Lost in the Light Ch. 11

Suddenly she felt very alone, and very foolish for coming out here. But when she rounded the next tree, she found herself directly inside the middle of the slavers camp, and she wasn't alone. She heard the rustle of a man getting up. She turned to face him and saw one of the human mercenaries spot her. Lysia froze. Time seemed to stop into one long heart-pounding moment as she watched him draw his crossbow, and the one next to him rolled to grab his own weapon lying not far away.

She loosed her first arrow before she realized what had happened. It struck the standing man through the neck, but as he stumbled backwards in surprise he loosed his own shot. She watched it speed towards her head and she threw her hands up instinctively, and dropped the bow. The metal tip scratched across her palm painfully but deflected off into the trees.

She didn't know how she ended up on her back, but Lysia found herself staring up at her wounded hand in shock as the blood ran down her arm. It was a superficial cut, but she couldn't believe it -- it should have run through both hands and hit her in the face. Suddenly she remembered the other man and quickly picked herself up. She found him flat on his back with his throat already slit.

"Hide." A voice growled from nowhere. It sounded like Rollis. Lysia's previous training came back to her with a wash of adrenaline and the rush of combat. She leapt into the trees and began to bound up the branches without disturbing a leaf. Why move like a Zecairin when she wasn't one? When she found the perfect vantage point high above, she hugged herself to the branch and brought the bow under her ready to rain down shots. These two men were just the guards, the main force was out -- and they would be back. She tried to remember the count from back in the cave... three Zeks, and seven slaves?

Her heart was pounding, and she tried desperately to quiet it down. She watched the killed men below and could just barely make out the shape of one of her companions as they dragged one of the bodies towards a wooden cage. Inside she saw the two harpy girls Tamain had mentioned. She hadn't noticed them before. They looked awfully young, she noted. It was her first time seeing a harpy, but she had imagined something more terrifying. They were rumored to be horrible scavengers of the dead. But these two girls looked like young human waifs with wings. As the body was dumped before their cage they attacked the limbs voraciously, tearing into it messily with their teeth. By the way the gore splattered, Lysia could tell those teeth must be very sharp. It was clear they were not waifs. The harpies were removing the evidence of her blunder. Finally her heart started to calm down -- her companions hadn't abandoned her, they were still here, just testing her. She tightened her grip on the bow. It was time for her to make her mark amongst this group.

No more fear. No more hiding. She told herself.

A breezed picked up and caressed her ear. It was an unusual sensation and she had to resist the urge to scratch at it. Then a voice spoke to her.

"Watch and listen." Tamain whispered in a soothing voice. "Wait for my signal. They come."

It wasn't long before there was a commotion headed their way. Four Zecairins came into view dragging someone by a rope. The smell of burnt bird wafted up to meet her senses. She focused on their captive and saw a light skinned woman wearing no clothing. Lysia made out the remnants of charred fleshy stubs jutting from her shoulders that perhaps had once been wings. The woman was bound by a thick strong rope around her arms with the other end held by one of the more eccentric looking shadow elves that followed behind. Another Zecairin, this one a female, held the leash to her neck, and pulled her along. The last two stood behind with spears ready to skewer her.

Their captive stumbled, and Lysia's draw arm started to tremble in anticipation. The one holding her leash struck the captive with the back of her hand, and the other three tensed. Slowly the captive rose to her feet, and continued forward without any resistance. Lysia quietly raised an arrow and took aim. But another whisper on the wind told her to wait, and listen. When they returned to their campsite and saw the mutilated bodies they cursed and swore. The spear wielders struck the captives inside the cage with the butts of their spears until the cries for mercy finally turned into groans of pain. The older captive had already lost her will to fight, and was made to sit before a tree trunk. She was tied to it, with her arms pulled painfully backwards and tied. The rope at her neck that served as a leash was also wrapped around the trunk. It was in this position that Lysia could see that her belly was very distended -- she was pregnant, and far along. Lysia clenched her teeth, her cheek twitched, and her hand pulled back her arrow quietly.

"Not yet..." a firm, but calming voice came to her on the wind. "But soon..."

