This is the twenty-sixth chapter of the Fang & Bone serial; click here to visit the previous installment of Fang of Triseria. Please share your thoughts on the story in the comments, or visit the project hub for more information.
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Previously on Fang & Bone, two brothers fight at a pyre meant for their mother, and their animosity spreads amongst the town of New Gordhurst, resulting in a riot.
By Erryl’s estimation, it had been about six hours on the road toward the old town of Gordhurst. This would have put them into the early afternoon, and judging by the light that came through the canopy of the gloomy forest, maybe about four hours before setting down for camp and to secure Fang, which was always a nerve-wracking proposition. Had they not been waylaid by the tremendous boar or curtailed by their client’s unsure pace, they might have cleared more ground. Provided there were no further distractions, they could reach Gordhurst by early afternoon tomorrow. But as the forest and sky had gradually shifted into a sickly green aura, the further they walked, he also knew that they were moving ever closer to the Necromancer’s territory and that anything could go wrong.
And now, he could already sense Corea’s question before she asked it.
“The sky is getting more and more green. Is that…?”
Erryl, who was walking behind her in a half-stride, crossed his arms as he answered her. “Yes, the influence of the Necromancer.”
“But why green?”
He hadn’t really considered the coloration of necromancy before.
“I suppose it is more sinister.”
“Huh?”
“I don’t really know, magic manifests in many colors, and that is like asking me why the sky is blue, or grass is green. Maybe there is some reason, but I would not know. Best to ask a wizard.”
“Do you know any wizards?”
Erryl grunted. “One.”
He saw Fang ahead, who had heard him and had been looking back. Fang grunted and shook his head. The Wolf would not care to elaborate, and that was just as fine for Erryl. It was apparent that Corea sensed something was off, and she chose not to pursue that subject further. But she was not exactly done, either.
“Do you know magic, Mr. Nick?”
Erryl pressed on, and as he nearly came upon her, hissed, urging her to pick up her pace.
“Yes, a little. Practical. Reagentry.”
“What does that mean?”
Erryl sighed. There was no end to this conversation in sight now, it seemed. He respected the girl’s innate curiosity and understood that this long walk with strangers was a great opportunity to learn more about the world, but he was never good with kids.
“Practical magic is magic that comes from the physical, such as reagents. Very few people can perform magic without a tangible, material focus. Usually, we use alchemy for that. Nearly anyone, with the right understanding, can perform feats of magic. But those who don’t need to labor at it are the truly powerful ones.”
The child was quiet for a moment, apparently taking in what he had said. He awaited her next question, but it did not come as quickly as he thought. Curious.
“Why do you ask, girl?”
Corea was still silent, trying to figure out what she wanted to say. Erryl gave her time, but continued to hiss as her pace faltered periodically. Ahead, Fang was still tuned into the surrounding forest, wary of scent, sound, or motion. Erryl wasn’t sure if Fang was aware his hackles were up, just above the lowered cloak where his substantial neck met his shoulders. In a way, that also made Erryl wary, and he continued to scout the area as he waited for Corea to reply.
“How do you know someone has a natural gift for magic?”
Erryl pondered the question, not quite sure what she was getting at. He responded as best he could with his own limited understanding.
“To be honest, there are a myriad of possible answers, but those individuals don’t tend to reveal much of themselves for various reasons. I don’t really know much about it myself. I guess a certain sensitivity and awareness might be a sign? I only know how to tap into it, but I imagine for someone with a gift, it is like being submerged in it. I’d imagine it could be a sensory nightmare. Overwhelming.”
Erryl pulled out a bit of saltpork from a pocket and took a bite, thinking further. Corea was quiet.
“Take, for example, here, these woods. I am positive these woods are awash in all sorts of foul magics. It’ll only grow worse as we reach the nexus of the Necromancer’s influence.” Corea’s pace had fallen back, and he had moved up next to her, leaning toward her, and gesturing ahead. “Our lupine friend ahead, he is of magic, and I am sure he senses something. The hackles there, on the back of his neck – they are raised. Born of a curse, I am sure he is sensitive to whatever may be awash in these woods. We’d be wise to heed his word if he notices anything.”
He looked toward Corea, smiling slightly, but noticed a slightly peaked pallor about the girl. As she stumbled, he caught her with his arm, holding up her weight on unsteady feet. Ahead, Fang had already stopped, staring directly at her, sword drawn and planted firmly in the dirt path. Erryl looked to the Wolf.
“Fang?”
“Felt a wash of necromancy. She did too.”
