The Homunculus Knight

Chapter 54: Answers among the Wreckage

“Fed by terrible Erum’s wrath, the tempest charged down the mountains like wild stallions, ready to trample all that fell beneath its lightning-clad hooves. For nine days and nine nights, the priests of Nurim-Cana struggled to hold back the spirit-storm. But they were mere men, able to do little but delay a Jotunn’s wrath. On the tenth day when sky and sun were drowned by sick clouds all hope seemed lost. But in a trumpet cry Sera Aarin proclaimed ‘Fear Not’ as he rode across the storm-kissed plains, catching lightning in his hand. At the gates of Nurim-Cana he stood and before him, the storm of ages quailed; the stallions bridled by a Seraphilim’s might.”- Book of Miracles, Heroes 6-6.

Natalie’s eyes opened with the snap of breaking ice. Blinking away frozen tears, the young Alukah groaned weakly, filling lungs with winter-cold air. An unfamiliar male voice reached her ears then, its gruff northern accent warped by Natalie’s thawing ears. “You sure this is a good idea?”

As Natalie tried to move her arm, feeling blood and cartilage crackle, another speaker answered the man, this one female and melodic. “I have faith, the Tenth God is many things, but never foolish.”

Strong, warm fingers wrapped around Natalie’s hand and squeezed gently. Barely able to return the gesture, Natalie forced a name from frost-kissed lips. “Cole?”

A large but unsteady thumb drew circles on Natalie’s palm and a deep voice cracked like old stone rasped. “I’m here.”

Finally focusing her vision, Natalie let out a weak gasp upon seeing the burned horror looming over her. Cole was alive, but barely. His already ruined skin now boasted great patches of mottled red flesh. Blood and other more foul substances wept from cracked tissue; while his armor seemed almost melted to him in places. Yet despite all that, his gaze was strong. Pale blue eyes shone through a mask of injuries. Meeting his gaze, Natalie asked. “Where are we? Where is everyone?”

Looking away from her, Cole replied. “The central tower in the lock cave. Allies have come, and the worst injuries have been treated.”

A low whimper came from somewhere nearby and Natalie glanced over to see Mina lying next to her. The Priestess was curled up into a ball and shivering violently. A stranger kneeled over Mina, golden hands touching her head. Upon seeing the stranger, Natalie sucked in an involuntary breath and felt a spasm of fear run up her spine. Gripping Cole’s hand tighter, Natalie recoiled from the golden woman, trying to get a grip on her rising terror. Staring into those amber eyes, feeling what lay within and Beyond them, Natalie’s instincts screamed for her to run, to hide, to do anything but stay near this monster. This new flood of alien reactions battered at Natalie’s already off-kilter mind. She was used to the Alukah’s hungers, but had no idea how to handle its fear.

A soft smile, warm as summer split the woman’s features and Natalie’s dead blood turned to black ice at the sight. Flashes of fire and it's horrible tongues licking at her flesh danced through Natalie’s mind; accompanied by a sunburn itch that soaked all the way to her bones. Speaking slowly, her voice identifying her as the melodic woman from before, the gilded lady said. “The darkness within you clearly remembers my light. Ignore its flailing, heiress, I mean you no harm.”

Remembering how to speak, Natalie asked. “Who…? How…? What…?”

In a small raw voice, Mina said. “She’s Deborah,, the soul-daughter of Seraphim Anthelioi Nanal.”

A new surge of fear crashed into Natalie then. Nanal; she knew that name, having heard it spoken by Glynn as he read a silver book to her. Wrestling down the inhuman panic bubbling up from the Alukah, Natalie said. “You were sent to kill me if I lost control, right?”

Cole looked to the saint-marked woman then with new concern. “What?”

Deborah nodded slightly. “Only if all was truly lost. Rescuing you, the stone and the… Paladin was the main goal. But if Annoch, or the husk that remains of him, were to break free, then I would die stopping him, just as my soul-sister once tried. A fate I wish to avoid as much as you do, I’d wager.”

