Hello everyone.
It occurs to me that I never adequately explained why people saw Nex's eyes as black, bottomless wells. I've known why for a long time now, but I never really found a chance to explain it in the books, or bothered to make a place for it.
Also as a gamer and lover of good stories I want to give a shoutout to The Banner Saga, the best strategy RPG I've played since Heroes of Might and Magic III Complete. Made by Stoic, it's split into two parts: the single player story mode The Banner Saga, and the multiplayer PvP battles in The Banner Saga: Factions. Both are awesome, especially if you love tactics and strategy, and are challenging and in depth in a way that rewards careful planning and execution. They're available on Steam, Factions free to play and last I checked The Banner Saga was 33% off.
Stoic is a fairly new company and The Banner Saga is the result of a kickstarter project. They're currently working on Chapter 2 of the single player story, which I'm looking forward to with great anticipation. I'm plugging the game because good games and good companies deserve to be supported, and also a slightly more selfish reason that the more people are playing, the quicker the queues in Factions will pop :).
NT
Truth to the Eyes
The felpacks of the Burning Legion were a terror to behold.
Drawn from the kennels of whatever hellish world the mo'arg inhabited, the beasts were massive, cunning, relentless in the pursuit of their prey and vicious beyond belief when that prey was caught, traveling in groups of a dozen with a felguard houndmaster driving them from behind with his cruel three-pronged whip.
Felhound pups were weaned immediately after birth, fed on blood and viscera until they were large enough to devour the tainted meats that were their diet. Also from birth they were fitted with a sadistic collar devised by the mo'arg, with spikes turned inward to press into the flesh of the neck. The collar was sized to fit an adult hound, with the spikes the only thing keeping it from slipping off the pup's neck, and as the pup grew those spikes were pushed deeper and deeper into the flesh. Never so deep as to cripple the pups, and the spikes were carefully set so that as they pierced they wouldn't touch any of the vital nerves, veins, or arteries. As well, felhounds possess unbelievable stamina and recuperative ability from their demonic nature.
The collars caused agony. Unceasing, growing ever greater as the hounds grew and grew, until finally they were driven mad and turned on any living thing they encountered. Only the whips of their masters could cow them.
Bizgh Maulfist of the Shattered Hand clan described him and a handful of his brothers being hunted by a pack of these monsters just before the Battle of Mount Hyjal. For a day and a night they'd fled at the best speed orcs can manage over long distances, which is unrivaled by any save the tauren plainsrunners, haunted by the cries of the beasts which hunted them. Until finally it had been a choice between collapsing or turning to fight. He described the sensitivity the hounds had displayed for magic, so that in their initial charge they'd ignored any orcs not directly in front of them to get at the seer who led Shattered Hands. It was that and that alone that had allowed Maulfist to escape alive, with the screams of his kin ringing in his ears as he fled. Loudest of all had been the tormented cries of the seer as his mana, and most of his blood, was drained from him as he lived and suffered.
Compared to such accounts the felpack charging the field toward them wasn't much. Many of the hounds were no more than pups or at most juveniles, with only two breeding bitches and a single monstrous alpha. Only those three adults wore the distinctive collars, and a houndmaster wielding a whip was nowhere to be seen.
A wild pack. Or at least wilder. Holdouts from the demonic invasion during the Third War, escaped into the southern reaches of the Eastern Kingdoms and drawn by the corruption of the Blasted Lands surrounding the destroyed Dark Portal. By any rights they shouldn't have been a problem for anyone, but if there was one thing that could be counted on it was the dauntless nature of the human spirit, driving them to spread everywhere and prosper in whatever hellhole they found themselves in. Including the madness of founding a village more than a day's walk from Netherguarde Keep and trying to till the lifeless soil.
So far the beasts had only killed a handful of cattle, a flock of sheep, and one unfortunate shepherd. But their howling had been heard at night outside the walls of the crude palisade that encircled the handful of houses, and the village elders had feared that it was only a matter of time before the hounds would find a way past the walls and devour them all.
And so, as befitting their nature, the elders had pooled together all the village's wealth and paid someone else to solve the problem for them.
That someone stood at the edge of the sparse patch of scrub oak fronting the eastern side of the village. Looking like little more than a beggar, with ragged clothes and no cloak, unkempt hair, nondescript brown eyes, and a skeletal body with almost no flesh on the bones, he would've been laughable were it not for the twin knives he held in his hands, both enchanted for demonslaying, with a brace of throwing knives on his belt bearing a similar red glow.
