Cindra turned toward me. “Blade killed that man.”
“I know it was his knife that cut Scar’s throat, but I gave him the tools to do it. I improved his Strength by nine points, and then improved a skill that multiplied combat damage when he attacked in exactly the way he did. I gave him hundreds of extra points’ worth of damage. If I hadn’t done that…”
“Who knows?” Cindra said. “You did what you thought was right, to save me from going to bed with Blade just to get the coins we needed. If you knew Blade would kill that man, would you have done anything differently?”
She was right. I had larger concerns than Valleyvale’s bandit wars. I wouldn’t let Blade hurt Cindra. I also wouldn’t let Nola get hurt, which meant I had to get the money for this gear. Just because Blade was a murderer didn’t mean he could make me one.
“Thanks, Cindra.”
The forest was quiet that morning. A few squirrels chittered in the trees, but that was all. The morning air was crisp and cool against my face, even if the driver’s seat of our little cart smelled like a donkey’s ass.
Twice I had to stop the cart and chase after a cheese wheel that rolled away after we hit a bump, but other than that the ride was uneventful.
Until it became eventful.
We heard a shriek. “Aaaaah!”
We heard men. “Take her!”
We heard snakes. “Hisssssss.”
Uh-oh.
“Cindra,” I said, “I think Mamba’s in trouble.”
“She knew it wasn’t safe out there,” Cindra said.
“No,” I said, “I don’t think she really understood that. I saw Duul’s forces firsthand; it’s like nothing anyone’s seen before.
“The low, guttural sound of those voices, it’s just like Duul’s fighters. I don’t think Mamba’s just in normal trouble. We have to help her.”
Cindra adjusted the strap of her quiver. “Ready when you are.”
I lashed the reins to the donkey cart and we tore off through the forest, following in the general direction of Mamba’s voice. When I saw her, fighting off two creatures shaped roughly like men hewn of pure shadow, I pulled the reins back and jumped from the cart.
The dark warriors looked up at me. Cindra shot one with an arrow while I dug my new spear from the cart’s contents. I was dismayed to see that we were down one cheese wheel. It must have rolled away during our frantic chase through the woods.
Somewhere, a squirrel was going to get very, very fat.
I pulled Razortooth from the cart and pointed it toward one of the two monsters. Just like in Meadowdale, they had hulking black bodies with horns jutting out from their shoulders, elbows, and wrists. Their heads were solid spheres with no eyes, just a wide, gaping mouth littered with sharp teeth at inconsistent angles.
Working for the god of war must have lousy dental.
A black smog wafted from those dark creatures toward me. I felt it pulling me down, into a rage that came from nowhere. I fought against it while Cindra shot arrows at the monsters’ bodies. Her shots did little damage, likely because we hadn’t upgraded her archery skills yet. Still, each shot pushed the monsters back a few steps, buying me time to stave off the dark magic they exuded.
Mamba tilted her head and watched as the fiends left her at the base of a tree and walked toward me. If their past behavior was any indication, they’d drag Cindra and Mamba back to some slave camp or other and turn me into a warmongering zombie. I wouldn’t let that happen, to any of us.
I ran with my spear in hand toward the nearest of Duul’s foot soldiers. It lifted an arm and hooked my spear pole on one of its spikes, batting me to the side. As my arm turned out, my body continued toward the creature. I crashed into it headlong, forcing it to the ground.
I wrenched my spear free and stood over the monster. I pointed the tip of Razortooth’s blade down. It could split a hair with one edge of its blade, but the serrated edge looked scarier.
This creature was part of an assault on my people, my world, and the gods themselves. I wanted to destroy it. Still, I should have hesitated. Aside from its grotesque mouth and eyeless spherical head, it had a vaguely human shape to it. It felt like killing a person.
I didn’t hesitate though. My throat opened up, releasing a roar that scratched at my insides as it clawed from my mouth. Hate, anger, and malice filled my mind from the black vapors in the air. I stabbed this monster through the chest and yanked my spear free again.
The counterforce after pulling my weapon free forced me to stumble toward the second creature, which wrapped its arms around my chest and pinned my own arms down.
“Mamba,” I said, struggling against the uncanny strength of this man-shaped monster. I seethed and spit as I thrashed against its hold on me. “Can you do something?”
“I can dance,” she said. I sighed. She wasn’t going to be any help in her own rescue.