Brushing away golden locks, the Seraphilim shifted the subject. “You are well read about the Rabisu and her children. Nanal is my soul-parent, just as she was to Yaellap the Sunkissed who fought at the fields of Golgido. But we can talk more about my heritage later. Other more pressing matters are at hand.”

Deborah shut her golden eyes and gently reached out with one hand to let motes of amber drip from her fingertips towards Natalie. Where the sparks touched, warm tingling remained. A low hum escaped Deborah. “Her soul is mostly intact, and healing, but is not stable. Mina used raw power to compensate for her lack of training, but that can only go so far. The worst should heal over the next few months but until then there will be-.”

Eyes wide, Natalie interrupted Deborah. “The Rabisu! The thing inside me isn’t the Rabisu! It was part of-”

Mina interrupted Natalie’s interruption. “The Reaper of Sorrows… A fragment of it was inside of you; waiting to break free. I’ve no idea how it got into you, or what our enemy did to wake it up, though.”

Nodding slowly, feeling her neck muscle creak, Natalie said. “Scapin, the Ashborn I fought at the solstice ball, he infected me when I…I tried to eat him. Then when Isabelle attacked Wolfgang he unleashed another part of the Reaper into me. I tried to stop them but… jagged edges, it wasn’t enough. Wolfgang did something to me… it… it hurt.”

Again, Mina spoke, her voice brittle as old ice. “He cut the link with Isabelle. I don’t know how, but he did. I tried to fix the damage as best I could but-”

Cole bolted upright, turning about, eyes scanning the room, his every movement tense. “Where is she?” he asked, a hint of deep panic in his voice. Glances were exchanged among those within the tower and as the silence dragged on. Cole barked. “Where is she?!”

Nearby, a weary-looking man in oversized chainmail said. “One of the clot-lickers got away, or at least tried to. Stupid jagger collapsed the tunnel entrance on himself trying to escape Sunbeam.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Cole looked from Mina to Deborah. “Is Natalie safe?”

Brow furrowed, the Seraphilim said. “I fear what long-term effects such a grievous wound will have but-”

Voice practically a growl, Cole said. “Will she come to any harm right this moment?”

To Natalie’s surprise, the angelblood recoiled slightly at Cole’s intensity. “No, she’s safe in my care.”

Nodding, Cole kissed his pointer and middle finger, placing them briefly upon Natalie’s head before turning to leave. “Yara, watch her for me. I’ll be back soon.”

Stunned, Natalie watched as Cole marched away, his broken body suddenly filled with a mad vigor she recognized. The first time she saw it was in the Silly Goats shed, and ever since then whenever someone Cole loved was threatened. Whispered words from a spider monster danced in Natalie’s mind. ‘How arrogant to think you are the crop. No, Natalie, you are but the chaff; and Wolfgang has already started the threshing.’

A horrified gasp escaped Natalie, and she tried to sit up. Deborah’s warm hands stopped her, but Natalie managed to grab the Seraphilim’s hand. “You need to help him find Isabelle! That’s what this has all been about! Not me, not the Alukah! She’s been the Reaper’s target the entire time!”

Frowning in confusion, Deborah looked to the man in chainmail. “Grettir, go after him, make sure he doesn’t hurt himself or someone else.”

With a grunt Grettir spat a glob of mucus onto the ground. “Sure, I’ll go follow the soul-eating homunculus into a dark cave by myself.”

Putting a little gilded iron into her voice Deborah snapped. “Grettir!”

Shrugging, her companion picked up an oversized battle-axe that rested against the wall next to him. “I mean, he’s not in any condition to hurt someone, and as we just jagging saw, he’ll heal from anything.”

