Lady of Poison

CHAPTER 4

Yhe crash of metal and a gurgling roar startled Marrec from reverie. He hadn’t gone more than a mile since leaving Fullpoint behind. Thrusting aside the forest growth without further regard for stealth, Marrec rushed forward several dozen feet. His dash ended as he broke out of the trees into a shaded glade.

He arrived in time to witness Gunggari slam his warclub into a rot fiend’s head. The blighted creature was one of half a dozen more pustule-ridden forest folk assembled in the glade in various postures, all inimical, though a few lay unmoving near Gunggari. Glad though he was to see his friend, his eyes darted past the Oslander. Standing plain as day was a massive lion-like beast whose skin was so encrusted with fungus that it seemed a shade of green. Marrec estimated that the lion stood six feet tall at the shoulder. The beast screamed, giving voice to the same shattering roar that Marrec had first heard. It was rooting after something caught in the bole of a large tree.

“By the Circle of Leth, you shall not have her!” called out a female voice.

A woman in warrior’s garb dropped into view from above the dire beast, swinging a leaf-shaped blade. She had been hiding in the tree. Her fall was purposeful; she struck the fungal lion a nasty blow with her blade as she fell past. Her precipitous drop ended in an expert roll that not only cushioned her impact but also put her just out of range of the beast’s first claw swipe. Marrec didn’t know who the woman was, but she already had his respect.

Then he saw the little girl behind the tree. She had to be Hemish’s foundling, Ash.

Marrec bolted forward, trying to skirt the volodnis. Gunggari would be able to deal with them. He hoped. Marrec doubted that the valorous woman would do as well against the savage beast without some help. It was his cue to act.

A bolt of black rot diverted Marrec. One of the rot fiends was tossing around potent magic. The bolt missed, striking an old tree stump. The stump immediately began to rot and molder. Marrec hoped the courageous woman could hold out a few more seconds against the beast. He first had to deal with the blighted forest creature that was versed in sorcery, and not a pleasant sort of sorcery.

He pointed his spear at the one who’d cast the enchantment his way, saying, “Leave, and we’ll let you go without harm.”

The one he pointed to sneered, breaking open a fluid-filled boil on its face as it did so. “It is you who should leave. We require the Horned Aspect. Lest blight take you, deliver her!”

Horned Aspect? He’d worry about that later. Too many names to match up with faces, though he wondered if the creature referred to Ash. He decided that his job of the moment was to see that the sorcerer ate its words.

Almost of its own accord, Justlance took flight. He knew even as the shaft left his grasp that it would speed true. He had just time enough to see the sorcerer’s filmy eyes widen before another volodni knocked him to his knees with a blow from behind. Where’d that little stinker come from?

He tried to spin around and back, though it was difficult on his knees. His immediate aggressor clutched an iron-headed mace. It grinned. “Too bad you had to kill Molkai,” it said, gesturing to where the sorcerer volodni was pinned to a tree by Justlance. “Now I kill you, easy.”

The mace-wielder had no way of knowing Marrec’s secret, so when the rot fiend’s triumphant charge ended suddenly on the point of Justlance, its look of surprise before it expired was absolutely justified. An instant prior to stopping the charge, Justlance left the quivering body of the nearby volodni sorcerer. His spear could never be parted from its owner for long.

Gunggari had about mopped up the last of the remaining volodnis. Marrec levered himself to his feet and looked for Ash… Ah! The child still sheltered partly behind the roots of the large tree. Ash’s unknown female protector was also still in the game, rushing in to hack at the fungal lion, then dancing away just in time to avoid a lethal claw swipe. If the creature hadn’t been so focused on going back for the child, Marrec wondered if the woman would have fared so well. Each time it broke off its pursuit of the woman, she slashed it again with her blade. Still, she was obviously tired, while the greened lion seemed as strong as ever despite several lines of its own blood on its sides and some quantity of the same squalid fluid the volodnis leaked.

“Let’s get the cat, Gunggari!” shouted Marrec as he dashed in on the lion’s flank.