Harpies eat the deceased, Lysia reminded herself. It was a repulsive characteristic that made them free game to any traveler that wanted to rid the world of any that crossed their paths. But as she looked at this creature now, broken, captive and with child, she came to understand that the laws and rules of the world were very broken. Even a creature such as this should be allowed to live in peace somewhere.

She heard them arguing below, and made out parts of the discussion. They were all that were left -- the harpy had killed the rest of their party before being captured. But that meant one of them would be reduced to manual labor now that their mercenaries had also met an unfortunate end. None of them would lower themselves to such a status before the others. One of the spear wielders, growing frustrated, approached the mother and prodded her belly with the butt of his spear while spewing some sort of Zecairin insult at her. Lysia spooked when she saw the fetus move inside and as the harpy cried out in pain. Such a reaction unnerved the slaver as well and he prodded it again. The harpy wailed in agony as something prodded back...and started to become very restless inside her. Lysia stared, transfixed. As did the harpy's captors. Was this normal?

"On my signal, take the purple-haired male poking her. If they don't surrender, I'll take the green haired male. Keep sight on the woman but don't f..." Tamain's voice reached her up in the branches, but was cut short by the earsplitting shriek of the pregnant harpy.

Her belly had split open and something covered in blood and gore was crawling out.

The purple-haired spear wielder, taken aback, found his spine again and moved to poke at whatever it was. A small blood-covered hand grabbed the spear, and held on. Lysia saw claws on those tiny digits, and the small wings that started to unfurl were leathery and skinned, not feather. Something was very wrong here.
"Shit! NOW~!" Tamain's voice reached her, breaking the spell. Lysia took aim, but the creature had leapt up at the man and tore his throat out without another breath before she could shoot him. It gulped down the morsel of flesh, causing the green-haired male looking on to retch all over the ground. The female Zecairin in black leathers shouted a command, and her sword glowed with magic -- but Lysia ended the rest of it in her throat with a shot through the neck.

The last two slavers looked up and upon seeing her assassin in the trees they spooked and turned to run. The unholy offspring screeched and spread its wings, one fleeing male couldn't get away fast enough and had his face clawed off as it descended on him. As he stumbled, it tore out his throat as well and feasted as it had on the first. Lysia could only stare transfixed, with a sudden fear rising within her -- this thing was not a harpy, and she didn't know what it was. Instinct took over and she took aim at it.
The last slaver beat her to it and took the opportunity of his companions' demise to strike the creature from behind with his weapon. He ran it through the torso, and held on as it squirmed and struggled, releasing an unholy cacophony of screeches. A shadow moved out of the corner of her eye and Lysia saw Tamain at the mother's side. Another shadow came from behind a tree and made for the creature as it -- to its slayer's surprise and fear -- was crawling its way up the spear shaft towards him. The man panicked and dropped his spear just as the creature pulled itself free, leapt at him, and feasted on his face. Rollis pulled up short, seeing himself too late to assist and slowly backed away. Lysia couldn't move; horror had her in its cold clutches.

"Rollis! Cut her free!" Tamain barked, as he had his hands wrist deep in her innards. Whatever he was doing, the harpy was still alive and loudly protesting his manipulation of her wound, but blood loss had reduced her comments to unintelligible drivel. "Stay awake!" he shouted and slapped her with a bloody hand. Rollis had successfully sidestepped the gorging creature and was there with a knife cutting her free.

"What the hell is that?" He growled.

"Not now!" Tamain hissed. His fingers deftly at work grabbing hold of bleeding flesh and arteries and fusing them back together with short bursts of magic. "Get her flat, I can't see the damage." Rollis did as instructed.

"FUCK!" Tamain swore as he felt around inside her. "It got the liver..." he felt around delicately. "but not the spine." He worked as quickly as possible. "Rollis! Free one of the hatchlings, bring her here, tell her she can help her mother. Quickly!"

A moment later the cage door was shattered. The young harpy girls had heard everything and didn't need to be asked twice. Both were at their mother's side as Tamain looked up pleadingly to them. They were bruised and bleeding from a few gashes, but mostly looked healthy.