As Grettir left, Natalie shut her eyes and let out an exhausted breath. They knew about Cole; they’d seen him resurrect. Natalie didn’t want to consider what new nest of problems this revelation would bring, but she had no option. A twinge of sadness coursed through Natalie as she thought about Cole leaving. While intellectually she understood why, it still hurt. Sure, going and finding Isabelle was the priority but… but couldn’t he stay a little longer? Being abandoned at one’s sickbed by a loved one was never fun, no matter the logic.

Uncurling a little from the shivering ball she’d been, Mina stared at Natalie with tired eyes filled with questions and concerns. “You knew didn’t you?”

Natalie nodded, finally managing to prop herself up on creaking elbows. Sucking in a rattling breath Mina glanced in the direction Cole went. “Why didn’t either of you tell us? We’ve been fighting at your side for weeks now and yet you… didn’t trust us, even though Morri knows.”

Rubbing her hands together, trying to get some feeling back in them, Natalie just shrugged. “It’s Cole's secret to share; I only told Morri because there was no other option after the solstice ball.”

A noise of anger slipped past Mina’s lips, and she snapped. “I’ve risked my life for you and him. Hells, more than that I dragged someone I love into this and neither of you would give me the courtesy of sharing the full story! You said Isabelle is the Reaper’s goal but I don’t think the vampires even knew about her or you at first. This whole disaster was meant to capture Cole. Those monsters attacked us trying to get him! I…I can accept what happened, but not being kept in the dark about why it happened.”

From somewhere behind Natalie, a disgusted scoff split the air. Yara, who’d been skulking nearby made her presence known. “Don’t bleat about trust and secrets after what happened.”

Mina flinched like she’d been slapped, anger quickly bubbling up from where Yara’s word had gouged her.. “Did the jagging thrall know before me?”

Yara glared daggers at Mina, an effort helped by the actual blade gripped in her hand. “I did not, but that isn’t what’s important here. You betrayed us, nearly getting everyone killed. Even if Master Time cut the witchery out of you, that doesn’t change what happened. Of everyone here, you have the least right to bleat about broken trust.”

Voice sharp as a whip, Natalie said. “Yara! Enough!’

Bowing her head, the thrall said. “I’m sorry, mistress, but it's the truth. The Priestess betrayed both herself and her partner. Now she’s just seeing traitors everywhere, as if that will dilute what she’s done”

If Yara’s earlier words had been a verbal slap, this was a skull-cracking haymaker. Mina curled back into a ball of pain, retreating from the cold iron of truth. Natalie didn’t need to see into the Aether to tell what emotions and thoughts were leaking from Mina’s cracked mind. Shame, guilt and unimaginable exhaustion clung to the Priestess like tar. Everyone has a breaking point, no matter the strength of will or character a person has. Eventually, they will reach the point where something snaps.

Mina had faced death, (imagined) betrayal, torture and unimaginable shock in a very short period. Then, before the truth of events could sink in, the Priestess faced her God and had fell magic excised from her mind. But even in the face of all that, Mina had stood strong, healing Natalie and facing a shard of true evil in a battle for the continent’s future. Now, after all that and more, the normally ever so calm and kind Mina Vrock was falling apart. She’d tried to shield herself with righteous anger, but Yara smashed that apart with a few choice words. Natalie could bitterly imagine her thrall was no stranger to such wounded states or the ugly truths hidden in them.

Forcing her thawing body to move, Natalie managed to touch Mina, wrapping a stiff arm around the now sobbing priestess. Something resembling an apology bubbled out of Mina’s mouth, as she wept. “Imsorrysorryiamsorsorsorry”

Old ugly memories of a black cell beneath Castle Glockmire came to Natalie; of the taste of fresh blood and how it cooled upon her hands. She knew something of the pain Mina was experiencing; of what it was like to utterly horribly betray someone you love and not even have a choice in the matter. “I found out Cole was immortal after I killed him.”

That actually got Mina to stop crying; it even pulled Deborah’s attention from her work healing Alia’s skull. Shutting her eyes and thinking about her first night as a vampire, Natalie continued. “I’d just been turned and… and the leeches wanted to break me. So they dropped Cole into my cell after he’d fought a gauntlet of monsters trying to rescue me. I fought the thirst for a time, but eventually I gave in. Mina… I didn’t just feel him die, I tasted it.”