Erryl glanced down at Corea, who appeared dazed. He knelt and held her as steady as he could, but whatever Fang had noticed had clearly hit her unexpectedly. Another wrinkle in this tapestry, it seemed.
“Corea, how are you? What do you feel?”
“Dizzy.”
“Sit, please.”
Erryl guided her to the ground, as Fang watched from a distance. When she was sitting, Erryl rubbed her back between the shoulder blades. It was something he’d picked up on whenever Flint had an uneasy stomach. Corea groaned a bit, but her swaying began to stop, and soon she sat cross-legged, hunched over, breathing deeply. Fang had now approached and sat across from her, bastard sword across his lap, eyeing her with an intensity that bordered on suspicion.
Erryl tore a strip of the saltpork and nudged it toward her. She took it and ate it, still staring toward the earth.
“Tell us what happened,” Erryl asked as gently as he could muster.
…
She told them everything.
As Erryl took in her descriptions of colors and a shifting world, he marveled at what he envisioned. He also grew sour with envy. He craved knowledge and experience, and now there was something he might never be able to investigate for himself. Instead, this unique gift fell upon this child. He wallowed in the frustration, briefly, but let it wash over him, seeing her now so thoroughly unnerved by these past couple of hours. For her, it might be a burden; she may not want it, and in that there was a necessary sympathy for her.
He could never write the whole of existence and its every facet in a book, as much as he had been trying to with his countless journals. He’d be okay with that one day. But for now, he let the jealousy wither as he looked at young Corea.
“And you never knew?” he asked.
Corea shook her head. “It reminded me of dreams, but I don’t know if those count.”
“I am sure they do,” he said. “Dreams carry a lot of meaning. Some say they’re magic in purest form.”
Fang huffed. Erryl ignored it.
He watched Corea sip from a waterskin. She glanced nervously at Fang, who had now repositioned slightly to get a look at the road ahead, but not so much that he could not engage the others in conversation, of which he had done little so far, given the titanic revelation that had occurred.
“So, nobody knew? Your brother, grandmother, and Mr. Gorten didn’t know? Didn’t say anything?”
“I knew,” Fang added.
Erryl cast a sharp glance at Fang. “Come again?”
“I knew. Smelled magic on her at the stable. On the coin. Coin was rank with her will.”
Eyll was dumbfounded, looking at the Wolf, so casually sitting on the road, looking into the distance.
“And you chose not to tell me? Tell her?”
Fang looked back at Erryl and then to Corea. Her eyes were wide, and she was silent. He nodded. “I don’t spill secrets people likely don’t know they have.”
Erryl pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes, brow furrowed in contempt. “Godsdamn – ugh. Okay, I get it. Not happy about not having this information on hand, but I can understand why you said nothing. Now is the time for you to talk, then.” He was silent for a moment, and then added, “By the by… do you smell anything on me?”
“Ale and desperation.”
“Fuck you,” Erryl chuckled.
Corea still had her eyes locked on Fang and didn’t so much as smirk. They all sat in silence, and it was Fang who eventually broke the silence, speaking directly to her.
“This magic, it will hit like a sack of flour.” He hit his chest with an open palm, which made a meaty thump. “It can knock you down.”
He rubbed the hackles at the back of his neck, letting his digital pads rustle through the coarse fur. “You and I feel the same thing. You feel it now, don’t you?”
Corea nodded.
“It’s like smelling or hearing. A sense. You can use that. But it can’t be knocking you on your ass, either. It’s like taking a whiff of something foul.”
“How do I get better at resisting it?”
Fang was silent for a moment, contemplating. His reply was simple: “Don’t know. Be less small.”
Corea’s brow furrowed, and she leaned toward him, annoyed. “What?”
“I’m hundreds of pounds. Not much knocks me over.”
“I’m just a child.”
“Children grow. You’re strong. You can be stronger.”
“I suppose it is just another thing you will need to work on as we go,” Erryl added, “Unless?”
Corea’s eyes darted between them. Erryl seemed curious while Fang was silent and determined.
“No,” was all Fang said.
“But you did have a way to contact him, yes?”
Fang said nothing and rose to his feet, walking down the path. Erryl rose to his feet and extended his hand to Corea, who took it.
“I suppose that is an issue for another time,”
He helped her up.
“What is?” she asked.
“It’s an issue for another time,” Erryl said flatly.
