Stench from the South Pt. 02

Again, he could sense Mattison's wry smile, even through the thick veil of darkness which hung over the hallway.

*****

As the dull grey light of morning spread over the land of Nocturne, and Balthus Crick's eyes had opened to the sight of a log cabin ceiling ten feet above him, a profound metaphorical darkness settled over his own world. The night had been plagued with terrible visions, scenes of his troopers and his Outpost in flames, burning to cinders as strange, malformed figures flooded from its' gates, moaning and howling to the sky above as the fire consumed their flesh. Eventually they saw him, and they came for him with rage and hunger in their eyes. He was frozen in place, entirely unable to move or shout; to tell them that it had all been a mistake, that he hadn't meant for any of it to happen. Just as they crowded around him, their blackened and dead-yet still groping-fingers mere inches from him, he jolted awake. He gasped quietly, took a few deep breaths as he tried to calm his rapidly-beating heart. Then, he went quiet for a moment before sighing to himself.

He stood up, being careful not to bump into the bed where Maelee and Gravin still lay asleep, half-intertwined and naked as the respective days on which they'd been born. He rolled his eyes and smiled to himself; they'd thought themselves so clever back at the Outpost, trying to hide their increasing (and, in truth, blatantly obvious) affinity and affection for one another, even though he and seemingly everyone else had deduced the truth immediately. Balthus-and Lowell, by extension-were of the opinion, though, that as long as it never interfered with their duties, there would be no reason to reprimand either of them. They were simply following their hearts, and there was no crime in that.

Still, he found himself chuckling internally at how careless they'd been, nodding off like this when they knew full well that their commanding officer would be right next to them after his watch. He shook his head with another smile and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He glanced around the quiet hallway, and was mildly surprised to see that Mattison was no longer at the window. Must be off on a piss break or something, Balthus thought. He casually wandered over, glancing out over the yard and scanning the forest beyond. As he scanned from his right, he saw nothing but the slaughtered bodies that he and his fellows had managed to best the day before, and-

A sudden flash of movement caught his eye on the left. He craned his neck, and he peered around the edge of the window in order to get a better look. He only got a brief glimpse, but he could have sworn that it was a person walking into the woods and away from the cabin-not one of these 'dead people', though; this one's walk was too steady and purposeful. He frowned and turned away from the window, heading down the hallway toward the stairs. As he dismounted the final step and scanned the dimly-lit family room, he noticed that Jakobus, like Mattison, was also nowhere to be seen. However, he did hear a low rustling and shifting of objects off to his right, and as he walked into the center of the room he noticed a doorway standing next to the far left wall; that seemed to be the source of the sounds. His hand hovering near his sword, he quietly wandered over and passed through it to find himself in a spacious, rustic kitchen. A great maple dining table and chairs dominated the far end, with a great iron stove and bread oven set up nearby. Counters which had once likely held plenty of food and ingredients now sat bare and collecting dust, as did the cabinets whose doors hung open and dejected. On the far right side wall, only a few paces from the lovingly-carved dining table, was another doorway from which a pair of low voices were emanating. Balthus, his brow furrowed, approached and-ensuring that he was suitably out of grasping distance-peered inside.

"Captain!" The form, face, and voice of Master Jakobus greeted him. "We wondered when you'd be up. Mattison and I have been taking stock of what's in the larder; we thought there might be some useful provisions that we might take with us."

Balthus, relaxing, approached the doorway and glanced around the long shelves mounted on the walls of the larder. "Anything worthwhile?"

"More than you'd expect. Seems someone-or maybe a few someones-came through here already, though, as it's about half-empty. Lot of raw ingredients-flour, sugar, millet, rice, yeast, the like-which aren't much good to us-"

"Unless you want to spend a day baking loaves," Mattison quipped with a grin. Balthus chuckled.

"But we did find some dried goods as well," Jakobus continued. "Some pre-made loaves of bread, for example-might be a little stale, but they'll work-several pounds of dried meat and fruits, as well as some pickled vegetables in jars. I think," he said, placing his hands on his hips and glancing around, "that whoever came calling before us simply couldn't carry all of this with them."

"Lucky us," Balthus said with a nod. "I'm not fond of thievery, but...well, the people who lived here don't exactly have any use for the stuff anymore, and our horses did run off with most of what we had-"

"Don't remind me," Mattison grumbled.

"Anyway, I'll...be right back," Balthus said quietly, backing into the kitchen again, glancing over his shoulder at the door to the family room. "Keep looking, and pack up anything you think might be useful-that we can carry, of course. Also, did you hear anyone leave a moment ago?"

"It will be done, Balthus. And...no, we're likely too far from the door. Is something wrong?" Jakobus frowned, his eyes concerned.

"It's probably nothing, but I want to check around outside."

He strode away before Jakobus or Mattison could protest, and came to the front door. As he lifted the heavy latch, he happened to glance down at the floor next to him, and stopped for a moment, suddenly believing that something was amiss. He didn't have time to think about it right then, though. He shook off the thought and strode outside, closing the door behind him before scanning the forest wall off to his left. He saw only trees-no signs of life. But he'd seen someone, he knew he had; his vision was still as keen as the edge of his sword, and he knew he wasn't going mad (though the world around him certainly seemed to be heading that way). He descended the steps at the edge of the porch, and began to walk quickly to where he'd seen the figure enter the woods.