"I need some of your blood, to replace what she has lost. But not all of it. You'll be fine." Rollis knew the routine, and had a nice cut in the mother's neck, and one on the girl's wrist. She shrieked at first and grabbed her bleeding wrist. "You'll be next when your sister has helped all she can." The other one nodded in understanding. Tamain took hold of the girl's slit wrist as blood started to flow generously and placed it to her mother's neck after the cut was made. There he held it, using his power to make blood flow orderly from the daughter to the mother without spillage. It was simple enough, but not while also trying to mend rent flesh. He had to keep hold of it while he worked.

"What now?" Rollis asked, ready to assist. He had seen Tamain perform medic miracles before. Generic magic healing mended flesh, but not always the way it originally formed. Extensive damage to the body usually could not be healed properly before the subject expired. Tamain knew this, and had developed the healer's art.

"Keep that THING away!" Tamain barked. Lysia had come down to join them, seeing the danger less than what it was -- the creature was content to feast on the fallen and ignored them. But what was just as disturbing was it had grown twice its size already.
Color started to return to the mother's face, and her eyes started to roll open but her mind was loosely awake. Tamain's own face contorted into a snarling scowl with each bright burst of magic healing from his submerged fingers. Sections of torn flesh mended, blood vessels repaired, the liver healed, but the last challenge was hefty -- little remained of her womb, it had been torn out with her offspring. Her offspring... He looked up to the two daughters. His assistant was growing pale and wobbly. He released her from the transfusion and mended her wrist, and had her sister step in. Tamain himself was growing pallid from the massive exertion of magic. But he had saved worse before... and there was still it to contend with.

"Lysia, give your bow to Rollis." Tamain said. His swarthy demeanor was gone, the tone in his voice was ungentle, but fair -- a leader true. She found herself complying despite her fear of now being unarmed. "Rollis, kill it."
"Gladly," Rollis had an arrow in its head before he finished the comment. The creature shrieked and took to the sky on its leathery wings. Lysia stared slack-jawed, as did Rollis. The thing was escaping with an arrow through its skull. "What in the hell?!" he grumbled.
"Track it!" Tamain shouted. "Bring it down and don't let it feed!" The pair was afoot and after it through the trees. Gone.
Harla, the young harpy girl with her wrist to her mother's neck, feeding her her blood, had hoped for a younger brother to play with. But the monster that had come out had hurt Mother, and it should be punished. Yuma would agree, were she not resting on the ground, nearly fainted. Silence grew around them, allowing Tamain some peace to concentrate.

"Thank you," the Harpy said. Tamain glanced up to see her conscious, despite his hand still embedded in her gut. He resumed his work. His scowl had diminished, a sign that he was nearly done.

"I would advise you to rest, but I need answers. There is only one name I know of to describe a creature like that... ghrim'in shka." A Zecairin word.

"Ghrim'in shka..." the harpy repeated with dark humor. "Demon spawn. Yes, that is what it is." she sighed.

"You'll live," Tamain announced. "But I am not sure if you will bear children again." He added apologetically. The mother touched the cheek of her daughter lovingly.

"I have lived long enough to see the end of my kind," She smiled to Harla, and turned her head to see Yuma resting on the ground beside her. Suddenly overcome with joy and sorrow at the same time she teared up as she stroked Yuma's head affectionately. "Thank you for saving them too." Tamain ignored her, he was just about to closer her up when he found an unusual mass inside. His fingers felt its shape to determine what it was.

"Yesss." he hissed in celebration. Grabbing it and repositioning the organ back where it had been torn from, he poured healing energy into the flesh. It reattached, grew a new enclosure, and he withdrew his hand and mended her belly back together. With a huge sigh of satisfaction he released Harla, and collapsed backwards onto his back.

"I expect your next child to be named after me," he chuckled. "Wait... don't eat me." The mother placed her hand over her belly and felt the tender flesh.

"We only eat the dead," the mother corrected him. "You are truly gifted. Thank you. I will gladly live out my servitude for this blessing." Tamain sat up with a scowl. His color was slowly returning now that the strain was over.

"I am not a slaver." He said indignantly. The harpy sat up to return his scowl. Apparently things were not as they seemed with this Zecairin.

"I still owe a debt."