…
Erryl had been surprised by the lack of the undead thus far. Despite the expanse of green that hung over the sky and colored the world in a sickly olive haze, most obstacles had been of the natural world. While not questioning the power of the Necromancer, having seen their putrid work a day earlier, the general feeling Erryl carried was one of suspicion. Not seeing the roving dead, especially in such demarcated territory, meant there was something at play that he did not know. And Erryl did not like not knowing something. It was truly the most abject sensation he could think of.
Fang and now Corea, in a surprise turn, however, felt it. They felt the presence of necromantic magic beyond the immediate, and it had a clear effect on them both. All Erryl could do was rely on them for any signs of the dead, he assumed, outside of his own not unimpressive natural senses and awareness. But that was nothing compared to magic and bitter bites of envy nipped at the back of his mind.
As he came to terms with his limitations and the slights that fate had conspired against him, Fang’s sudden stopping and sniffing gave the trio pause.
“Smell the dead. Hear movement.” The Wolf glanced back at them. “One moving. Another not,” he added.
‘Lead the way,” Erryl gestured with his hand.
Fang lowered his body and slowed his gait, letting his senses guide him. Erryl and Corea followed as silently as they could off the road that led toward the old town. After a couple of minutes, they found a small clearing between trees where they came upon a ghoul that was tearing pieces from a corpse. Both corpses, the moving and the still, wore the cobbled-together look of guardsmen from New Gordhurst.
Erryl leaned toward Corea and whispered to her. “Do you recognize them?”
Corea squinted and was silent for a moment. She nodded. “The one being… taken apart. That was Maervin. He was an ass to me, but…”
Erryl placed a hand on her shoulder. “Listen. This is your chance to bring one down. We’ll be here to make sure you do not get hurt. Won’t we, friend?”
Erryl nodded toward Fang, and Corea looked at the Wolf, who nodded, eyes still locked on the grim scene. He said nothing.
“You need to destroy the brains of these things. I’ll leave it to you to decide how you’ll do this. Go, now. Before it senses us.”
Corea looked Erryl up and down, and he stared back at her, his brow furrowed. He would say no more. It was on her, now. And, to her credit, she drew the largest blade she had – the curved one – and began to step slowly into the small clearing. Erryl crept closer to Fang as he watched.
“Be ready on a moment’s notice. Hopefully, she has some skill.”
Fang replied, “I’m always ready,” with a flattened intonation, clearly engrossed in the unfolding scene.
The ghoul pulling Maervin’s head from his body was unexpected, and the brutality of it caused the poor girl to yelp as soon as she saw it. Erryl scratched nervously at an eyebrow as he watched her lose the element of surprise. She’d need to think on her feet, now, provided she was not too horrified by seeing a partial spine trailing beneath the dead man’s head like some grotesque tadpole tail.
Corea had stopped moving and planted her feet apart, for stability, and raised the blade before her, with both hands wrapped around the handle. Erryl would have preferred she’d gone to knock the ghoul down, but stable footing was also a valid choice – just not what he’d have done in this instance.
The ghoul, now, had begun to turn to her, still clutching the head of Maervin. Corea maintained her footing for only a moment before stepping back and dropping the blade, overwhelmed with apparent, sudden terror.
“Shit,” Erryl breathed.
He stood up, hesitant to move forward. She could still salvage this.
“Pick up the blade, Corea, now!”
But she didn’t move beyond fearful tremors, and Erryl grunted, sweeping in as the ghoul approached the child. She did not fall back, and she made no noise, only staring at the abomination that was sure to strike her if she did nothing.
As the ghoul’s free arm rose, Erryl watched, hoping she would do something. He was desperate for it, even as he cleared the distance. But still, nothing from her. And as the ghoul began to bring its horrid hand upon her, Erryl swept in, rapier drawn, piercing the left eye socket and flicking the point within the cavity until the ghoul dropped the severed head and finally collapsed.
It was only then that Corea moved, and it was to run to Fang, who seemed rather struck by her willingness to come to him. She hid behind his massive form and began to cry. The Wolf stared blankly at Erryl as the girl buried her face into his furry arm.
Erryl flicked the blade with a fluid swish and slid it back into his scabbard. He let out a sigh and looked at the two bodies. He turned to her, still cowering behind the Wolf.
“You’ll never survive at this rate,” he grumbled. “They’re abominations. Dead flesh as puppets. You destroy them, or they destroy you, Corea.”
He stepped closer to Corea, who was still behind a crouched Fang. Fang’s eyes were wide, and his expression was one of utter bewilderment, unsure of what to do.
Erryl raised his voice as he approached. “You can’t let fear stop you. You can be afraid, but-”
“I’m not scared!”