Hugging her best friend close, Natalie whispered. “It took me a long time to realize it wasn’t my fault. The curse, it couldn’t be stopped, and… and it might have been worse. If someone other than Cole was dumped into that jagging cell with me then… I might have been truly broken. What happened to me was horrible, so was what happened to you; but it could have been so, so much worse.”

Mina’s racking sobs started up again. “But…but Masga isn-isn’t a homunculus! He won’t come back after what I did and-and with Alia… Oh gods, I hurt her, I hurt her!”

Not quite knowing what to say, Natalie just held onto Mina. Eventually Natalie asked. “The magic that controlled you; what do you know about it?”

Slowly, Mina started to explain what she’d learned from Master Time; particularly how Natalie was supposed to play a role in uncovering and healing those subverted by the geas. Frowning at that, Natalie wondered what did Master Time expect from her? She had a talent for mind magic but hadn’t properly delved into it for ethical reasons. But that couldn’t be the only reason. Plenty of powerful Seers or even other ‘nice’ vampires might help remove the geas; so why was Natalie being called to this task? The answer was both obvious and obtuse; as the Alukah, she could do things no other vampire could. Thinking about how she’d banished the ash heap Wolfgang unleashed and then helped bind the Reaper; Natalie had an inkling of what Master Time wished of her.

As Mina’s tale trailed off, Natalie decided it was best to fill the silence with her own account. She shared about Wolfgang being her granduncle, how Isabelle had tried to consume him and the trap hidden inside the bespectacled vampire. The sheer insanity of what Natalie described seemed to be enough to pull Mina’s mind from her own pain. Thankful for the distraction, the pair started piecing together events. To both vampire and priestess’s surprise, Yara occasionally chimed in adding details neither possessed. Soon a relatively complete accounting of events was weaved by the three women.

Deborah, for her part simply listened, working her magic upon the wounded; acting the part of silent and sacred watcher perfectly. She only spoke once it seemed the story was complete. “Again I must apologize for being so late; much grief might have been spared if Grettir and I arrived just a little sooner.”

Recovered somewhat, Mina managed a weak smile. “Natalie’s right, things could have gone better but also much worse. That you arrived to save us was miraculous.”

Staring into empty space, her fingers dancing a spell into being across Nolkin’s belly; Deborah nodded. “It truly was, catching all of you before you turned south was fortunate. I just wish Grettir and I hadn’t wasted so much time trying to figure out what route you’d all take. The pair of us almost went up into the mountains proper before I realized the truth of my sister’s words.”

Golden eyes turning to Natalie, Deborah answered the question forming in the Alukah’s mind. “My kind rarely share the same abilities. I am Sunkissed like my soul-sister Yaellap before me, but my blood-sister has other gifts. Jude is a Sibylline, a prophetess most potent. Her visions guided us to you… even if they are vague. She said ‘Death’s Apostle would walk through the mountains, facing darkness until an impossible dawn.’ As ever, the future and those who see it tend to be poetic in the worst possible way.”

Glancing at Kit, Yara asked. “So this sister… she’s also angelblooded? Is she what’s keeping the Lictorum protections working?”

Deborah stopped mid spell, her golden weave flickering slightly as she stared at the thrall with shock. “How did you…?”

Nodding to the Magi, Yara said. “We were at Fort Carnum, and Kit here figured out what you were doing.”

Looking at the injured Kit with a new, wary respect, Deborah replied. “Yes, to both. Jude has a different angel as third-parent but we are blood-twins. As for the Lictorum… we are keeping the details of that secret, something I think all of you can appreciate. It's better for everyone to think a single Seraphilim is running herself ragged trying to protect Prince Franz’s host than for it to be common knowledge two Seraphilim are simply powering an old taboo spell array. It allows Jude or me to slip away for a time while all eyes, be they living or undead, are at Fort Erdom.”

