Blood Ties

The journey down the eastern slope of the mountains passed by in a blur of swearing and sore muscles. The path, little more than a suggestion by that point, was as winding and treacherous as the ascent on the western side though thankfully not quite as steep. Several times Morwyn found herself wishing to trade places with the multitude of ravens that soared far above them, yearning for the freedom of flight, though she'd quickly come to realize they were likely headed to the mound of stinking goblin corpses and dead oxen they'd left behind. The cycle of nature was ever indifferent to their struggles. To the caravan the battle had been a horrific loss, yet to the ravens it was a glorious feast. The world around them cared as much for their pain as a stone cared for the wistful dreams of a field mouse.

Morwyn groaned with effort as she clung tightly to one of the ropes attached to the rearmost wagon. Argoth and Trux each held one as well and together the trio slowly lowered the wagon straight down the slope to reach the trail below. A landslide caused by the downpour of rain in the previous days had completely cut off one of the switchbacks, leaving them no choice but to make the perilous descent. The oxen, having been loosed from their yokes and led carefully across the landslide itself, cropped lazily at the tufts of hardy grass that occasionally sprouted from the otherwise barren earth some distance below. The caravaneers minded them attentively as there were few enough of the beasts left. They had only recovered enough of them to bring the three most intact wagons out of the pass.

“Easy on the left, give it some slack,” Argoth grunted. Trux, dripping with sweat, did as he instructed and the wagon straightened out. The worn iron bands on the locked wheels made an uncomfortable grating sound as they scraped over a section of exposed stone. Morwyn gritted her teeth as she passed the rope down hand over hand, trying to match the pace of the others. All three of them leaned backwards near to the point of laying down on the slope and were only kept upright by the weight of the wagon that threatened to pull them downward.

“We don't have much time left,” Morwyn called to the others, sensing that the magic that rooted their feet in place was fading. They'd misjudged the timing on the first two attempts and it had nearly ended in disaster as the spells wore off. Even if she had more of the anchoring scrolls it wouldn't have mattered- the other two were far too fatigued to take the weight of the wagon in order for her to take even a moment to activate another one.

“Nearly there,” Argoth said tersely, the only one of the three that was tall enough to see over the rock to which Morwyn had anchored their feet. Though he was far stronger than the two women even his massive arms were beginning to shake. He'd taken the center and had borne the brunt of the weight of all three overloaded wagons. “They're gettin' the oxen hooked up now. Once they've taken some of the weight we'll help them down the final stretch and be done with this.”

“I'll be glad for it,” Trux hissed in pain. “By the Beard, I could go my whole life without doin' this again. We should've brought proper anchors.”

Though she wholeheartedly agreed, Morwyn was too occupied with maintaining her form to say so. Her muscles burned and her breath came in short gasps as sweat poured freely down her face. A flood of relief washed over her as she felt the tension on her rope lessen slightly, signifying that those below had successfully yoked the oxen once more and the beasts had taken some of the weight. She heard their lows of distress as the brakes were loosed and empathized with the poor animals, even when their sudden lurch made her shoulders scream. They were likely as tired as she was, if not more so.

The magic of Morwyn's scrolls faded just as their ropes finally went slack. Having secured herself last, Morwyn heard the thumps of the others impacting the ground and had but a moment to brace herself before she too landed hard on her back which drove the remaining breath from her lungs with a grunt. She lay there panting for a time before Argoth helped her rise shakily to her feet.

“Neat trick. Saved us a lot of time by not having to dig a path through the landslide,” Argoth said with a grin as he shook out his arms and cracked his neck.

“At the cost of our bodies,” Morwyn muttered before taking a long swig from her canteen. Her hands shook so badly that she splashed water down her neck and chest, but she didn't mind the cool sensation against her hot skin. “I'm pretty sure my arms are a few inches longer now, and my legs a few shorter.”