In fact the elders had laughed when he'd entered the village answering their bounty, tossed a felhound pelt on the ground in front of them, and offered to solve their problem for good. They hadn't believed he was the one who'd killed the beast, but since the bounty was for pelts they'd paid up. As for his offer to slay the rest of the beasts, they had nothing to lose from letting him try.
Probably just as good they'd accepted, since the aura of power around him would have certainly driven the felhounds into a frenzy and incited them to attack the village unless he'd gone out seeking them first.
Three felhounds he'd killed in his life, and a dozen books about them he'd read. Beasts the Burning Legion used specifically to hunt and kill casters, perilous to any but the most powerful or well prepared. There were ten charging him now, closing to within throwing range. He should've been terrified, but all he felt was a wild, reckless anticipation.
Few could understand his hatred for demons, even among those who'd faced them in battle. Few could know what he'd suffered, the horrors and the abuses and the endless mind-shattering pain. But these demon dogs would soon learn that of all they might have to fear, what they should fear most was Nothing.
His twin knives flew straight up into the air, and in the space of time it took them to slow their ascent, then drop back to his waiting hands, he'd drawn his two throwing knives and flung them, one after the other, at the oncoming threats. With twin snarls the two bitches flanking the alpha stumbled, one with a knife in her shoulder smoking and searing the skin in all directions, the other to dodge the knife that narrowly grazed her muzzle, drawing a yelp.
The alpha dodged too, snarling, but not from either of the knives. A shaft hissed into the ground between its front paws, and from the trees above Nex he heard a soft curse.
"Worry about the pups," he said, shifting his grip on his knives. "That alpha is going to take some work."
With that he charged the felhounds.
Snarls of anticipation were torn from half a dozen throats as the source of mana came to them. From just behind each of the felhound's heads twin feelers snapped out, waving as if with a will of their own. Each one stretched six feet in front of the beasts, lashing like whips with razored mouths at the end. Far more deadly even than the jaws or claws of the felhounds, these mana feelers were how they fed on magic.
Although any non-magic user would probably be wise to avoid them as well.
The alpha's stride lengthened to an astonishingly swift sprint, drawing far ahead of its packmates, and its feelers snapped out to converge on its prey from either direction even as the massive beast sprang, leaving Nex nowhere to dodge but back.
Instead he leapt straight upwards, levitation bleeding away his weight and allowing him to rise to twice his own height with relative ease. The feelers snapped together on thin air, hissing in frustration. The alpha, prepared to smash its prey to the ground, snarled in surprise and stumbled. That stumble became a snarling, graceless tumble as an arrow pierced its side and the alpha twisted to snap at the infuriating wound.
Nex dropped lightly to the ground, slashing his knives together to cleanly sever a feeler whipping at him, and shook his head. So his companion hadn't worried about the pups after all. The time the beast was in the air and unable to dodge made for a good opening, assuming you were a good enough archer to take it. He'd underestimated Landry, even after a week of battling the denizens of this hostile land together.
The feeler's owner leapt for him, and Nex dodged aside and slammed one knife into its back to knock it to the ground, then before it could react slammed the other into the base of its skull. The pup barely gave a whimper as it died.
Snarls all around him gave him all the warning he needed to leap straight upwards, feeding power back into his levitation spell so that he hovered just out of reach of the slavering jaws below. His reserves couldn't sustain hovering for long, but he took a precious moment to assess the situation.
There was no way he could fight nine felhounds hand-to-hand. No, scratch that eight felhounds: Landry had put two arrows into the heart of the bitch Nex had already wounded in the shoulder with his knife. Even so when his power gave out and he dropped into that mass of snapping jaws and waving feelers he'd be dead in moments.
He needed a way to divert or scatter them so he could hunt them one by one. The alpha's wound to the side was slowing it, which was a boon, and if possible he preferred to take advantage of that and dispatch the biggest threat quickly. Which meant he needed the others to go away for a short time.
Time for a new trick. And an old one.
Concentrating hard, he used the shadows to create a patch of darkness directly beneath him, building it as big as he could. He'd used this darkness on imps to good effect, to escape their torments and, ultimately, to end them for good.
The felhounds continued to snap and lunge in it, not trying to escape the darkness; although they relied on sight and their mana sensing would be distorted by the spell all around them, they also relied on smell and hearing. And in any case Nex's reserves were far larger than the spell, creating a beacon they could sniff out even in the spell.
At least until he burned their noses. So to speak.
Nex ceased powering his levitation and dropped towards the maws below him, and as he did he cast his second spell. The new one. His reserves plunged, his nondescript brown eyes blazed red for a moment, and around him a ball of flame formed, indescribably hot, and as he dropped it expanded outward. Eventually he would've liked to refine the spell to make a ring expanding horizontally around him, rather than this inefficient ball, but dropping towards the ground it was actually preferable.