The woman heard him, too. As he came up behind and to one side of the lion and gave it a good jab with his spear, she closed on the opposite side, her leaf-shaped sword stabbing and slashing. The lion turned and swatted at him with a huge claw, green with rot, but he got out of the way. The woman got in another few telling blows, taking advantage of the creature’s divided attention.

Gunggari finally showed up, his dizheri soaked and matted with evidence of its recent work. He swung it around with both hands, connecting solidly with the side of the creature’s head. It yelped, blinking, and shook its head.

“It’s dazed,” yelled the woman. “Finish it!”

Marrec didn’t need to be told twice. He and Justlance got to work. With another mighty bash from the dizheri, the lion collapsed, unmoving.

In the ensuing quiet, Marrec and Gunggari eyed the woman. Dressed in sturdy brown and green leathers, she looked like she was more than at home in the forest. Of course! Her thin build and elongated featuresshe was an elf, though her hair hid the most telltale sign.

Marrec said to her, across the length of the unmoving lion, “I am Marrec. Gunggari,” he inclined his head toward the Oslander, “and I chased these monsters down. They kidnapped a child from a village they attacked.” He gestured back toward the girl. “Her father will be overjoyed to discover your part in saving her. Thank you.”

The elf smiled in acknowledgement but said nothing. She looked over to where Ash sheltered.

Ash had left the tree’s shadow and walked tentatively up to join them. All eyes fixed on the frail girl dressed in a simple peasant dress.

The girl glanced at each of them for a second, and said, “Ash.”

She looked to be between four and five years of age.

The unicorn warrior looked the child over for injuries. She seemed unscratched. Poor little tyke. He ruffled Ash’s hair. The girl merely looked at him, staying silent.

No doubt she was still frightened by her recent kidnapping. He felt an instant fatherly affection for her, partly because he couldn’t help identifying with her. They were both orphans, though of course he wondered if her actual origin could be as strange as his own.

“What did she say?” wondered the elf.

“Ash is her name,” indicated Marrec, looking to the girl then back to the woman.

The elf figured out his unspoken question. She smiled again and raised her sword to her brow, as if a salute. “I am Elowen. I am a Nentyar hunter in service with the Circle of Leth. I’ve been trailing these volodnis for some time, trying to find out more about their recent incursions.”

Marrec was unfamiliar with most of those names. He decided to pursue the rot fiend topic. “They look like volodnis of which I’ve heard, but there is something wrong with these,” he said, pointing at the corpses.

“Yes,” continued Elowen. “These poor creatures suffer from an infection of body and mind. When unaflicted, we call them the pine folk, too. They normally live in the Lethyr Forest, the Rawlinswood, and the forests of Rashemen. These are a fair bit south of their natural ranges.”

“I’ve heard of volodnis but never seen them before,” responded Marrec. “I’ve heard that they can be vengeful protectors of the forest. Perhaps the people of Ash’s village somehow riled them up?”

Elowen rubbed her jaw and said, “Well, they can be antagonistic to the ‘warm folk’ as they call us. But I assure you, as a servant of the Nentyarch, I’ve dealt several times with volodnis, and none are like these. Volodnis do not normally rot as if dead but continue to draw breath. These are…”

“They are evil,” finished Gunggari.

She nodded, then looked to Gunggari and back to Marrec. “If you haven’t seen volodnis before, you must come from far away.”

She grinned, looking again at Gunggari. “Especially you.”

The Oslander offered a tiny smile back at her, said, “Far, far to the south was my home. Where I come from, everything is different. I am an explorer.”

“Indeed. And you?” Her gaze was back on Marrec.

Marrec answered, “I hail from the west, where I serve the goddess Lurue. I am here because… this child is somehow important to the goddess, though I have as yet no understanding of how that could be.”

Elowen rubber her palms together. “Let us compare stories, and perhaps some pieces may come together for all of us.”

“Great. Let’s start with why you were trailing these creatures,” said Marrec.

Elowen replied, “As I said, this rot is not something volodnis have exhibited before. As an agent of Leth, it is my job to protect the forests for the Nentyarch. If the volodnis are suffering from disease or have leagued with evil, I need to know. That’s why I’m here following this particular group. Plus, I have a friend up in Two Stars who promised to help me out. She owes me.”