“A minute more of that and we'd be seeing eye to eye,” Trux said with a grin as she gave a halfhearted jab to Morwyn's shoulder. “Though you'd make for one strange lookin' dwarf, I'll admit.”

Morwyn chuckled and shook her head, then stoppered her canteen and took several deep breaths before stepping shakily to one side to assess the slope with a critical eye. It now seemed a lot longer than it had when they'd planned out their little shortcut, though that was perhaps due to the effort it had taken.

“What's the plan now?” she asked, leery of either of their options with how shaky her legs felt. “Brave the slope, or make our way over the slide like the others?”

Argoth scratched at the stubble on his jaw for a moment as he considered the problem. He prodded at the loose tails of rope that hung limp over the boulder with the toe of one boot.

“I don't fancy a long hike at the moment, my legs feel like jelly. The fastest way down is to rappel if you're up for it.”

“Our arms aren't much better,” Trux grumbled as she gingerly massaged her biceps.

Argoth turned to Morwyn and glanced at her bandolier with hope in his one eye.

“Anythin' left in there that could help? I know we've been pretty hard on your supply already.”

Morwyn fumbled with the toggles of her scroll cases with dead, gloved fingers before she was able to get them open. Her heart sank as she took a quick inventory.

“I'm out of strength and anchoring scrolls. I've got a handful for healing, two that would slow someone's fall, one that makes a large, sticky web, and a few others that are only really useful at camp or in combat.”

One of Argoth's brows raised with curiosity and a dangerous grin spread across his toothy maw.

“I have an idea,” he declared loudly. The big orc grabbed the ends of their three ropes and, to Morwyn's horror, tossed them down the mountainside. They twisted like writhing snakes before coming to a stop in a tangled heap far below. Trux cursed and shook her head, giving Morwyn a long-suffering look.

“And what exactly is your plan, boss?” Morwyn said in resignation as she stared longingly at the abandoned ropes.

“Use that slow-falling scroll on me then hang on tight. I'll get us down.”

Morwyn gave him a dirty look and jabbed at him with the tightly wound scroll.

“You know, it would be lovely if you didn't find joy in death-defying stunts.”

Argoth gave her a one-eyed wink, or maybe a slow blink, and spread his arms wide as he grinned.

“It's that or we take a hike. Up to you.”

Trux rolled her eyes but stepped forward to loop an arm through Argoth's wide red sash as Morwyn cursed under her breath. She gripped the scroll tightly in one fist and opened her mind to the arcane power within it. As it was meant to be activated quickly during times of peril, the incantation was only a single word. She didn't even have to read the scroll to activate it once she'd touched the magic within. Glancing nervously at Argoth as she gripped his sash with her free hand, Morwyn murmured the activation word. The scroll glowed briefly then crumbled to dust in her fist.

“Featherlight.”

Without missing a beat, Argoth grabbed Trux around the shoulders and Morwyn around the waist, backed up a pace, and used the top of the boulder as a stepping stone as he leapt out into the open air above the dropoff. A strangled yelp was all that could escape Morwyn's throat before they were suddenly airborne. Her eyes went wide and her stomach lurched as they passed clear over the wagons and caravaneers waiting for them below. A stream of dwarvish curses from Trux were intermittently cut out by the wind as it roared past Morwyn's ears. With each second the ground grew ever further away until the arc of their trajectory brought them downward once again. They fell more slowly than they would have naturally, but still with dangerously increasing speed.

“The spell is only meant for a single person!” she shouted desperately over the wind. “I didn't think you would jump, you lunatic! We're going to crash!”

The mad orc, positively giddy with delight, laughed in the face of her panic.

“Nothin' to worry about! I've got it.”

Morwyn clung to Argoth's sash and breastplate as they plummeted down toward the rocky ground and their certain, excruciating demise. She clamped her eyes shut and and tried to brace herself for the inevitable explosion of pain upon impact, but was instead met with an immense pressure followed by a loud popping sound that made her ears ring. A deep chill sent a shiver throughout her body just as her boots made contact with a squishy, squelching surface at a far lower velocity than expected. Morwyn's eyes shot open at the foreign sensation and she gasped aloud in fright.