Howls and yelps broke out around him as he landed among the felhounds and his hellfire burned them, overloading their ability to scent out mana. While they were distracted Nex bolted free of the darkness and flames and sped towards the alpha, who dropped low in surprise at his sudden attack and snarled, at bay.
The feelers, however, didn't seem surprised. They sped for him, closing the distance even faster than he did, and he had no choice but to dodge aside into one. As it sped for his heart his twin knives came together just behind its head, shearing it off cleanly like a pair of scissors. Then he dove to the side to escape the second strike.
Too slow. The alpha's remaining feeler snapped around his left leg, tight as a vise, and its head reared up and darted down, burying deep into his calf. No sooner had those wicked teeth dug into his skin than the feeler jerked powerfully, yanking him off his feet even as the felhound sent its foul energy coursing through the leathery appendage to begin burning his mana.
Nex jerked to the ground, gritting his teeth around a scream of pain as he felt lines of fire arc up his leg. That fire would be visible on his skin where it fissured and ruptured as the mana within him burned away. Unlike the mana burn employed by shadowcasters and wielders of the Light, what the felhounds did was a precursor, corrupting the mana in their prey so they could devour it in that corrupted form. Without his demon skin that corrupted mana might've been a severe affliction that would interfere with his ability to cast, move, or even think properly.
As it was he had no time for anything as petty as horrific torment or debilitating curses. His hellfire had gone out as soon as he dropped the spell and charged the alpha, but with his concentration shattered by his mana being burned the darkness faded as well, revealing him to the remainder of the felhounds. He was only ten or so yards away, easily in striking range.
The nearest of the half-grown pups leapt at him with a snarl as soon as it found him again, narrow jaw full of razored teeth opening wide to close around his arm, while the remaining bitch and another pup sent more feelers lunging in at him. Nex slammed his knife into the lunging felhound's mouth, ignoring the pain of those vicious teeth closing on his forearm, even as he rolled away from the bitch's feelers and snapped other knife out to cut at the pup's feelers. Without anything to push against the sharp blade only batted the leathery feeler aside, but the demonslaying enchant burned it cruelly and the smaller hound yelped and sprang away.
All the while the lines of fire arced up his leg as the alpha burned more and more of his mana. The huge felhound limped toward him, snarling hungrily, and Nex had a feeling that pretty soon that burning would turn to siphoning and his blood, corrupted mana, and very life force would be sucked away through the feeler.
At that moment the feeler dug into his leg jerked sharply and snapped towards him like a rubber tube pulled tight then cut. Nex looked over to see Landry crouched nearby, axe held in both hands and buried deep in the rock where he'd struck the feeler to sever it cleanly. The alpha yelped, gathered its legs beneath it, and sprang at the hunter.
Nex had no more attention to spare for his companion. The dying pup had its jaws locked around his forearm just below the elbow in what would probably be a death grip, and the bitch was coming. Meanwhile the pup whose feeler he'd singed was recovering, and not far away the remainder of the pack had recovered from his spell and was closing fast.
He pushed back to a crouch with a snarl, putting most of his weight on his right leg, and tapped some of his uncorrupted power to levitate strongly and spring up and forward, soaring over the heads of the pack. The surprised felhounds stumbled over themselves trying to turn and follow him, the pup locked on his arm stopped twitching its death throes, and the feeler dangled from his injured leg, trailing on the ground below.
He needed to stall them again. No matter what happened, he couldn't fight with one arm and one leg both hampered by dead demon flesh. Fear might work, if he was lucky. On adult felhounds like the alpha and his bitches, trained from pups by felguards, their frenzy would be too great for fear to have an effect. But for these whelps he might find some success, and he was decent at using his voice to instill terror in his enemies. He'd used it to good effect on various monsters and hostile sentient beings since leaving his caves.
He landed hard, stumbling and nearly twisting his ankle as the feeler rolled underfoot, and then turned and limped towards the felhounds. He tried to time his movement so they'd all converge on him as closely as possible, already drawing on his power. The portion the felhound had corrupted lurked like poison in the gut, but surprisingly he almost felt like he could tap it if he tried. He'd heard that it was impossible to use such mana after a felhound had corrupted it, and in fact it would poison the system until it was expelled in some way.
No time for academic thoughts at the moment. He focused hard, sucked air into his lungs and infused it with power, formed the proper spell matrix in his mind, and as three beasts leapt for him and two more came in low he threw back his head and howled.