“Whoa… slow down,” said Marrec. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Explain it to me as if I were a complete stranger to your land.” He let a smile touch his lips.

“Sure. The Forest of Lethyr to the northwest of here is home to the followers of the Nentyarch. The Nentyarch is a very, very powerful druid, and he and his followers are collectively known as the Circle of Leth…”

“And the Nentyar hunters serve the Circle, right?” guessed Marrec.

“Right. I’m a hunter. We’re a group made up of rangers, scouts, and warriors. We carry out the commands of the druid circle voluntarily, for the good of the forest. When we join in service, we swear to defend the great forests and do the Nentyarch’s bidding.”

“My goddess Lurue has often found common ground with druids,” offered Marrec.

“Her name is one honored by the Circle, I’ve heard. What brings a servant of Lurue so far east?”

“Her silence,” muttered the cleric.

Elowen waited for more.

“Something is not right with Lurue. I’ve been following portents, looking for a promised Child of Light who will… somehow make things right. I think Ash is the child, but now that I’ve found her, I’m not sure what to do next.”

Gunggari said, “These evil pine men are caught up in Ash’s fate and maybe Lurue’s. If we discover the pine men’s interest, maybe we can find out why she’s important to Lurue.”

“A lot of maybes,” opined Marrec, “but I have nothing better to go on. Ash is not talking at the moment.” He patted the mute child on the head. “We need to find out more about these blighted volodnisthese rot fiends.” He looked back at Elowen.

“Agreed,” said Elowen. “You are welcome to join me to see my friend in Two Stars. She is an adept of many lores, and she may know something about these volodnis. Then I must report back to the Nentyarch. It’s been too long since I’ve gone back… but Ususi should be consulted, now that we have this new information in hand.”

“Ususi is your friend?”

“Ususi Manaallin. She also hails from a place far distant from here. She came here long ago, and her knowledge of certain mystical sites of the forest is unsurpassed, even by the Nentyarch himself. She knows the Mucklestones especially well.”

“Why do we care about mucklestones?” wondered Marrec.”Because, these blighted volodnis I have been following issued from that ancient site just over a month ago. I witnessed their departure. Of late, I’ve spent much time in the vicinity of the Mucklestones…” The elf smiled fondly as if over some personal memory. “Anyway, something evil has taken root in the Mucklestones, and of all the people I know, Ususi best knows the Mucklestones. She has made their study her work.”

“Exactly where are the Mucklestones located?” asked Marrec, that time pronouncing the name with the proper gravity. The place seemed like it must be important and perhaps somehow connected to Ash, and if so, then also to Lurue.

“They are at the northeastern tip of the Forest of Le-thyr. The city of Two Stars is not too far out of the way, if the Mucklestones prove to be our eventual destination.”

Marrec considered, still standing close to the child. The girl looked at him, saying nothing, and reacting not at all to the field of slain creatures around her. If Ash truly was the Child of Light, whatever the true significance of that name, and if the volodnis were after her because of it, she wouldn’t be safe back in her village. She’d be safest with him, Gunggari, and perhaps with the hunter Elowen. After all, Elowen had already saved Ash once.

Marrec decided. “Gunggari, we’re going to Two Stars. Ash is going with us.”

“What about the peasant, Hemish?” wondered the tattooed soldier. “He will want his daughter back.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll go back and satisfy Hemish that the girl will be safest in our care. If he truly wants what’s best for the child’s welfare, he’ll allow her to remain with us. It may be that Ash is blessed with a secret, perhaps even the secret behind Lurue’s silence.”

It was decided. Elowen indicated she’d accompany him and Gunggari back to Fullpoint, being grateful for their help in slaying the evil pine folk, and hopeful that their involvement might aid her efforts in the future.

The blightlord laughed as the druid’s screams bellowed forth. The druid, named Briartan, was convulsed with pain, though his strength was sufficient to keep the blightlord’s awful infection at bay.

Still chuckling, the dark figure regarded Briartan where the druid was impaled, a metal stake puncturing the palm of each hand so that the druid hung against one of the sacred obelisks of the stone circle. Though a filigree of rot frosted the stone all around the druid, Briartan’s body remained uninfected, if bloody.