The grayscale landscape around them was completely devoid of any color and was twisted into a cruel mockery of what it had once been. Rocks were sharper and more jagged, grass and small plants were withered and dead, and the sky was a roiling mass of dark clouds that blotted out the sun and turned the light of day into a weak imitation of its former glory. The lines and edges of everything seemed incongruent, as if the natural order of things mattered less than the suggestion of what they were meant to be. Worst of all were the shadows. Rather than simply shading the dark clefts between the rocks or beneath wizened, windswept little plants, they were startling black voids. Eternally deep yet depthless at the same time, they were fathomless holes in the world just like Argoth's shadow weapons.

“Uh, boss,” she whispered with rising dread, “are we in... in the...”

“The Shadow Plane,” the orc affirmed with a dark chuckle as he adjusted his grip on his companions. “Not to worry, I'll have us out of here in a bit. Oh, and you probably shouldn't look down.”

Morwyn did as anyone who was told not to look down inevitably did- she looked down. She found that they stood ankle deep in a wet, writhing, formless black mass that sprouted countless bloodshot eyes. Probing, pitch-black tentacles wound around their ankles and up their legs. Though she couldn't see Trux she knew the dwarf must have done the same based on her very reasonable reaction.

“What the fuck is that?” Trux yelped in terror. Morwyn herself had to fight the compulsion to scramble up Argoth's shoulders to get away from the inconceivable creature of nightmares.

“I warned you not to look down,” the orc laughed. “We'll be gone before it can get a proper hold on us. Trust me.”

Unable to tear her gaze away from the wriggling blob of eyes and tentacles that had softened their landing, Morwyn held tightly to Argoth as she kicked one of her feet to free it from the black tendrils. Dozens of small mouths ringed with serrated, triangular teeth yawned open in the spaces between the eyes and tentacles. They let loose a simultaneous hissing screech in response to her thrashing kicks and the tentacles redoubled their efforts to pull her down into the gnashing maws.

Just as she was about to shove away from Argoth to draw her sword in a panic, she felt the same buildup of pressure all around her body as it had before and another excruciating pop set her ears ringing. Dazed and disoriented, Morwyn stumbled as Argoth released her and she fell to the ground, scrambling and pushing herself away from the afterimage of the tentacled blob that was burned into her vision. Over the sound of her own ragged breaths she could hear Trux retching violently the other side of Argoth as the dwarf emptied her stomach onto the stones. Argoth leaned down to each of them in turn and helped them to their feet with a chuckle at their matching glares.

“Gods above...” Morwyn panted, steadying her shaking hands by adjusting the straps of her equipment that had twisted out of place. “Was that really necessary?”

“No,” Argoth replied with a wicked grin. “But the best things in life seldom are.”

An enraged Trux made an attempt to shove Argoth to the ground, but as weak as she was he hardly moved as she cursed him, his ancestors, and the world that allowed him to exist within it. Eventually she gave up and wiped the bile from her chin before sitting on a nearby rock with her arms crossed in anger.

“I'm glad you had fun, boss,” the dwarf spat venomously, “but some of us prefer to keep both feet on the ground. If dwarves were meant to fly we'd have been born with wings. Not to mention that... that other place.”

Argoth gave Trux a bemused look and shook his head.

“Ain't nothin' to be afraid of there as long as you're with me. Just don't try goin' there yourselves.”

Morwyn let out a defeated sigh and wiped a gloved hand over her face in a vain effort to dispel the unnerving chill that had settled over her from their brief excursion into another plane of existence. She was becoming decidedly tired of destabilizing new experiences and longed for the simple drudgery of the trail they'd suffered through in previous weeks, though knowing what she did about herself now she sincerely doubted that a return to normalcy was in the cards for her. Morwyn shook her head to clear her mind and glanced up the slope. The caravan was quite a distance away but was slowly meandering down the mountain toward them.