To his surprise, rather than scattering in fright all of the pups went stiff and tumbled to flopping stops as if frozen solid. The remaining hound, the bitch, turned and bolted for the alpha howling in dismay.
He knew this spell could immobilize the enemies if it was cast strongly enough. He doubted he was at that level, which meant the other alternative: his targets were particularly weak of will. Either way it was an opportunity he couldn't pass up. Moving as swiftly as he could he went among the felhounds, slitting their throats. The fourth and final one sprang to life as he approached, sending a pair of feelers arcing for his head, and he ducked aside and batted the feelers away with the pup still locked on his arm, then sprang forward and slammed his enchanted knife down point-first into the base of the demon's skull.
Then he sagged down and cursed.
After a moment to make sure there were no immediate threats, he reached down and grabbed the feeler that was still burrowed in his left leg. He could feel his own power pulsing in it, in corrupted form, and almost jerked in surprise when at his touch the feeler became . . . responsive. Animated by his power it hadn't died even when severed, and since it was his power it almost made the leathery tentacle an extension of himself.
Experimentally he tried to command it, grimacing as he was forced to tap his corrupted power. But nothing happened save that the head twitched violently, and he nearly blacked out in pain as it tore away from his leg. He unwrapped the vile thing and flung it away.
A howl turned him in time to see the alpha less than ten feet away and coming for him in a lumbering rush. The wound in its side was still dropping black blood onto the red rock under its feet, and one of its forelegs had a nasty cut from Landry's axe, all the way to the bone, also dripping black blood. Both of its feelers were shortened stumps flailing about and thrashing at the hound's back and head, only serving to enrage it further.
Nex looked into its frenzied eyes and saw that no injury short of death was going to make it pause now.
With some effort he pushed to his feet again, casting levitation, but the spell failed as his remaining mana proved insufficient to the task, while the corrupted pool within him refused to feed into the spell matrix he set.
But he could control the mana, which was infinitely better than it being mere poison in his system. As the beast approached he seized every scrap of the corruption within him, gritted his teeth, and using the sort of crude, graceless spellcasting favored by witch doctors and hedge wizards he pushed it out of him in an explosion of power in front of him, with no real spell matrix to speak of.
Wildly inefficient and unpredictable, and corrupted to boot, the energy exploded as soon as it left his system, throwing him backwards. He heard another snarl as the alpha caught the brunt of the explosion, then everything went white.
. . . . .
He woke up to find the hunter kneeling over him, using a dagger to pry the pup's jaws open and free his hand. The man tsked at the torn crescents of flesh on the top and bottom of his forearm, dug through his pack for the bandages and salves he kept there, and got to work cleaning and treating the wound.
Nex lay back, gritting his teeth against the pain. "They're taken care of, then?"
Landry nodded. "That brute was the last of them. Whatever you did drove it mad, and it started twisting and leaping in place, those stumps behind its head flailing every which way. I kept my distance and filled it up like a pincushion but even that didn't finish it, so finally when it was just twitching on the ground I crept up and buried my axe into its head a dozen times."
Nex nodded, but said nothing more as his companion finished treating his arm, did what he could for his leg, then began putting away his healing supplies. Just a few strips of cloth and some plants boiled down to a viscous substance were surprisingly useful for injuries. Nex had no ability for healing magic, and in truth was injured by most holy spells rather than healed, and while his demon skin had regenerated every injury he'd ever received, it tended to be very slow. He might want to learn the hunter's skill at bandaging and healing salves so he could be more self-sufficient in the future.
Finally Landry straightened and looked at the corpses sprawled around them, wiping at his forehead. He froze when he realized his sleeve was drenched with felhound blood and viscera, and with a look of disgust he loosed the ties and stripped his shirt off, tossing it aside. "Waste of a good shirt," he grumbled.
"So buy another," Nex said, gritting his teeth as he pushed to a sitting position. "Or take one as part of your bounty."
The hunter chuckled. "Light's guidance, stranger. By all rights you should still be unconscious, or at the very least too weak to move. I can't speak to your intentions, but nobody could argue about your determination when it comes to killing demons."
Nex stared at the man for an uncomfortably long time. He wasn't sure what to make of humans. At first he'd feared them, expecting them to be like his mistress. But they were so much less than her, weak and purposeless where she'd been terrifying and driven. And at the same time they were so much more, able to smile and laugh and show kindness. He'd only been with Landry a week and he'd learned a surprising amount about the hunter, the man showing a willingness to open himself up and speak of his past and future goals that Nex would never have felt comfortable doing himself.
It almost made him wonder if Linda had been human at all. Or if he was.