Yes, there they were. Tracks-fresh human ones, left in the damp earth. Fairly small, too-about the size of a preteen or a smaller woman's. He followed their trail, making as little noise as possible while keeping his eyes on both the ground and the trees around him. They were wholly still, the eerie silence weighing suddenly down on the Captain like a blanket woven of iron strands. He rested his right hand on his sword as he made his way among the trunks, following the shallow footprints in the soil. It wasn't long before he looked ahead and saw that he was approaching a small clearing, at the center of which stood what appeared to be a figure. Its' back was to him, and it was not moving, yet it looked familiar...

"Miss? Bree, is that you?"

At the edge of the small expanse, Balthus stopped between a pair of pine trees and called out to the figure, whom he could now see clearly. He had recognized the quiet woman's gray cloak from the day before, as well as her frazzled brown hair that was still tied back in a simple ponytail. He saw her look up, though she did not turn to face him. After a moment, she spoke.

"Go back to the house, Captain."

"What are you doing out here, Bree?"

"Whatever I please. The land might be on the brink of ruin, but I still have my freedom. Now, go back. Please, Captain."

"Bree," Balthus said, his tone more serious now, "please, just talk to me."

Then, she turned to face him, and Balthus' blood went cold. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks stained with tears. Her expression and posture projected only abject misery, as she stood hunched and so terribly, terribly anguished in the dim, gray morning light at the center of the clearing. Finally, a terrible sense of realization washed over him as he noticed that, in her right hand, was clutched an old crossbow-the same one that Maelee had pointed at him the day before, and then left next to the front door of the cabin.

"I have grown quite weary of talk, Captain. I've had enough of everyone talking to me, talking at me...it's all just noise to me now. Nothing but noise in a fog, sounds with no deeper meaning."

"Well, whatever you're planning on doing with that crossbow isn't going to help matters," Balthus warned.

She chuckled, though the sound was entirely humorless. "I'm sure you know and understand a great many things, Captain. But then again, so do I," she choked, her bitter smile sliding from her face, "and I know that you are wrong."

"Why is that?"

"Because you don't understand. Not yet, but you will. And by then, it'll probably be too late anyway."

"What-?"

"They will spread," she said, her voice suddenly becoming shrill and angry. "They will swarm over this land and spill into yours, devouring everyone and everything they see until only they remain! It is already happening; you saw it, you said so yourself! Well, it'll keep happening!" She was shouting now, her eyes wide and feral, "It's everywhere now! They roll through like a great wave, howling like beasts, and they just set to work, killing and eating, and then eating some more! We cannot stop them, they will only continue to grow in numbers!"

"Bree, I-"

"MY SON!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, her formerly quiet demeanor replaced by something entirely different. "MY SON AND MY HUSBAND! Taken from me, just pulled from my very arms as I tried to HELP THEM!" Her face fell, her eyes seeming to stare off into nothingness, as if she were reliving a memory in real time. "They came, and they broke through the windows, and...and..."

Balthus was dumbfounded. He wanted to speak, but found that he could not. She snapped back to reality and glared at him.

"How dare you," she snarled. "How dare you pretend to know what would help me. I watched it happen; saw them devoured before my eyes, heard the screams as they died, and you think that your words or your company will ease my burden? That they will free me from the torture, the anguish that I live in every minute of every day?! Well, I say you are a fool if you believe such nonsense!"

"I have lost people too, Bree. My whole-"

"I am sorry for the loss of your charges, Captain, for what little it is worth. Truly, I am. But I have no interest in going south with you-in fact, I will not be doing so."

Balthus picked up the sound of fast footfalls somewhere behind him, accompanied by a few familiar voices-ones that sounded like those of Jakobus and Mattison. They'd heard the screams and were coming to investigate, which meant-

"Bree," Balthus said, taking a step forward and she in turn took a stumbling step back, "we're out in the open, and the sound will draw more of those cannibal lunatics! Please, come back with me! We're going to need you! We can help others, save them from-"

"Oh, of course," she snapped angrily, "it all comes down to what you want and what you need! Well, Captain, what about what I want?! Did such a thought ever cross your mind?!"

"And what is that, Bree?"

The anger fell from her face, and she suddenly appeared very frail and utterly exhausted.

"To not feel what I'm feeling any longer."

With surprising speed, she slipped the cocking stirrup of the crossbow beneath her chin. Before Balthus could so much as cry out, she squeezed the trigger with her other hand, and there was a loud 'crack' as the drawstring snapped forward, sending the loaded bolt straight into her skull. She immediately dropped to the ground, the crossbow falling beside her with a clatter. Balthus rushed to her, kneeling down and taking her lifeless body into her hands, trembling with shock as he looked into her dead eyes.