Digesting all of this, Natalie spoke. “Your sister… she knows about Cole. When we get to Fort Erdom, could I ask her about the Alukah and-”

Deborah cut her off. “We aren’t going to Fort Erdom, at least not yet.”

Surprise rippled through the room and Natalie said. “But what about the sage stone! The cure needs to reach Franz’s army!”

Again, Deborah stared into the middle distance, her Beyond-touched mind clearly focusing on something only she could sense. “It does and it will, just not in the way Vindabon originally planned. See, bringing the stone and the cure to Erdom will shift the balance of power but… but that might not be enough. Jannah is being beaten back. The sultanate is going to lose western Atham. Soon the full might of Dracon’s Red Empire will be coming to the Southern Marches.”

Horrible dead silence filled the room, only broken by Mina’s muttered oath. “Fixed-stars preserve us…”

For what felt like the hundredth time that night Natalie’s insides turned to cold iron. “Dracon… W-why is he doing this?”

Sadness filled the Seraphilim’s deep golden eyes. “You. He’s coming for you.”

Natalie felt like she was going to throw up. That her dead body was going to simply spew her shriveled guts onto the cold stone floor. She thought about the town of Barlstine, of the human bone bracers of the White Orcs, of the countless plague corpses she’d seen in Vindabon. A black miserable terror crushed at Natalie’s mind. She’d known why all this was happening, the true reason for all this death and horror. Archduke Dracon, first of the Wyrmoi, dragon-slayer, conqueror of Thirteen Duchies, Dux of Trakis, and ruler of all vampires, wanted his property back.

A lump of rock formed in Natalie’s throat and she shut her eyes, thankful she couldn’t properly cry. The feeling of a warm gentle hand on her shoulder forced Natalie’s eyes open. Deborah kneeled before the vampire, her touch soothing as a nice summer day. “Be not afraid. For while the forces of blood and death march; those in opposition to them have not been idle. The sage stone might turn the tide for a little while if brought to Fort Erdom, but it would not end the war. If the stone were to reach another location, the heart of all this rot and ruin, then victory might come not just quickly, but easily.”

Mina whispered the name of where they must go, where Master Time had directed her. “Harmas, we need to go to Harmas. Are we supposed to use the stone to kill whatever elder Fae is connected to plague?”

Deborah nodded and explained. “Yes, and no; Destroying the Broodmaiden would help, but that is not what might win us this war in a single move. Harmas is sealed away by an ancient and powerful spirit bound to the city’s ruling family. For now, that spirit merely acts as Harmas’ gaoler, but if it were to be roused to action, so much might be saved.”

Confused, Natalie tried to put all the pieces together. “How? If the spirit was that strong, why hasn’t it saved Harmas?”

Glancing away, Deborah pursed her lips. “We don’t know why the spirit has merely kept the quarantine instead of doing more; but that isn’t the point. See, the guardian of Harmas is no mere Aetheric elemental but is the spirit of the Alidonian River itself. A being like that holds incredible sway over its domain and can help us not just win the war but cripple the Duchies for years.”

Trying to remember what little bit of shaman lore Kistine had taught her, Natalie chewed on this. The spirit of a mighty river was obviously not something to sniff at, but Natalie couldn’t understand what Deborah was implying. Thankfully, Mina did and with a startled gasp the Priestess exclaimed. “The sage stone! It can confer magical properties to fluid, any fluid!”

Still confused, Natalie looked to her friend, seeing the sparks of hope behind Mina’s eyes. Seeing Natalie’s expression, Mina actually smiled. “Holy water! We can use the stone and the spirit to turn the entire river into holy water!”