"If you know my determination for killing demons you can speak to my intentions," he finally replied. "They're one and the same."
Landry shrugged. "There's a lot worse things to be in this world than a demon hunter. The pay is certainly good."
Nex made a noise somewhat like a snarl, ignoring the uneasy glance the hunter shot him. "I don't care about the pay. I kill demons because I need to. I need to see that every last one of them is gone from the surface of Azeroth." His voice lowered dangerously. "And then I'm coming for them on whatever other worlds they infest."
Landry chuckled uneasily at that. "Aye, lad, dream big. In any case if you don't want the bounty I'll take it all." Nex's look made him hunch his shoulders. "Or hey, I can understand still wanting to be paid for doing something you love."
Nex didn't answer. Instead he pushed to his feet with no more than a soft curse at the pain, retrieved all of his knives, and hobbled over to the alpha's corpse. He cut the arrows free first, then did his best to remove the mangled hide in one piece. The villagers just wanted it as proof of the kill, which was probably wise since using demon hides to make leather was something only fools or orcs would consider, but he figured he'd do the job as properly as he could.
Landry followed his lead and retrieved as many arrows as he could, then set to work skinning whelps alongside him. Within a half hour's time they'd skinned all the beasts and cleaned the hides-and themselves-as much as they could of the foul blood. As a final act before leaving the battlefield Nex unhooked the collars from the three adults, using the trick his mistress had taught him, and stowed the vile things in his pack to be disenchanted later. Landry looked at him askance as he did, but said nothing.
Finally he straightened, shouldering the pack. Combined weariness, his wounds, and the increased weight made him sway slightly, off balance, and to his surprise the hunter was there to catch his shoulder in support.
"Twenty or so minutes to the village," he said quietly. His attempt at joviality couldn't disguise the uneasiness in his tone. "You aren't, ah, going to go into a fit where you collapse to the ground thrashing and screaming incoherently for an hour, are you? Like you did after our last fight?"
Nex shrugged aside the man's hand. "I can hold out. I'm better prepared this time."
"Better prepared, maybe, but in worse shape. If it's going to happen best it happen here, far away from prying eyes." The hunter chuckled uncomfortably. "Not to be rude, but watching that gave me the heebie jeebies. I wouldn't want one of the villagers to think you were possessed and knife you while you were helpless."
Nex inhaled sharply. He could've done without Landry learning that particular weakness of his. Or anyone for that matter. But when he'd come to he'd found the hunter crouched nearby with a fire waiting, watching over him. He'd brewed something called swiftthistle tea which Nex had refused, although he appreciated the gesture. From the scratch marks on the man's cheek he had a feeling Landry had tried to . . . what? Restrain him? Comfort him somehow? Either way the man had obviously decided it was better to keep his distance.
"You didn't knife me."
Landry shrugged. "I knew a woman growing up, prone to collapse into fits. Nothing like yours, mind, but I understand something of the affliction. Folks who don't know it, though, especially superstitious types spooked by all the evil in the world, and especially around here where demonic taint is everywhere, might just get the wrong idea."
You don't know anything about my affliction, Nex thought. But he let the matter drop. If the man wanted to think of it as epilepsy that was probably for the best. Better that than the truth: that his tormented soul could find no rest until he literally collapsed from exhaustion and overuse of his power, and even then he was forced to endure vivid memories of the horrific past he'd suffered until he'd recovered enough to claw his way back to consciousness.
Seizures seemed tame in comparison.
As it turned out they didn't have to go all the way to the village. Either the villagers had some way of getting news of the victory, they'd come to investigate the area and offer assistance or, equally unlikely, they were just waiting out here exposed a hundred yards from their palisade to greet them when they returned.
Either way they cheered when Landry unslung the roll of pelts and dropped them at the feet of their leader, a priest named Barimus. A dozen men to escort their leader, six wielding bows and the others polearms. While their clothing was plain and somewhat ragged the weapons themselves were in good repair, which was all the really mattered.
Barimus didn't join his escorts in cheering, and at his sharp gesture the other villagers went silent, suddenly tense. The priest turned blue, kindly eyes on Nex, but those eyes were narrowed with condemnation. "I felt you," he said slowly. "I felt the shadows you cast."
"Shadows used to kill the felhounds tormenting your people," Landry said. But he'd stepped back, looking wary. "If you've got a problem with the methods we used give us our bounty and we'll be on our way."
"Warlocks came into Azeroth with the orcs," Barimus said, not seeming to have heard Landry. His eyes never left Nex's face. "Wielding vile magics, summoning demons. They've brought nothing but death and suffering."
