The Longest Road, Part 14


Arne turns and runs headlong back toward the caravan to get them moving. Khaytala wastes no more time, kicking her horse into a gallop and racing down the hill toward the burning village. You weigh your options, then curse under your breath. There's nothing else for it. This is an enormous risk you'll be taking... but there's too much already at risk for you not to take it.

Breaking into a sprint, you run toward the edge of the hill, one hand reaching for the clasp to your cloak. It was never a perfect enough covering to completely hide the fact that you have wings, not on any long-term basis. And Khaytala, at least, has never raised any comment about them. Still, wings aside, you're not sure whether or not there are any tieflings who inherit enough of their demonic ancestors' nature for full-fledged flight.

But... fuck it. At this point, that's the least of your worries.

You tear the hooded cloak from your shoulders and fling it aside, your black-feathered wings unfurling as you leap from the hill and soar into the air. With each wingbeat you propel yourself forward with increasing speed, and soon you catch up to Khaytala. She looks up, startled, as you sweep past overhead, but there's no time for explanations. Your destination is approaching fast, and you need to reach it before she does.

You hurtle through the air toward the besieged town hall. Ahead, you can clearly see the large group of orcs; most of them are just watching, laughing raucously as the impromptu battering ram hammers against the barricaded doors. You angle your wings to fly upward, gaining altitude. Then, as you reach the town hall, you thrown yourself into a dive, plummeting down from high above toward the building.

Your appearance is sudden and without warning. You slam down on the roof in a crouch, the stone tiles buckling beneath you from the impact. Your demonic features are on full display as you glare murderously down at the orcs. "Traitors!" you roar in orcish, your voice thundering with fury. "Did you really think you could keep this disobedience hidden from the eyes of the Witch Queen?"

The laughter from the crowd of orcs dies instantly. They look up at you in shock, instinctively shrinking back before the sheer authority in your voice, along with the unexpected mention of their monarch. You can see fear in many of their eyes at this sudden turn of events. They didn't think their mistress would hear about this raid. They didn't think they were in any danger.

But if the Witch Queen knows...

Behind them, you can see on the edge of your vision that Khaytala has brought her horse to an abrupt halt, staring up at you with wide, incredulous eyes as she tries to make sense of what is happening. You force yourself not to look at her, focusing your attention on the orcs as you pour on the pressure. "You know full well that her majesty has forbidden any violence against the humans," you snarl. "And yet you dare disobey her command? Are you so tired of your lives?"

One of them—who you take to be this group's leader from the symbols painted on his hide armor—steps forward. He's clearly rattled, but tries to assert control over the situation all the same. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?" he demands.

"I am an agent of the Witch Queen's wrath," you respond, menace dripping from your every word. "When your absence was discovered, she tasked me with tracking you down. She also gave me permission to slaughter as many of you as necessary to defend those she desires to protect."

The orcs shrink back even more as you glower down at them, regarding them like they're insects. Of course, you couldn't actually slaughter even a single one of them, not on your best day. But that's one advantage of your demonic appearance, especially when confronting the ill-informed and superstitious. They can't really be sure what supernatural powers you might have up your sleeve.

And you're very, very good at giving off the impression that you could kill every last person here.

Seeing the failing morale of his troops, their leader tries to rally them. "Don't let this bastard scare you!" their leader shouts as he pulls his sword from his belt and brandishes it up at you, though a growing fear is audible even in his own voice. "No matter how powerful he is, he can't beat all of us!"

You laugh. It's not a nice laugh. "So confident..." you say, sounding amused. "Do you fools still not understand your situation? Even if some few of you did manage to escape me... where would you even escape to? Kovora, Vekmar, Nelin, the Great Forest... all lands would be your enemies. No home left. No safe haven. You would be pursued without rest. Hunted down like dogs, wherever you flee."

The look of growing panic on the raiders' faces is priceless, as you use all your rhetorical skill to drive home to them the idea of how utterly fucked they are. That they're a small group, alone in the middle of enemy territory... and about to have their only retreat cut off. That no matter what happens here, making the Witch Queen their enemy—along with the rest of the world—would mean their doom.