In her mind’s eye, Natalie could see the crooked length of the Alidon River snaking down from Harmas, into the Duchies proper. Going past the Marcher Forts and right through the great vampire city of Scordis before flowing into Dux Trakis, and Noct Kalat, seat of Dracon’s power. Visions of how the sheep pond Cole barely blessed turned wights into cold bone danced behind Natalie’s eyes. Now Natalie could understand Mina’s smile. The Duchies would be split in half, its very heart-river turned into a font of true death. Simple hydromancy might send hallowed waves smashing into undead legions, destroying them in seconds. Deborah was right, bringing the cure to Prince Franz might change the war's course, but taking the stone to Harmas would change the tides of fate.

Still, the paranoid part of Natalie’s mind, that section trained by Cole’s presence, had concerns. “But doesn’t holy water not last long outside a temple?”

Nodding slowly, Deborah explained. “Yes, which is why the spirit and other factors are so important. The river spirit has primacy over the entire Aether of its domain. It is tutelar, or genius loci, for all between its banks. By sanctifying the spirit, we could turn the entire Alidon River into a temple of sorts; where the stone’s work might persist for months. In fact, if we do this well, then holy water taken from the river might stay holy for days at a time depending on how far it travels. If… if the stories about the sacred rivers in Qabsu are true that is.”

Slowly trying to understand all this, Natalie next asked. “How can the stone be used to bless the spirit?”

A slightly sad smile crossed Deborah’s face. “It can’t, instead a truly colossal amount of divine power is needed. The type of which no mortal could properly channel, nor slip through the Final Gates unnoticed. But fate finally weaves in the Light’s favor; my sister or I can wield the magic required and the Gates are already unbalanced. The Reaper is not the only Fell God with debts unpaid thanks to this war; while the Pantheon has been miserly in their responses. When the time comes, every fell miracle, every dark whisper will be answered using my voice and that stone.”

The stink of burning ghouls flared in Natalie’s mind. She remembered the paltry aid offered during the plague; of how Glynn feared for what that might portend. Now finally so many more of the pieces were in place and the full puzzle painting was visible. The scope and scale of all the factors and players was incredible. A great game of nations, and gods was underway and Natalie was just another piece upon the board. Perhaps a relatively important one, but still a token to be used to assure victory. Just a few months ago that idea would have sparked fury in Natalie, but now it only brought a sense of exhausted nervousness. While she wanted to rant and rage at the gods for letting so many suffer from the plague just so this winning blow might happen; Natalie knew better. A war was being fought, a war that at its core was about her; and she didn’t have any right to complain about what shape victory took.

The Homunculus dug at the cracked stone. Hands still raw and bleeding pushed aside hunks of debris with a madman’s energy. Fingernails chipped and fresh scabs tore as the Homunculus worked. Inhuman muscles bulged as small boulders were tossed aside in a steady crunch and clatter. Sky-blue eyes focused only upon the next rock, uncaring of everything around them; all that mattered was clearing the cave in. Fire-chapped lips muttered the same word over and over, adding a dreadful hymn to the dirge of falling rocks. “No no no no no no no no”

A strong hand gripped the Homunculus’s shoulder, and it spun about ready to fight whoever the interloper was. Grettir the Werewolf jumped back dodging the Homunculus’s vicious punch. Hands raised in surrender Grettir said. “Whoa whoa whoa! No need for that, Sunbeam sent me to check on you.”

Eyeing the large war axe slung over the Werewolf’s back, the Homunculus considered his options before returning to his work. Over the sound of shifting rubble, the immortal vaguely heard Grettir say. “You didn’t respond when I said your name. Obviously, you don’t fully heal after resurrecting, so are you still concussed or maybe brain damaged? It would explain why you stormed out without a second glance for your girlfriend.”

Snarling, the Homunculus glared at Grettir, trying to focus pain-bleared eyes upon him. This resurrection hadn’t been an easy one, the Homunculus could feel much of its body was still broken. Normally the immortal would have simply waited and died a few more times to heal but that hadn’t been an option. When the first hints of consciousness returned to the Homunculus, it had seen the whirling ice of Mina’s magic and her desperate attempt to free the knife from Natalie’s heart. Driven by instinct and vague understanding, the immortal knight aided Mina and then tried to help Natalie. While inside a mindscape, the Homunculus had been divorced from its pain and able to function. Now, back in its broken body and facing the mounting terror of Isabelle’s loss, the thin layer of sanity the Homunculus had managed to recover in resurrection was fading away.