"I agree," Nex said coolly. Perhaps it was his appearance, but he'd found that humans seemed to regard him with hostility, and occasionally attacked him unprovoked. Barimus hadn't done this last time, so perhaps the man really did hate warlocks and not Nex personally. If so Nex could sympathize, since he hated warlocks worse than anyone. "Warlocks should be destroyed."
"From your own mouth you condemn yourself," the priest said. His eyes began to glow white, ever so slightly, and he motioned to his escort. The polearmsmen lowered their weapons defensively, while behind them the archers unslung their strung bows and reached for arrows.
Landry stepped forward. His bow was still slung on his back, hands held non-threateningly at his sides. It was obvious he meant to talk this through. "This is wrong," he said quietly.
"Stay out of this, huntsman," Barimus snapped. "By your words you two are merely traveling companions chance-met on the road. Draw no condemnation upon yourself by your actions, or hint that you are in league with this shadowcaster."
The hunter shook his head slowly. "This boy fought for you, risked his life for your sake, and this is how you repay him?"
Barimus snorted. "What risk? He probably summoned the demons himself so he could rob us of our wealth."
Nex snarled. "Don't ever accuse me of consorting with demons!"
"You wield their powers!" the priest shot back.
"I wield my own powers. To slay demons and those who would ally with them. For ingrates like you."
Barimus motioned and six bows were raised. Nex prepared a shield, but before anything else could happen Landry stepped in front of him, hands raised.
"Protected by his accomplice," Barimus shouted, pointing. "As I suspected, the two aren't mere traveling companions as they claimed!"
"My words were true, I've only known the boy for a week," the hunter said, looking not to Barimus but to the villagers with their bows. "But in that time he's saved my life and fought at my side. I won't stand by and let you murder him."
"A week means nothing. A warlock could pretend to be your ally for a lifetime and still betray you when it suits him."
Landry shook his head stubbornly. "So could any man. I choose to live in a world where trust can be earned by actions, and I'll give that trust until I have a reason to do otherwise."
"It seems like we're not the ones who should be defending our trustworthiness," Nex said. "All things considered."
"Hold your tongue, boy," Landry snapped, turning to glare at him. "We're not going to get anywhere with you antagoniz-"
Nex shouted a warning, at the same time throwing up his hands and summoning a shield around Landry. While the hunter's attention was diverted Barimus had raised a hand and dropped it, and the villagers had loosed a flight of arrows.
His decision to shield his companion rather than himself wasn't wholly selfless. Landry was standing directly between him and the bowmen, so the shield would protect them both anyway. Trusting to the spell to at least mitigate the immediate threat, Nex began drawing shadows to himself and preparing to rain fire down on the heads of the villagers. He wasn't quite strong enough to cast the spell effectively, especially with his reserves drained after their recent fight with the felhounds, and it wouldn't have the devastating impact he'd read described when more powerful casters wielded it. But at the very least it would cause pain and break the archers' concentration, preventing future volleys.
Landry just had time to snap his head around, eyes widening in horror. Nex felt a moment of amusement, realizing his companion didn't know he was shielded. The arrows converged on them, Nex prepared his spell, and at the front of his group of traitorous villagers Barimus smiled and made a slight gesture, eyes glowing brighter white as power surged around him.
The shield around Landry winked out.
Five arrows slammed into the hunter, twisting him about like a marionette with tangled strings. Nex folded over at what felt like a felguard's punch to his gut, the sixth arrow missing Landry and hitting him instead. His spell died on his lips and he sank to his knees, looking down almost blankly at the arrow in his side.
Barimus had dispelled his shield. He'd known such a thing was possible, but he'd never learned how to do it himself. His mistress had, rightly, neglected to teach him anything which he could at one point turn against her.
The cold, rational part of him that faced demons without fear told him he was in shock, immobilized when he should be acting. Waves of pain radiated from the arrow in his side as he stared blankly down at the hunter's body. The arrows transfixing his companion kept him from lying flat, so he sprawled propped up by broken shafts, twisted to face Nex and with eyes staring at him in blank accusation. It was likely the man had died before hitting the ground.
He knew nothing of friendship. But in spite of all he was, all he'd suffered and how his past had shattered his mind, Landry had shown him kindness. Wary, uncomfortable kindness, but in the end he'd given Nex his trust. Enough so to face death on his behalf. Nex stared into those empty eyes, and in the glassy pupils he saw his face reflected. The gaunt, tortured face that stared up at him from every mirrored surface, every pool or pond or stream he knelt to drink from.