They're intimidated, backed into a corner with no escape. And only once they're desperate for any hope do you offer them a way out. "If it were up to me, I would kill you all right now," you say. "But the Witch Queen takes no pleasure in wasting lives... and it seems you have not yet shed any innocent blood here. So I offer you this one chance on her behalf. Return to Kovora... beg for her mercy... and she may settle on a more lenient punishment than you deserve."

The orcs exchange frightened looks, talking to each other in low, muttered tones. You let it continue for a few moments, then you deliver the finishing blow. "And whatever you chose, I suggest you chose quickly," you say. "Because it seems that I am not the only one who is hunting you... and I have no intention of saving you from her."

With that, you switch back to the human tongue. "Greetings, Khaytala," you call out. "It's been a while since we last fought, hasn't it? Perhaps we can have another duel once this trash is dealt with."

The orcs whirl around, finally noticing the half-orc woman behind them now that their attention is off of you. They'd been shrinking back away from you, but now it's her that they start trying to distance themselves from. You manage to pick out fragments of terrified whispers from below, such as "Khaytala?" and "The Reaper of Lithenvale?" and "...can't really be her, can it?"

Khaytala, for her part, just looks up at you with an unreadable expression. But thankfully, she decides to play along. She dismounts from her horse, then begins slowly advancing on the raiding party, sword drawn.

The leader of the orcs, however, makes one last attempt at turning the tide. "You cowards!" he shouts at his cringing raiders, his eyes wild with a crazed mix of fear and rage. "It's not... It can't... This is all just a trick! It has to be! He's... he's just trying to scare us so we'll run! The Witch Queen doesn't really know we're here! He isn't really her agent, and that bitch isn't really the Reaper! I'll prove it to you!" And with that, he launches himself into an all-out charge toward the female half-orc, blade held high.

Calling what follows a "fight" would be far too generous. With a roar, the orc leader swings his blade down at Khaytala in a devastating slash... only for her to parry it with her own, redirecting his force just enough to leave him slightly off-balance. For Khaytala, it's enough. She takes ruthless advantage of the opening, spinning to decapitate him with a single strike. The body falls behind her, spraying blood across the ground.

She doesn't look back. Doesn't even break stride.

The raiders were already terrified, and seeing that pushes them over the edge. There's no doubt left in their minds that Khaytala is Khaytala... and you've tricked them into thinking that you're an equally dangerous foe. The entire raiding party turns and runs for their lives, fleeing the village in a panicked rout.

Letting out a relieved sigh, you hop of the edge of the roof and glide down to the ground, then turn and bang on the town hall door. "The orcs are gone," you call out, confirming what they no doubt have already seen from the building's upper-floor windows. "You can come out now; it's safe."

You hear the sounds of muffled argument coming from the other side of the door, but you leave them to decide when to risk emerging. Your focus is on Khaytala as she approaches you, that same unreadable expression on her face.

Except... no. As she gets closer, you can read some of the emotions underneath that expression it now. You see worry, confusion and turmoil in her eyes. Like she's trying to figure out how she ought to feel about what she's just seen, and it's eating away at her.

Shit. If there was any doubt left in your mind, the way she's looking at you now removes it. She can understand orcish.

Interestingly, though, Khaytala doesn't start by calling you out on any of that. Instead she crosses her arms. "So... I've fought duels with you now, have I?"

You shrug, offering a faint, lopsided grin. "I was trying to bluff them into running. It was a way to scare them. Plant the idea in their heads that I was as dangerous as you."

"I know, I know," she says. "It's just... why didn't you let me handle it alone? Why did you put yourself in danger?" You're surprised to note that there's still a distinct note of worry in her voice. She isn't just confused about why a servant of the Witch Queen would risk himself to intervene on her behalf. Despite everything... even now she can't help being concerned about you, as a person, putting yourself at risk for her.

"I know you're a lot stronger than them," you explain quietly. "But you're still recovering from the poison, Khaytala. And if you tried to fight so many at once... I was afraid you might get hurt. Badly hurt. I... I couldn't let that happen."