"Then tell me all you know about Demon Spawn, and I will honor it paid"

"As you wish," She said and sat up properly, folding her avian legs under her demurely. A hand reached back to the stubs of her lost wings. Tamain realized his forgetfulness and stood up, but before he could resume her medical treatment her own hands glowed with the yellow hue of magic and touched one after the other. He watched in admiration as boney, skin covered appendages started to sprout from the stumps. It was painful to her, but she held it in as they healed and grew back to their former shape very rapidly. Golden feathers started to sprout by the hundreds. With a final flourish she spread them and stretched the newly formed tendons and muscles. Her hands massaged sore shoulders as she tilted her head and gave him a sultry look when she caught him starring.

Tamain felt the sudden rush of blood to his loins.

But it was the sharp teeth he spied in her barely parted lips and the hungry look in her eyes that gave him a second thought. She rose to her feet. Her wings furled up under her arms, hugging her torso snugly and forming a strapless dress of feathers that -- to Tamain's dismay - covered her large breasts as well as the rest of her. She walked to him in a brazen, yet ladylike glory.

"I am hungry..." she leaned down and whispered in his ear. Whatever spell of seduction she was trying to weave, those words broke it purposely. "Harla, help your sister up. It's time to eat."

Tamain looked away as the harpy girls went to their grisly work. Despite his misgivings, it was how they ate, and he reminded himself to be tolerant. Their carrion being Zecairins, he struggled with his conscience. Despite their wickedness, they did not deserve this fate. But then, life was often cruel. He sat with his back to them, letting them eat in peace, and folded his hands in his lap to meditate and stave off the headache he could already feel growing behind his eyes from overuse of magic. The sounds of rending flesh and crunching bone made the task very difficult.

Demon spawn... Tamain cursed in his thoughts. They were legends meant to frighten children or the gullible. Yet, she had confirmed his fear, and he had no reason to doubt her. Tamain wasn't going to sleep easy tonight unless he had his answers. If it was true, how did she birth one? A more sinister thought took a hard cold grasp of his spine -- was Demon's Blood made with actual demon's blood? Had a corrupted Zecairin mated with her and that was how it was birthed? Were all future generations of Zecair doomed to become one of those? The world would not survive that!

A gentle hand touched his cheek, caressed it, wiped the cold, nervous sweat from his brown, and tantalized an ear until he had been subdued by her touch. It was the best way he had ever been woken from his meditations before. It surprised him that she knew how to do this.

"Demon Spawn are the offspring of an Infected, and one who is not. They cannot reproduce by themselves. They are little more than worker drones with all of a demon's strength, but none of its intelligence." She said as she affectionately stroked his head of short dark hair. "The evil that has spread to Zecair is not responsible." She somehow understood his fear, and had first dispelled it before continuing. Tamain opened his eyes and slowly stood up to face her. She was wearing her gown of feathers and a warm smile on her face -- which was remarkably free of blood from their feasting. The color in her cheeks spoke of her newly found health. There was a follow up question he was about to ask, but he realized the sensitive nature of it before it was voiced. "I last took a human to my nest, and bedded him. He was strong, I could smell it in his veins, and I hoped for strong children by him." Her yellow eyes captured his attention and wouldn't let it go. It was the stare of a predator that had locked onto something she wanted. Tamain found himself having a hard time meeting her gaze with so much of her to also look at.

"They can only be killed by magic. It is the same for their progenitor. But... this human was somehow different. Something is wrong about it" Another matter suddenly stole Tamain's attention.

"Magic?! Lysia!" He whined and grabbed his temples. "My friends won't be able to stop it. I have to find them! They're in danger!" He thrust his hand high above him and summoned a swirling sphere of air above his head. The Harpy took a step back in bewilderment, but licked her lips as that look of desire intensified in her eyes.

"Call for me when you find it. My name is Eola." Eola said.

"Tamain." He replied as his sphere built up sufficient charge. "Of the Discarded." With a high pitched whoosh of rushing wind he was sucked up into the sky at an alarming speed. She watched his form turn to a small dot in the sky as he flew away.

"Tamain," Eola licked her lips. "Of the Discovered..." she cooed to herself and turned to attend to her daughters.

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