The blightlord, named Gameliel, asked “Still resist, do you? It matters not, really. I already know everything you are trying so hard to avoid telling me.” So saying, the figure extended the night black haft of its horrible weapon and gently lifted the necklace bearing the Keystone from around Briartan’s head.

The druid kicked out with his leg, striking his evil tormenter in his armored chest. “You can’t have it, Gameliel.”

The blightlord snarled. Gameliel lashed forward with the weapon’s void-dark blade. He severed Briartan’s offending leg with a single swipe.

The severed limb slid limply down the stone slab from which Briartan still dangled, pumping blood. The druid’s scream ripped forth once more, echoing among the encircling stones, but dying away to nothing in the branches of the surrounding forest.

A new master ruled the Mucklestones.

‹§›SSS S amp;

Back in Fullpoint, Hemish proved difficult to persuade.

“Are you joking, man? Leave my daughter in your care? I thank you for returning her, but after all, you are a stranger to me and her!” yelled Hemish.

Marrec, sitting across the table from Hemish, studied the dancing flame of the single lamp hanging above the table. He and Hemish had gone back and forth for some time, but it didn’t feel like he was getting through to the man. The child Ash sat in a small chair nearby, her legs dangling above the floor, a stuffed toy languishing in her lap as she stared straight ahead at a sight only she could see.

Marrec leaned toward the peasant and said, “Listen. Can’t you see that this is not a singular occurrence? If it happened once, it could happen again, and we won’t be here next time to save her.”

Hemish glowered and muttered, “How many times can a man’s child be taken? The odds were long to begin with. Lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice.”

The cleric sighed, shaking his head. “Trueif this were only a random occurrence. Haven’t you heard a thing I’ve said? I believe these tree people were specially seeking Ash. They didn’t succeed. That means they’ll try again. And again and again until they finally get what they’re after. My friends and I cannot stay here to guard here night and daywe have business in Two Stars. If you truly care for the safety of your daughter, you’d wipe the sentiment from your eyes and see the truth. Allow me to protect her. I swear I’ll guard her as my own.”

Hemish took one of the girl’s unresponsive arms in his own. He looked into Ash’s eyes, and said, “Is that all right with you, baby? Do you want to go with this man? You’ll be safe. Tell me what you want.”

The girl intoned, “Ash.”

Hemish’s eyes brimmed. He patted the girl’s hand then caught Marrec’s eyes with his own. “You swear on your service to your goddess that you will keep Ash safe from all harm?”

Marrec rose, drew Justlance and held it before him. He said, “I swear, upon Lurue’s name, that I shall guard Ash with all my ability, keeping her safe from harm. She will be more dear to me than my own life. I so swear.”

Hemish sighed. After a minute of silence he said, “Very well, cleric. I must trust you, it seems.”

Marrec reached out and clasped Hemish’s hand. He said, “You are making the right choice. Don’t worry.”

Really, there could be no other outcome.

They spent the night in Fullpoint. In the morning, Marrec, Gunggari, Elowen, and Ash departed. Much of the village was gathered to see off the heroes who had defended the town from the “raiding tree people.” Many did not understand why Ash was departing, too. Few seemed unduly upset by it save, of course, for a tearful Hemish.

When all the goodbyes were said, they headed out. Elowen led the group northeast. Their destination was Two Stars. Marrec’s single hope was that Elowen’s friend might shed light on the question of Ash’s identity. What was the significance of the Child of Light, and how had the volodnis fallen into the clasp of evil?

Joining the militia seemed to be one of the best moves of Marrec’s young life. He reveled in the weapon drills, the warrior’s training, and the endless mock duels with the other young men of the village with similar hearts.

Not so Emmon. Though quick enough with his wits, Marrec’s stepbrother wasn’t too swift when it came to arms and armor. The drilling required of all those in the militia made little dent in Emmon’s inability to properly wield a sword. Emmon and Marrec were thick; Marrec helped Emmon perfect his skills, while Emmon was happy just to be around Marrec. They were friends.