“Should we make our way up there to help?” she asked, concern creasing her brow. Argoth merely laid down on the rocky ground with his hands behind his head and his one eye closed.

“No need, Eronir and Yvonne can handle it. I didn't see any more obstacles while we were flyin' so we might as well take a rest and wait for them to catch up.”

Trux rolled her eyes and huffed but after rinsing her mouth with a swig from her canteen she laid down as well. The dwarf winced and groaned as she settled down.

“First sensible thing you've said today,” she muttered.

Though her body was weak from her earlier exertion, adrenaline coupled with dread kept Morwyn upright for a time before she sat down to recover her strength. She knew she was imagining things, yet she couldn't help but see greedy eyes and wicked teeth in the shadows at the periphery of her vision.

***

“It isn't much, but it's hot,” Hazel said cheerily as she handed Morwyn a steaming bowl of stew. She accepted it gratefully and leaned back in the folding chair with a soft groan of relief. Night had fallen long before they'd found a location level enough to set up their camp in the eastern foothills and the company was exhausted. Morwyn was surprised anyone had bothered to cook a meal rather than leaving them to pick at their remaining trail rations. She shoveled a large spoonful into her mouth and froze as a strange flavor danced across her tongue. It was earthy, but not muddy, reminiscent of beef but clearly distinct from it. She swallowed with a frown and gave Hazel a curious look as the halfling sat down beside her.

“What is this? I've never tasted anything like it before. Did you add herbs to it?”

Hazel chuckled and sipped at the broth in her own bowl.

“I threw a few things in there to help us all recover a bit more quickly, but that's not what you're tasting. It's Argoth's special ingredient.”

The color drained a bit from Morwyn's face at the revelation.

“Do I even want to know?”

Hazel gave her a winning smile and popped a large chunk of meat into her mouth.

“Ish va rimno moll,” she said past the mouthful of hot food. She chewed for a moment, swallowed, and repeated herself more clearly. “It's the rhino mole!”

Morwyn gave her a concerned look before glancing into her bowl. In the dim light of the lantern that hung from Hazel's wagon it didn't look any different than a regular stew, and it didn't exactly taste bad, but it still made her stomach turn a little.

“Oh... uh... why?” was all that she could manage to say.

“The bloody goblins' weapons were coated with poison,” Hazel explained between voracious bites. “Nasty stuff, I had my hands full administering antidotes to those not healed by your magic. Anyway, it tainted the meat of the oxen they killed so we couldn't make use of them, but the rhino mole wasn't poisoned so Argoth carved us a few choice cuts to supplement our rations. Good, isn't it? A bit strange, but good!”

Supposing she'd been too much inside her own head at the time to have noticed the act, Morwyn gave the stew a wary look before taking another cautious bite. The meat was a bit tough but it was dense and flavorful. Her stomach growled in protest at her hesitation so Morwyn overcame her misgivings and tucked into the savory meal, wishing only that they had fresh vegetables to use instead of dried ones. Still, it filled her belly and quieted the rumblings within.

“Why are you still wearing your gloves?” Hazel asked suddenly in a quiet tone. She stared at the empty bowl in her lap as she twirled the spoon in a slow circle with one finger. “You've been wearing them since you came back last night after that strange pillar of light in the sky, and all day today. Did something happen?”

Morwyn slowly set her spoon back down in her bowl and glanced sideways at the halfling. Her initial instinct was to deny that anything was wrong, to dismiss and deflect the questions as unimportant to spare Hazel the weight of her burden, yet a quiet voice within her knew that would be wrong. Hazel trusted her. Gods, Hazel loved her. It would be childish and insincere to keep her in the dark. She didn't have to tell the whole truth- that would be far too dangerous, as demonstrated by the Moonmother's reaction to Rennock's revelations- but out of respect for her partner she had to say something.