In the dead eyes of his companion he looked deep into his own dull brown eyes, wells of pain beyond what any could understand. And at this newest betrayal, this newest torment deeper even than the pain of an arrow wound as a companion he'd come to trust was murdered before his eyes, his mind fractured yet again. The part of himself that fed the tormented memories of his regenerative trance opened up, and as he stared into his reflected eyes the nondescript brown faded to black, until all he saw was that bottomless blackness ringed by white.
And then he saw much, much more.
A soft footfall alerted him to the priest's approach, and he slowly lifted his head. Up from the unblemished boots, the white robes trimmed with silver, the gold chain around his neck, past sun-browned skin, proud features, to the sincere blue eyes that stared down at him.
Nex blinked, and when he opened his eyes again he looked down at himself from above. From Barimus's eyes.
The gaze he inhabited tore away from the impenetrable wells of his eyes and he heard a gasp. Then he was looking everywhere at once as the eyes he occupied jolted and jerked backwards in a stumbling retreat. "Light have mercy," Barimus whispered. "The cursed sight."
Thoughts swirled in Nex's mind, but they weren't his own. They were the priest's thoughts, the secrets hidden behind those kindly eyes. Nex felt as if he need but push and he could tap them. The gaze he inhabited had locked on him again, and Nex watched himself slowly stand, swaying slightly with both hands clutching the arrow wound in his side. He took a tottering step forward, then another, and when Barimus tried to retreat Nex closed his mind like a vice around the priest's, holding him in place. But those Light-shrouded thoughts continued to elude him. Nex lifted a shaking hand, watching it approach, and pressed his palm to Barimus's forehead.
The priest screamed, and Nex's voice rose to join his in torment.
"I see," he hissed at the priest through the pain. "Now I see what you hid before. Your village doesn't even have the wealth to pay the bounty. You would've taken this course even if I hadn't used shadow magics. This was just a justification to relieve your guilt and goad your neighbors to action."
They broke away, both staggering drunkenly, but while Nex managed to straighten it was Barimus's turn to fall to his knees. The priest curled up until his head rested on the ground, and then he began retching.
With his new sight Nex saw the arrow approaching before the archer loosed, but in his state of shock all he could manage was to jerk sideways and down. Rather than piercing his heart the arrow grated off a rib and tore a gouge through the side of his chest as it passed. He felt the rib break, saw the fractured bone through the skin and muscle and blood covering it. He felt himself drifting for an eternal moment, and it took all his willpower to tuck his chin down to prevent his head from slamming into the ground as he sprawled backwards. He lay there, staring up into a sky that wasn't empty, while in his peripheral vision things that weren't there stared back.
Cursed sight. Or second sight, as some called it. Often it was those who possessed it that called it a curse; if ignorance was bliss, the ability to see reality was utter torment.
It sees us.
We see it.
Is there a difference?
No. One would not be without the other.
The Blasted Lands were home to a rift in the Twisting Nether connecting worlds. Great and terrible magics had been employed here, not only the corrupt magics of warlocks and necrolytes of the Orcish Horde, but incantations worked by archmages and the holy cantrips of archpriests and paladins. To say nothing of the vast magics worked by the last Guardian of Tirisfal. Tens of thousands had died within a few miles of the spot he rested, and some of their shades remained trapped here, partially in this plane of existence and partially in another.
And there were . . . other things, beyond simple shades, that his fledgling second sight could not quite perceive. And he called that a mercy, for even the lightest touch upon their consciousness stirred their attention his way. Nex shied away from them.
He was left aware of three wizened figures leaning over him, shades of ancient orcs arrayed in fetishes of bone and feather and tusk with skin covered in obscene symbols painted in blood. Elder shamans, or orcs who had been before turning to the corrupt magics of demonkind. They spoke, of course, in Orcish, and though Nex knew the language he'd rarely heard it spoken aloud. It required significant concentration to decipher the words.
Its soul is so close to escape. Should we aid it?
Invite a human to our realm? Sargeras forfend!
We can always usher it on its way.
"Izzak narkatul bish rizt," Nex mouthed, trying to form the spell matrix behind the words.
The shades conveyed amusement.
It tries to bind us.
Should we be charmed, or insulted?
Infuriated?
I could point out, brothers, that he speaks in demonic.
There was a long pause. An ally?
Confederate, certainly.
Nex switched to Orcish. Binding was beyond him at the moment, but if he'd learned one thing from his mistress's negotiation with ethereals, it was that beings of the Nether Plane were always open to conversation. If for no other reason than sheer boredom. "A priest is currently trying to kill me."
A Lightsworn? Curse their eyes. Grizuk nuk'slalok khoresh!
Alas, we perceive nothing of the Prime Material Plane. You yourself are only half in our world, and most of that is your perception.