Erryl paused, shocked at the outburst and the childishness of it all. “Of course you were afraid, girl! Don’t lie and say you were not! I won’t play games with you, and Fang much less, so. You need to grow up.”
“Erryl.” Fang shook his head. Had he gone soft?
“I thought you’d be on my side!” Erryl said with sudden exasperation.
Corea began sobbing. Erryl rolled his eyes and stepped back to the corpses, furious. He stared at the slain ghoul.
“I wasn’t afraid,” she continued. “It’s just that it was Mr. Donnel and he was always nice to me and Garen…”
Erryl took in the thin face of what seemed like any other hardscrabble peasant that lived in isolation. A twinge of recognition tugged at the back of his mind, of similar folk he’d known. He cut that from his mind, turning back to her. By now, Fang had risen to his feet and stepped apart from her, clearly unsure of what his role was here.
“That could just as easily have been your brother, you know?” Erryl fumed. “You forced yourself into our task, and we are not nursemaids. In the moment it is to destory or to be destroyed. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
“Do you? If this is how you react to seeing a friend’s face on a rotting shambler, I am terrified to know what will happen should we find young Garen in such a state.”
“Enough!” Fang barked. It was so loud it likely carried a mile in all directions, even through the trees.
“Excuse me, Wolf?”
“She knows. She knows, Barber.”
“I’m not going to – you didn’t want her with us either!” Erryl yelled, annoyed.
Fang was silent for a moment, contemplating. Corea had stood quietly, her gaze averted from them both. Eryll waited for some sort of reply.
“Flint.” Fang’s voice was a soft growl, as soft has he could likely muster.
Erryl had not expected that. He took a sudden breath, like he had forgotten how to breathe on his own and had to course-correct.
“Don’t you fucking dare, Wolf.”
Fang did not change his posture. He looked at Erryl, adding, “A lot of loss for one so small. I’ve heard you in the small hours. You carry him. She’s carrying her own.”
Erryl was quiet for a moment. He looked at her, one day to be a woman, only now no more than a handful of years into her adolescence. He noticed she had stopped crying, but she couldn’t bear to look at him. Now, in turn, he felt a sudden embarrassment in being perceived by her. He’d lost Flint as a young man and had found no other since. He’d suffered his loss and did not permit the possibility of more. There was no sign of her losses coming to an end in the foreseeable future.
Fang stomped off toward a tree to lean against it. He looked back to Corea for a moment as he spoke. “She’ll grow. But growing up is hard to do. We don’t need to make it harder.”
The fucking audacity of the beast, Erryl thought. “I hate it when you’re right,” he grunted.
“Must be tough on you, then. What with me right all the time?” Fang muttered.
With that, Fang had already caught a scent and began peering around, back on the alert. That, of course, left Erryl to the sensitive task ahead. Unfavorable and awkward. He plucked her blade from the earth and approached her. She was still looking anywhere but in his direction.
He turned the blade to her, handle-first. He did not say anything. She drew it from him and tucked it into her wooden scabbard. She looked at him for a moment, still visibly upset, which was to be expected. But her countenance changed to one of confusion and fear as she looked past him.
“Corea?”
She said nothing at first, still staring at something, and growing increasingly uneasy. Erryl glanced back over his shoulder but nothing had caught his eye. Finally, she spoke.
“Do you see that girl?” she asked.
Erryl turned around, trying to trace the point where she had been gazing, but saw nothing but trees. “What girl?” He was feeling uneasy.
“The one about my age… looking there, at the body of Mr. Donnel.”
Fang had returned to the clearing, and Erryl noticed the Wolf’s hackles extended, more so than they had been in the last hour. The Wolf began to stare in the same direction, like a farm hound aware of something in the area. Erryl looked up and took in the sickly green sky just through the canopy. The veil is thin, he mused.
With a practiced, calm pace, he knelt and removed his bag, opening it and fishing through for the supplies he needed. After a few moments, he was smearing a poultice made of key herbs and his own blood around a glass lens. He projected his desire to see all the while. When he felt a pop in his head, he took the lens and peered in the direction that Corea had been staring this whole time.
Corea was right about there being a girl about her age. She had been inspecting the remains, not paying attention to the trio before her. Fang had begun growling, not seeing something, but knowing something was present. Corea was silent as the grave.
“Is one of you going to talk to me?” the ghost asked.
Click here to visit the project hub for Fang of Triseria; click here to read the next installment of Fang & Bone.
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