Still pinned in place by that monster, I bent forward, lifting the creature onto my back.
I hadn’t put enough points into my Strength attribute. I saw now the trouble with that. This thing, whatever it was made of, was heavy. It flattened me on the ground the second its feet were in the air. This did, however, knock the sword from its hand, so at least it would not do to me what I had just done to its companion.
“I’m out of arrows already,” Cindra said. She was standing on the front of the donkey cart while the donkey himself chewed at the grass.
Suddenly, a dozen snakes erupted from the soil beneath us. They swarmed the monsters and me, biting at our bodies while Mamba belly danced like a woman possessed.
The creature on my back rolled off of me. I spun around before it could grab its sword from the ground and thrust Razortooth forward, activating Piercing Blow. The spear’s head sank into the dark creature’s torso. A thick, black ooze burst from its body and it fell to the ground.
A snake wound up my leg while I wrestled with my spear, finally freeing it from the creature’s body.
I plopped onto the ground, exhausted. Two pools of slick black sludge were all that remained of the magical humanoids. If they were Duul’s creations, they needed a name to suit their evil, bellicose nature. Like death-snarlers, or soulless-henches.
“What were those things made of, tar?” Cindra asked.
Mamba’s hips reduced to a slow roll as she continued to mesmerize her snakes. “What are you made of?” she asked.
“Me?” I said. “Equal parts sweat and confusion right now. And she’s made of slime.” Cindra smiled and picked up her arrows one by one.
“I’m made of blood and music,” Mamba said, “except when I’m not. Thank you for turning those cretins to sludge.”
“Cretins,” Cindra said, “that’s a good name for them, whatever they were.”
“I thought we might call them devil-skeezers,” I said.
“I like cretin,” Cindra said. “It’s simple but fitting.”
As Mamba stopped dancing, her snakes escaped into the underbrush. “Thank you for beatin’ the cretins, my little snakies!” Mamba said.
Great, I thought, the name cretin stuck.
“That’s an impressive skill,” Cindra said. “Your snakes were a nice help.”
“Yeah, but why did they attack me?” I asked. “I was saving you!”
“When I dance,” she said, “my mind is at one with the snakes. But not all of them. Some of them have a mind of their own. Those snakes must have wondered what you tasted like.”
“Next time,” I said, “tell them I taste like rotten bananas and keep them off of me.”
“Next time?” Mamba said. “When will that be?”
“Listen,” I said, “those things that were trying to kidnap you are just the tip of the iceberg. My home was ravaged by those things. You can’t stay here.”
“I can’t leave here either,” she said. “The human lands are icy toward elves, the elf lands are windy toward gypsies. The trees are warm. We like each other.” She got a dreamy look in her eye and stared off toward the clouds.
“Mamba, darling,” Cindra said. “I’m going to need you to focus for a minute.”
“Mmm?” she asked.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” I said, “but you should come with us. We have food, and shelter. You can stay with us until you decide where you belong.”
She didn’t look convinced.
“Oh my,” Cindra said. “Ow, ow, ow!” She reached inside herself and removed the small pouch of jewels we had taken to Valleyvale. She tossed the bag to the ground, where the pull-string sack disintegrated before our eyes, leaving five clear stones behind. Heat rose from them, warping the light.
The black sludge on the ground rippled and rolled toward the stones. It narrowed into a thin cord that leapt from the ground and dove into one of them, turning it a cloudy brown and then an impenetrable black. The stone sucked in all of that dire ooze until the forest floor was clean again. The other four gems sat where they were, clear and cool.
I had cooled off too. Once the creatures had died, their evil smog dissipated, taking its magically induced anger and rage with it.
Mamba bent over the stones and poked the black one with a stick. “How did you do that?” she asked.
“I didn’t,” Cindra said. “We should ask Nola what she thinks.”
“Nola is the goddess I serve,” I explained to Mamba. “I’m the head priest.”
“Can I meet her?” she asked.
“If you come to the temple with us,” I said.
“I want to ride the donkey,” she said.
“You’ll have to ask him,” I said. I was joking, but Mamba walked over to the animal and put her hands on his face. She pressed her forehead against his.
“He said yes,” she said, “as long as I don’t summon any snakes. He didn’t like them.”
“Um,” I said.
“I’m kidding,” she said. “I can’t speak to donkeys. I’ll ride in the cart with you.”
“It’s a two-seater,” I said.
“Then we’ll squeeze,” she said.