Seeing the madness in the Knight’s eyes, Grettir scratched at his stubble and sighed. Dropping his great-axe he came up beside the Homunculus and got to work on the rubble. “When Sunbeam hired me for this job I didn’t jagging expect to be a lobotomized flesh golem’s nanny. But… I’ve done worse things for coin, so here we are.”

Working together the two monsters moved aside kilos of rock, their unnatural strength and endurance letting them match an entire mine crew’s efforts. In less time than one might expect, a gap in the collapse came into shape. In that small space between shifting stone, the Homunculus caught sight of something that made its efforts frantic; the dull gleam of bone. Squeezing into the gap, questing out with bloody hands, the Homunculus Knight closed fingers about cracked ivory. Pulling back, so the dim light Deborah conjured could shine upon its discovery, the Homunculus growled in frustration. Instead of a skull, the immortal held part of an ashen femur.

Bone cracked as the Homunculus squeezed the femur into pieces. Discarding the bone, the immortal kept working, widening the hole in the rock with Grettir’s help, finding more bits of damaged skeleton. Eyeing the recovered pieces, the Werewolf said. “Well, I think we know what became of this Wolfgang bastard. Fitting for a clot-licker to die in a tomb of his own making.”

Silent except for its heavy breathing, the Homunculus moved more stone and more bone. The pair found legs, feet, a bit of spine and lots of shattered pelvis; but no skull. Eventually, as shifting rock gave way to stagnant cave air, the Homunculus realized they’d made it to the other side. Uncaring of how jagged debris bit at its wounds, the Knight pushed itself through the hole and into the tunnel beyond.

On hands and knees, the Homunculus could feel the grit of fresh ash upon the tunnel floor and smell drying blood. Clambering over pebbles and soot-stained ribs, the Homunculus stood within the dark tunnel, its eyes trying to peel away shadows using the faint bioluminescence of fungal growth. Sniffing the air, stalking forward, hunting knife now in hand, the Homunculus looked back and forth trying to find his responsibility. The clatter of stone and faint curses from behind announced Grettir’s arrival as the Werewolf tried to get his chainmail untangled. Faint golden light filled the tunnel then as Grettir pulled a glowstone from a pocket and kindled its magic. In that warm illumination, the Homunculus finally found the stink of blood’s source.

A little way down the tunnel was a crushed rat corpse, its body smeared along the stone floor like overripe fruit. Squatting down next to the Knight, Grettir examined the ground, pointing at blood-flecked footsteps. “Someone smashed the rat and came to the tunnel blockage, tracking blood on their boots. Then they did something here at the collapse before dragging a load away.”

Staring down at the small but noticeable pile of ash they disturbed in entering the tunnel, the Homunculus had an idea of what that load was. Half of Wolfgang was missing, and young as the vampire was; it wasn’t impossible for a Strix to survive such injuries if helped. Clenching its jaw, the Homunculus marched down the tunnel, sniffing the air for any sign of who or what saved Wolfgang. Bizarrely, the one scent that stood out from the blood and ash was… plaster. Ignoring that oddity for now, the Homunculus kneeled down next to the crushed rat. The greasy black fur and rotund body gave the rodent’s identity away as one of Shortooth’s; but that wasn’t what snagged the Knight’s focus. A dim sense of wrongness itched at its mind, an ache without clear origin or nature.

