wounds healed.
"Glad to see you didn't bite it yet." Amari said from his seat near the window. Narlafayn looked at him in confusion for a moment before slamming herself against the wall the bed sat against in fear, her mind not quite working properly yet. "I see. Your psyche must've had quite a shock after all of that." He said in a pitying tone. "Is there anything I can get you? You look thirsty." He offered, standing up and taking his staff from where it leaned against the chair.
"G..Glarawen." Narlafayn said, still staring at him with a wild expression. A pained look crossed Amari's features for a moment, as if he were recalling something from his past.
"I'm not sure I'm familiar with that name, but I'll see what I can do. Stay put." He commanded, gently shutting the door as he exited the room. Narlafayn stared at it for a moment as if she expected the Rogue or the dagger user to come barging in any second to finish her off. When she seemed assured that she was safe for the moment, she scooted off the bed and padded across the floor, the long white nightgown she wore swirling around her in a ghost-like fashion. She opened the window and looked out, trying to get her mind to recognize the scenery of Dion.
Gotta get help… she thought woodenly, walking stiffly away from the window and towards her armor, which was piled neatly in the corner. Gludin…to the clan hall. Nov always said to go there when I needed help. She thought, dressing. She found that the straps of her breastplate had been repaired, but gave little thought as to who had done it. Her eyes still locked in their wide-open state, Narlafayn reached into her pack and dug through it until her hand closed around a special Gatekeeper scroll. It had a seal on it in the shape of a house, and was specially designed to transport a person back to their clan hall. She pulled her pack onto her shoulder and without another thought, opened the scroll. The transport light had just diminished as Amari re-entered the room, his jaw dropping slightly as he found it empty.