"I've heard it said that perception is all the truly powerful need. How would you like to kill some humans?"
In the eternal distance he heard Barimus shouting. "He casts a spell! Kill him!"
Show us.
With a shrug Nex struggled to focus his eyes, newly attuned to second sight, on the priest and his circle of villagers, all of whom had retreated to a safe distance. Two raised bows in a smooth motion, nocked arrows, and loosed. Nex wasn't sure how to show the shades any of that, but with some effort he raised a shaking hand and pointed.
He felt a brush against his mind, similar to when the succubi had probed him for secrets and bent him to their will. Deep within himself, in that font from whence he drew shadows and wielded his magic, a vile presence touched his very essence.
One of the orc shades tottered over, almost leisurely, and swatted the arrows out of the air with its gnarled staff. We're agreed, then, it said, though in his dazed state Nex had no idea what it was he was supposed to have agreed to. Then the shade raised its weapon overhead in both hands, chanting in demonic, and a swirling red and black glow rose around it. Nex recognized the words, though the spell was beyond him, and bit back a curse. All he could do was roll over and curl up protectively, scrunching his eyes shut.
He heard screams, a roar, and hell unleashed around him.
When he came to the arrow had been removed from his side and his blood boiled with fey vigor. He recognized the effects as something like bloodlust. He hadn't been healed in any way, but his own demon skin and the magic that infused his limbs and strengthened them had begun the healing process. Weak as he felt, he still had the strength to sit up.
Up ahead, where the village delegation had stood, thirteen burned skeletons sprawled in a ring of blackened stone and ash. Beyond them the wooden palisade had been shattered as if a giant had tromped through kicking aside logs like twigs. The houses within the palisade were charred ruins, some still burning fitfully.
Awake? Grizuk and Narbash will be pleased.
Nex jolted and twisted, ignoring the pain, to see one of the three orc shades leaning on its staff nearby, staring at him. Then he glanced back at the devastation which had been wrought. "You said you couldn't see this plane."
The orc leered. I can't. They couldn't, until they tethered themselves to your soul. You could say they're haunting you. Bad for your world, I would think.
With a groan he rubbed at his eyes. He had a headache pounding so hard that with every heartbeat his vision blurred to black for a split second. Every time he moved his eyes lances of pain shot all the way through his skull. Even opening and shutting his eyes provided their own brand of torment. "The village betrayed me, but I didn't want them all dead."
Didn't you? At Nex's stare the shade shrugged. Most aren't. With you unconscious and the link tenuous they still couldn't quite see any but those you specifically revealed to them. Most of the pinkskins escaped heading north. My brothers, on the other hand, went south. They seemed more interested in inspecting the remnants of the Dark Portal on this side of the Prime Material Plane.
"And you didn't go with them?"
The orc's eyes narrowed. New to your truesight, eh? We were the first thing you saw, weren't we? If you saw truly you'd know I didn't accept your invitation. This world tires me, and the world of the living would tire me still more. I prefer to sit around wallowing in endless boredom.
Nex struggled to stand, gritting his teeth at the pain, and hobbled towards the ruins of the village. To his surprise he saw, amidst the charred wreckage, a cleared area. In the middle of that cleared area a small pile of coins lay incongruously. He glanced at the orc, who was ambling along after him. The shade stared at him blankly, even when he inclined his head at the gold and silver in a silent question.
Are you slow, human? I just said I declined your invitation.
"It's a pile of treasure."
Ah, that. Narbash has a twisted sense of humor. He perceived through the soul tether that these humans had refused to pay your bounty, so he decided he'd leave it for you.
Perceived through the . . . Nex felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, and his skin crawled. "They were in my head?"
Amusement. Of course. You let them in.
Nex shuddered. "I don't want the shades of two orc warlocks tethered to my soul!"
One warlock. Narbash is a necrolyte. The orc shade hobbled over to stand in front of him, looking him over closely. Not that I blame you. The question is, though, what are you going to do about it? Or for that matter, what can you do about it?
Nex dropped to his knees, ignoring the ash. His first real encounter with humans beyond chance greetings, and this is how it ended. What a fool he'd been, consorting with the filth that consorted with demons. Death might've been preferable to striking a bargain with such abominations. "Any suggestions?"
The orc threw back its head and cackled. Oh yes, I could tell you exactly what to do to solve this problem. I could tell you a dozen and one ways to go about it. But you wish to destroy demons, and have a special hatred for those who consort with them. Besides that I already told you I'm tired of all of this. So no, I'm not going to help. With that the shade made a rude gesture at him and turned its back, starting to hobble away.