What Horrors Did You Endure Before?
“…going to ram this right up the arse of that disgusting D’vorgthing that threw this at me!”
Anger was pulsating through Yohaynn almost as much as pain was. He used one of his remaining insect-like legs to grip the bony, serrated spear that had caused him to fall and (for the second time!) began the long, slow climb back up to where he had fallen from in the first place. He had miraculously managed to save his own life at the very last moment when he caught the spear with all his good legs. This had severely slowed the heavy spear’s momentum and successfully prevented it from blasting its way completely through his body. After that, he managed to steer the pointed tip into the side of the narrow crevasse as he fell and used it like a break against the bark to slow his descent.
He kept on climbing despite the anguish his cracked ribs kept causing him every time he breathed or moved, and his forearms were so sore from the pounding they had endured from the putrid D’vorgthing he had eventually hacked into so many gory pieces with such satisfaction. His back felt like it was broken too. It wasn’t. He hoped. But it sure felt that way.
The inside of his skull is what concerned him most at the moment, though. Things inside there felt… odd. His brain seemed to be sloshing around in hot liquid behind the backs of his burning eyes and it was hard for him to think straight (or sideways) and he found it almost impossible to stay focused on any thought for too long without suffering from a horrible headache. All he wanted to do was lie down and rest for a spell.
I’m sure a short nap will make me feel better, he told himself. How in the wuld could it make me feel worse?
Still, he thought his ears could hear a distant but persistent voice that was warning him not to go to sleep so soon. You might never wake up again, it whispered. There was something familiar about the voice. It was not his own voice. It was not that frightful Foslov either. This other voice sounded genuinely concerned about his well-being, which unnerved him enough in its own out of place way to keep him fighting to stay awake for the time being.
As much as he was worried about himself, he was more worried about his friends. Something VERY bad has happened to them or Gar would have been here to help me by now. Then he remembered that a different bony spear had struck Gar down. My hurting head must have been keeping that horrible secret to itself for my sake.
Yohaynn was not sure what he was going to do if Gar was dead. The D’vorg was the only real friend he had ever had and he was overcome with grief just imagining what his life would be like if he could never see or speak to Gar again. Well, he would not really have to imagine too much. Life would be just like it was before he had met Gar and… No. It would be much, much worse, of course. Before I met him, I could not even imagine what it might feel like to have or lose a friend because I never had one to begin with.
Gar was still alive. He had to be. But I know that spear struck him down. As despair settled in the pit of his stomach, he prayed to all the gods and Others that Gar was all right. So many of the words I said to him were meaningless or misguided, he thought. But I swear I have many significant ones to share, and all I ask is that You give me the opportunity to say them to him.
And what about Rose and Smyte? They were both safe the last time he saw them, but what in the wuld had happened to those two since he unceremoniously left them in this insanely dangerous place?
As he kept climbing agonizingly slowly, there were several times he almost swooned and dropped to his death. Somehow, he managed to keep himself awake (and alive) when that happened by jabbing the barbed end of one of his insect-like legs into the raw wound where his fourth one had been before Wylum accidentally severed it with the sword and the excruciating pain kept him conscious.
He actually found that kind of funny. Wylum still has no idea I have insect-like legs or that he cut one of them clean off. Then he realized that Wylum might well be a lifeless mass of mangled bones at the bottom of some black crevasse and no longer felt like laughing. Besides, he might have tried to cut all of my good legs off if he had known they were there.
“If you are lucky, life is lightning quick.” That is what he had once overheard a weeping old man with one arm and leg say to himself in front of a lopsided gravestone. And I was hiding right behind it while the steady rain washed both our tears away. Yohaynn sighed and prayed for Wylum too.
When he finally reached the summit of his grueling ascent his bruised and bleeding body squirmed out of the crevasse like a drenched worm that had nearly drowned in soaked soil. He immediately started to drift off to splendid sleep as he stretched out on the pockmarked bark. Maybe it was safe for him to nod off now. There was no danger of him falling anymore, and it would feel sooo godsdamn good to get away from all the pain, but before he could fade away any further that somewhat familiar voice shouted, STAY AWAKE AT ALL COSTS.
He immediately jabbed the barbed end of a good leg into the open wound where the other one used to be and screamed—but he was instantly as wide awake as anyone ever could be, and thought about those bony spears. They can kill me easily because I am out in the open and completely exposed. He had to shove that morbid image out of his mind, though. If another spear soared out of the shadows and impaled him to the bark, so be it. There was absolutely nothing he could do about that now in his sorry condition.
His three straight legs were utterly exhausted, so this forced him to crawl off on his two twisted ones as best he could. He headed towards the only thing he could see, which was a flickering little flame in the uncertain distance that looked like a lonely star in an otherwise pitch-black sky. It has to be one of our torches that fell during the fight, he thought, and hoped he was right. If this is a trap, I am dragging myself right to my executioners’ doorstep.
As he crawled on, he discovered dead bodies in the darkness and held his breath while his trembling fingers touched them. It was fairly easy for him to determine whether or not the bodies he found belonged to Rose or Smyte, but it was harder for him to rule out Gar. His friend and those awful D’vorgthings were similar in size and shape, but Gar was not naked and slimy like they were, and his ruined eye was covered with that hard patch of gold powder. This made these miserable inspections much easier, and Yohaynn was relieved beyond belief when he found out that none of his friends were there among the dearly departed. Well, my friends are dear to me, he thought, not these awful D’vorgthings.