“Your powers of perception never fail to amaze me,” Morwyn replied with a small smile after a moment of consideration. “Yes, something did happen. I can't tell you all the details yet, or maybe ever... Do you trust me?”

“Of course, dear,” Hazel replied without hesitation, sitting up straight and meeting Morwyn's gaze with attentive eyes and a serious expression. Morwyn tucked an auburn ringlet behind the halfling's ear and brushed a gloved thumb tenderly across her cheek. She paused again to find the right words, frustrated that she had to walk on eggshells, wishing she could be open with her about it.

“I found out who I really am,” she began softly, looking around to ensure that nobody else was close enough to listen in. The rest of the camp was quietly tucking into their meal and seemed to be reveling in the opportunity for a quiet night in the wake of all their troubles, so Morwyn leaned in and continued. “Or, rather, what I really am. I'm sorry, but I can't tell you what that means. If I am able to someday then I will, I promise.”

Hazel raised an eyebrow and slowly looked her up and down, making heat rise to Morwyn's cheeks. A smirk twitched at the corner of Hazel's lips at her reaction.

“Alright, I trust that you have your reasons for secrecy. But why the gloves?”

Morwyn bit her lip as she considered her predicament for a moment, then slowly slipped off her mail-backed gloves. The crimson scale on the back of her left hand gleamed in the weak light and she saw Hazel's eyes go wide.

“Oh... oh my. Not what I was expecting at all.”

Hazel took her hand in both of her own and lifted it closer to her face. She turned it at different angles to get a good look and tapped on it gently with a fingernail. Morwyn was suddenly and extraordinarily self-conscious about her abnormality but held still while the healer completed her inspection. When she was satisfied with her examination, Hazel met Morwyn's gaze once again.

“I don't know what that is or what it means, but it's beautiful.”

A worried frown crossed Morwyn's features at the words.

“I'm not so sure you'd say that if you did know what it means,” she murmured darkly. Hazel clucked her tongue and shook her head in muted consternation.

“It's a part of you, isn't it? A part of your true self?”

“Well... yes. But that doesn't mean it's a good thing. In fact, it could turn out to be a very, very bad thing. Not just for me, but for you as well. For all of us.”

Maintaining eye contact, Hazel slowly lifted Morwyn's hand to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on the dark red scale. A strange sensation washed over Morwyn, at once both comforting and alarming as if her body didn't quite know how to respond to the intimate contact against the manifestation of her true nature. It sent a shiver all the way up her spine and she blinked rapidly in confusion.

“If it's a part of you, then it's beautiful to me,” Hazel whispered. Morwyn found herself mesmerized by the sincerity in the halfling's emerald eyes and in her dulcet tone. “We've already established that our lives are destined for danger and that we'll face it together. This doesn't change that for me. And, if I'm being totally honest, the intrigue that shadows everything about you is a bit... exciting.”

Hoping that the dim light concealed the immediate reddening of her face, Morwyn slowly let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Hazel bit her lower lip and looked up at Morwyn through her long lashes before giving her a sultry wink. When Morwyn let out a soft, involuntary moan under her breath, the halfling rocked back with quiet laughter and tapped her playfully on the nose. Morwyn clamped her free hand over her mouth in embarrassment.

“Gods, you make this so easy,” the halfling murmured in her ear as she stood up and gave Morwyn a kiss on her flushed cheek.

“And you make it so difficult,” Morwyn grumbled. “Wait, where are you going? You can't just... leave me here like this. That's not fair at all.”

As soon as the words left her lips Morwyn was aware of just how pathetic she sounded, but in that moment she didn't care. Hazel rubbed a thumb over the back of her hand more time before letting it slip from her grasp.

“I'm going to borrow some different gloves for you. I don't fancy holding your clunky armored hands all the time until you're ready to show off that pretty scale.”