Powers sealed away by a stargent knife sputtered like wet wood touched by flame as the Homunculus tried to peer into the Aether. But, broken as the Knight was, the magic wouldn’t come, only offering a vague but intense sense of preternatural discomfort. Something strange happened to the Aether in this little patch about the dead rat. Sucking in a rattling breath, the Homunculus tried again, trying to force a spell into being through sheer will and little else. Flickers of knives and the hot pain of flesh being cut smashed into the Knight’s mind. Gasping in shock; the Homunculus fell forward, landing next to the crushed rodent.

With a sigh, Grettir grabbed one of the Knight’s arms and helped it stand. “Let’s get you back to the tower. Sunbeam might be able to sew your parts back together better.”

Shaking its head, the Homunculus forced words from a dry throat. “No, need to find out where she is.”

Struggling against Grettir, the Knight tried to walk down the tunnel. “They can’t be far, she can’t be far. Follow trail, rescue her.”

Grunting as he worked to keep the bigger but thankfully wounded monster from running off; Grettir said. “There isn’t a trail!”

That got the Homunculus to pause. “What?”

Letting go of the Knight, Grettir pointed at the tunnel floor. “I’m one of the best trackers on the blood continent and I’m telling you there is no trail! Whoever was here stepped into thin-jagging air and vanished. Now I don’t know how much of your rotting brain is intact; but hopefully enough to know we can’t follow someone who can teleport! Besides, even if we could, that would be a quick path to your God’s domain and unlike you that would be permanent for me. Anything that can step between places is a dangerous cockbiter, not something to chase after blindly.”

Weakly, the Homunculus whispered. “I can’t… I can’t lose her, not again.”

Grettir made a disgusted noise. “I thought paladins were supposed to be better than this! Your lover and friends are waiting back in the tower, trying to piece themselves back together after a brutal blade buggering. Now is not the time to run off like a cunt-sick whelp!”

Eyes wide with rage and madness, the Homunculus wheeled on Grettir. Lightning quick the Werewolf struck out with a brutal punch, hitting the Knight square in the gut. Organs and muscles barely repaired by resurrection screamed as the Homunculus doubled over. Hoisting the knight up, Grettir snarled. “Not half an hour ago I saw you dive into the jagging Alukah’s demon-haunted soul after coming back from the dead. You saved her and gods know who else; but I think that took all the luck you had left. Now, will you do your duty and come with me or must I beat some more sense into you?”

Duty. That word rang in the Homunculus’s mind like a temple bell. Yes, he had a duty, not just to Isabelle, but to Natalie and the world. He… he couldn’t help Isabelle, not yet; but others needed him. Slowly nodding, Cole whispered. “You are right.”

Grettir slowly released Cole, and the Paladin bowed his head. “I’m sorry… I acted poorly.”

The Werewolf shrugged. “I’m used to idiots acting the beast instead of man. Now I don’t know which you are, but I think you’re capable of at least pretending to be the latter. So let's go back and regroup with the others.”

Chastened, Cole followed Grettir through the small path they’d dug. Only stopping to collect one of Wolfgang’s ribs. Cole didn’t know if his seeking spells would work if side-stepping magic was involved; but he would try later. Besides, even if he couldn’t track Wolfgang using the rib, that didn’t mean another might. Returning to the cavern, Cole glanced around, trying to sort through his jumbled thoughts and make a checklist of everything that needed doing. Gathering supplies from the dead aardigs, laying Masga and Olkar to rest, finding out everything that had happened to everyone else, learning why a Seraphblood had rescued them. It was a lot and-

Cole and Grettir both stopped mid-stride, their ears both catching the same strange sound. ‘RrRrRrRrRrRrRrRr’

Something was grinding along the stone floor, filling the cave with a faint but unceasing note. Glancing around, Cole’s eyes widened as he found the noise’s source. Maybe five meters away lay a pile of broken bone, slowly worming its way along the ground. Faint emerald sparks dripped from plates of cracked ivory as the sound’s origin crawled towards them like a crippled insect. Missing both arms, and with both legs damaged, the Dullahan wriggled forward upon its belly.

Staring at the ruin he’d left in his wake, Cole said. “Pankrator Marcus.”