Khaytala regards you searchingly for a few moments longer, probably trying to figure out how much of what you said she can allow herself to believe. Finally, she clears her throat, then glances away so she's no longer looking you in the eye. "So... uh... what were you saying in orcish that made them so afraid? I... only understood the part at the end. When you stopped speaking their language."

It's obvious she's lying; Khaytala is as hopeless at deception as ever. But the fact that she's even trying to lie means she doesn't want to confront you about it. At least not yet, not until she has time to think about it. She wants to keep what she's just learned to herself... not realizing how easily you can see through her.

She knows. But she doesn't know that you know that she knows.

You chose your words carefully as you answer her question. "I mostly just threatened them. Threatened them with anything I could think of, really. Some of it was just bullshit, like how I tried to paint myself as some kind of deadly warrior." You pause. "I even tried threatening them with my employer, actually."

Khaytala's eyes widen a little. "Your... employer?" she asks, with forced casualness.

"You know, the one I'm working for as a courier," you say. "She's very rich and powerful; she could probably hire just about every mercenary and caravan guard in Hikeliar if she wanted. I told the orcs that my employer would be angry at what they were doing, and that she'd come after them if they kept it up."

It's not the story you'd use if you were actually trying to fool Khaytala. But you're not really trying to fool her. You're just letting her think you're trying to, while allowing her to digest the truth at her own pace. She already knows it's a lie. This is just the most honest lie you can tell her without forcing the issue.

"I... see." Khaytala's confusion only grows with your explanation. "But would your... employer... really be all right with you risking your life like that? Especially to help... someone like me?" To help one of the heroines trying to kill her, Khaytala means but doesn't say.

You respond with a warm smile. "Absolutely," you say. "I think she'd like you a lot, actually. She definitely wouldn't want you to die. No matter what."

That answer is something Khaytala doesn't know how to handle. She opens her mouth, trying to form a reply, but she can't think of what to say. She struggles to find the right words to react to the Witch Queen's concern for her safety... but before she can even come close, the doors to the town hall finally swing open, and the mass of villagers packed inside start to slowly filter out.

They shrink back a bit at the sight of a half-orc and a "tiefling", but you're able to reassure them without too much difficulty. Soon, many of them are sobbing with relief, mothers holding their children tight as they realize that they're going to survive after all.

Khaytala busies herself with organizing the villagers, working to put out the fires in the rest of the village and start the process of assessing the damage. Many of them are wary of her, but no one dares to gainsay one of their saviors who drove off an entire raiding party. Soon the caravan approaches as well, their scouts confirming that the orcs are still fleeing back toward Kovora like the hounds of hell were on their heels.

Once the fires are put out and the caravan finishes setting up camp nearby, you find yourself at a bit of a loose end. Khaytala is nowhere to be found; you suspect that she is avoiding you for the moment, while she tries to think through what this revelation means and what she ought to do about it. You don't mind; it's probably best to give her the space she needs to think it over.

Which means that for the rest of the afternoon, you are free to focus on other matters.

As you think about it, there are a number of different useful things you could do with the time. For one thing, you recall the caravan master's rabid distrust of you, and the problems that has caused so far. If he was already that worried about his daughter and a demonspawn, then you suspect hearing that you ordered around a raiding party of orcs—in orcish—will only make it worse. You could spy on him, figure out if he's planning anything against you. Perhaps you could even start working toward some leverage to make him more... compliant.

On the other hand, the assassin is still out there. The caravan scouts haven't noticed any sign of a hooded figure with a red scarf... but it occurs to you that rather than following the caravan, the assassin—or one of their agents—might have simply gone ahead to a location they knew the caravan would visit, a place where they could lose themselves in a larger group of people. You did hear someone mention that there were some travelers staying in the village; if you figured out who they were and then picked one of them to investigate, you might be able to gain an edge on an even more dangerous foe.

Then again, your true mission is still Khaytala. And while she may not be ready to talk yet, you could always prepare by looking for a gift that she might enjoy. The villagers could probably use some extra coin to help them rebuild, and you might be able to purchase something she would enjoy. You'd have to do some searching, though, and then decide which gift you think she'd like.