After all that, he crept close enough to the light to see it was indeed emanating from one of their abandoned torches and let his battered face bask in the faint warmth of the flames while he waited with bated breath for a spear to soar out of the shadows and split his skull in half. None did, and he could hardly believe it. He wanted to hug the torch as soon as he came within arm’s reach of it because he was so happy to be so near real light again—but he did not dare do it.
All I shall succeed in doing is hug the poor thing to death, and I need the light to find our pack of supplies that is hidden somewhere in all of this surrounding blackness. He also knew that if he didn’t find the pack before this fading torch died out on its own he would probably never be able to ignite another.
It seemed like it took his sluggish mind a long time to decide upon a direction in which to begin his search. Unfortunately, time was of the essence, since he was not sure how long he could continue on. And if his friends were still alive, he had to find them fast and help them stay that way. In a moment of madness, he almost called out to them, but managed to stop himself before he made a sound. What if they are hiding in some safe place and our enemies are waiting for me to draw them out into the open? That explains why I have not been skewered by a spear yet.
So, that settled that. He would not let himself be the lure on his enemies’ homicidal line, but he also knew that he could not stay idle or forever silent either. I will have to take a risk at some point if I want a reward. Any bad guys who are hiding here already know I am here too, but my missing friends might not. The trick was making sure his friends stayed safe until it was completely safe for them to come out again. If his companions were not safe, or saved…Yohaynn shivered to think what would happen to everyone without them.
He used one of his knives to cut a long piece of cloth from the bottom of his big cloak and fed it to the famished flame, which immediately burned brighter. He knew this would not last long, though. I must find that pack, he told himself as he limped over to the nearest dead D’vorgthing and steered the fiery torch into its feet. Something about the way the lifeless toes refused to recoil from the flames made him queasy, and when he got a whiff of the fetid smoke that rose from the old, lesion infested flesh he did get sick. Afterwards, he pinched his nose closed and tried to understand why this D’vorgthing’s skin was not burning.
Ah! They are all smeared with that unburnable black slime, he remembered.
As he studied the ugly corpse with slightly sympathetic eyes, they suddenly grew wide when he realized one of his small knives was buried in its swollen throat. He gazed at the fiend he had felled with a bit more sympathy than before and thought, What horrors did you endure before and after Foslov made you this detestable D’vorgthing? He knew that he would have suffered a similar fate if his friends had not intervened on his behalf and gave his victim a grave smile. I am truly sorry that your friends were not able to rescue you too.
Yohaynn gazed into the waning flames and wondered what to do. He could not stay in this one spot forever without risking the very real possibility of actually remaining in this one spot forever. His aching brain had to work harder. I can hardly see any damn thing around here, but every damn thing can surely see me holding this light. Right? EVERY single thing around here can see me!
“If any of my friends can see or hear me please stay where you are and be silent,” he shouted. “Evil eyes may be watching me and waiting for you to show them where you are. Stay put until I can determine for certain that it is safe for you to come out… or not.” And if anyone out there is wondering how in Hadeystelstrom I am going to do that when I can hardly stand, or move, or see anything…so am I.
He ripped another long strip of cloth from the bottom of his big cloak, wrapped it around the dead D’vorgthing’s head like a ragged scarf, and set it on fire. Then he hurried on to the next body, used more cloth to ignite this one’s head too, and looked around at whatever the extra lights let him see. He wanted to find that pack very badly, but was also very afraid that he would find something else.
Where was Gar felled by that white spear? If he is not there, I will happily make myself believe he escaped with Rose and the rest and they are all safe and sound without me. Gods forbid they are not. The lump in his throat swelled to such a size that he could not breathe. If I am reduced to collecting the corpses of my companions, I will not rest until I have destroyed that detestable Foslov and every single one of His disgusting monsters that murdered them.
As he grew more and more upset his head started spinning and he almost swooned. “I must remain positive and calm myself down,” he said. “Gar is fine. Rose is fine. Smyte is fine. Wylum is…probably not.” He supposed he could learn to make do with that overall outcome if he had to. No, no. Let’s not let any of that nasty negativity get a death grip on me again. “Wylum might be just fine as well.”
Yohaynn was afraid he might fall, so he used his three insect-like legs to give his two normalish, deformed ones more balance and stability while he slowly made his way over to another D’vorgthing’s body. It was rare when all of his legs worked in harmony together, and he often wished he simply had a pair of regular ones so there would be six less reasons why he was always treated like such a pariah but…oh well. You’ve got what you’re given is what some people like to say.
Something else glistened in the torchlight when he reached the next dead D’vorgthing and he was soon reunited with another one of his sharp, little knives. This one had lodged itself deep in a gooey eye. He placed a strip of cloth over this corpse’s skull, lit it up, and spotted the bulging pack on his left. It was not that far away from him at all, but he let himself collapse right where he was because he was so exhausted.
I will stop at nothing to find out where my friends are after I rest a bit and get some glorious water from that beautiful fat pack.
Then everything went black.