When not training in the militia, Marrec and Emmon enjoyed taking short walks outside of the village, to the edges of the forest and sometimes past. The two boys made a contest of who would be the first to sight some small game animal, tree, or other interesting feature of the Wild. They had a favorite haunt near the edge of the river, where a small cave provided the perfect hide-out from adults and the responsibilities expected of those coming of age.

The raids started around that time.

Horrible creatures out of the wild found the village, and for reasons of their own, they decided it would make an ideal target of terrorism and piracy. The raiders were a tribe of brutish, manlike ogres who called themselves the Durang, after their leader. Not interested in concessions, the Durang launched a career of attacks on the town. At first just outlying farms were hit, but it was clear that the Durang were intent on striking to the very heart of the village, and soon.

So it was time for the militia to do the job it had trained for. Defend the village. Marrec looked forward to the coming encounter with a strange, tight feeling in his stomach. He looked forward to being tested in actual battle, yet he was nervous. He didn’t let that show to his comrades, who were all outwardly afraid. Emmon put on a brave face, but Marrec knew his brother well enough to know that on the inside, Emmon was just this side of fleeing for all he was worth.

The crash on the hastily-constructed palisade wall signaled that the time for wondering was past. It was time to fight.

Another crash, and the Durang were through. Some of his fellow militiamen were stunned, thinking that the barrier should have lasted longer. No time for that. Yellow-skinned brutes with thick, warty skin boiled in through the breach. Marrec was among the few brave enough to meet the initial onslaught. He had chosen a spear, which he judged he could use more profitably against the eight-foot-tall Durang. Plus, ever since the incident with bear in the woods, Marrec simply preferred the spear.

A particularly ill-kempt brute with greasy hair charged him, brandishing a great club of splintered wood. Marrec felt fear melt away before the immediacy of his predicament. Fear would only get in the way of the actions he must take in order to survive.

He ducked under the monster’s first swing, jumped up instantly and drove his spear into the Durang’s temple. Just like that, the creature was vanquished. Marrec yelled in jubilation, wrenching his spear free from the carcass.

“Who’s next? he wondered.

Things weren’t going nearly so well for the rest of the militiamen. Even one Durang was a match for two or three humans, and there were at least eight ogres by Marrec’s count. Over to his left, the drillmaster Rimmard stood his ground well enough, but everywhere else the Durang encroached. Not a single militiaman was uninjured, except for himself and maybe Rimmard.

His eyes found Emmon. His half-brother lay twisted, unmoving, his broken sword several feet from his splayed grip. “Emmon?” Marrec rushed to the body of his stepbrother.

Emmon was dead.

Rage took Marrec. The boy felt his own humanity splinter and fall away, as if it were snake skin. His eyes had started burning the moment the attack began. Seeing his dead brother, it felt as if the very orbs were afire. Marrec screamed, clutching his head with both hands. His head felt molten, and his eyes brimmed with the blaze inside.

Why not let the anger out? something whispered. Why not?

Marrec allowed his hands to fall away from his head. Despite the pain, his gaze was infused with a deadly clarity. As if burrowing a channel in the air with his gaze, he unleashed the fury within at the ogre nearest the fallen body of Emmon, but the ogre was not burned.

It was turned to stone.

A great hush extended from the first unmoving ogre, growing in radius like a rock dimples a pond, ever-widening as defenders and ogres alike paused to see what had occurred. A long sigh was heard, or maybe it was a collective gasp of fear from villagers and attackers, as startled eyes alighted on Marrec then flinched quickly away.

Then the remaining raiders were running, running from his invincible gaze. He cared not. He was in a swoon of anger and loss.

Emmon still lay dead at Marrec’s feet. His gaze was spent, and the fury subsided to a dull ache deep within his head. All was silent. Villager gazes continued to scatter away from him like water on a hot skillet, afraid to commit. A murmur of astonishment grew, but more than just astonishment, there was also fear. Fear of him. The freak. The monster.

So he was. The bitter truth was apparent to all. The townspeople wanted nothing more to do with him, despite his victory over the Durang. His blood was tainted with an unknown but likely devilish power, he was told. He was outcast, even by his own family.

So it was that Marrec fled into the Wild.