He didn't know exactly how long it was before they found him with the body. He didn't recall exactly what it was they said to him; probably just wanting to know what had happened. After a few moments of back-and-forth, he'd scooped up Bree's small, light form, cradling it carefully in his arms.

"We can't leave her out here. I don't want those lunatics getting ahold of her remains."

"What should we do with her?" Jakobus was quiet now.

"Leave it to me. Let's move."

Just before they left the clearing, Balthus nodded at Mattison. "Grab the crossbow, would you?"

"What? Why?"

"Because we're going to need it, that's why."

Mattison didn't argue. He simply jogged back, picked up the weapon, and together they began the short trip back to the cabin.

*****

No one talked while they all packed their belongings. Balthus had simply walked upstairs and laid Bree's body on the bed in the master bedroom while the others simply stood outside the door in the hallway. He stood there for a moment, and then began to recite a small prayer he remembered from his boyhood, one that he somehow recalled every last word of despite having last recited it almost a decade before, when his grandmother had died. It was a prayer to the Mother, a prayer of guidance and protection for the dead who passed into her Aetherial realm. He felt guilty, in truth, not knowing whether or not she actually followed the Three, or if she was a disciple of Balugar-Soth-but he didn't know any prayers to the Forked One. So, he simply went with what he knew. It would be enough-or, at least, he hoped it would be.

Ten minutes passed on the road before anyone spoke. When someone did, Balthus thanked the Three that it wasn't concerning what he'd witnessed earlier. The forest had thinned out around them, and they now found the road frequently bordered by low, swooping hills covered in knee-high grass. Moisture glistened upon the carpet of stems and leaves, the droplets shining like diamonds as the low winds made them sway gently to and fro. It was while they were trekking through one of these open expanses that Kinley, the Nocturnal lad, piped up.

"We ought be careful when we don't have the forest directly on either side of us," he said in a low voice, "we're exposed, and I don't think I like it much, no sir."

"The lad's correct," Balthus said, glancing around at the members of the party. "Keep your eyes on the trees in the distance; we have no idea what might be hiding behind them, or who may be watching. If you see or hear anything, speak up! It could mean the difference between death and survival, for all you know!"

"I'm with the Captain on this one," Mattison grumbled. "After everything I saw yesterday, I'm willing to allow myself a little paranoia."

"A little paranoia might go a long way right now," Seilin said with a nod. "After all, these crazy cannibals probably aren't the only danger lurking out here."

They all spent the next fifteen minutes in silence pondering her words, marching along with their eyes on the trees and their hands hovering near their respective weapons. Their progress was more than halved due to their not having horses, but they were generally just glad to be alive and walking at this point (though Balthus was still very much stung by the fact that he'd lost Halberd-that had almost felt like losing a limb). After passing through a small, dense grove of tall trees and emerging into a wide expanse of grassland, Anila, Kinley's sister, suddenly gasped and pointed to the west, at a point some distance from the road.

"Look! Out there!"

Balthus followed her finger, and almost immediately saw what had spooked her. His eyes went wide.

"Everyone, get down! Now!"

No one had to be told twice. They all dropped to their hands and knees, trying the stay below the top of the grass. Balthus looked over at Jakobus, who was only a short distance away with one hand on his staff and the other on the hilt of his long dagger. The Captain nodded in the general direction of west, and craned his head up for a second look as the Master Mage followed his lead.

"The rest of you, stay low!" Jakobus' sharp hiss reached everyone's ears, and they heeded his words. The Mage slunk over next to Balthus, who ducked back down.

"How many, do you think?"

"By my count? At least sixty, probably more," Jakobus said softly.

"Do you think they saw us?"

"Hard to tell, but I don't see them changing course," Jakobus replied, taking another look, "so I'll assume that we're safe for the moment."

They were at least a half-mile away and fairly spread out, all of them collectively marching vaguely northwards. The sound of their constant moaning carried softly on the wind, slithering into the party's ears and making them tremble with fear. Balthus watched them trudging on their way seemingly to nowhere, shambling and stumbling as if they had only just begun to learn to walk that morning. But despite their clumsiness, their slow nature, something about the way they marched together-in their search for victims, no doubt-evoked a sense of deep, dark, primordial fear and and revulsion within the Captain. It was a distinctly unpleasant and unsettling feeling indeed-one which he did not want to endure any longer than necessary.

"Should we wait?" Kinley glanced over at Balthus. "They haven't yet seen us; I think the Mage had it right, but-"

"No!" Mattison hissed at the lad. "We can't stay in place, we'd be sitting ducks for anything else that might pass by!"

"What do we do?!" Anila's voice was frightened. Balthus spared another glance across the field, considered for a moment, and stood. Maelee gasped in alarm.

"Sir-!"

"We need to move, trooper. Mattison is right. Just keep as low as you can, move quickly, and for fuck's sake, stay quiet! Now move, damn you!"

They hurried along, each of them frequently glancing over their shoulders to the west, where the horde of figures still seemed to be marching in the same direction. The sound of their moaning could still be heard, faint yet very much present, in the distance. At one point, Balthus glanced behind him to check on his party members, whereupon he observed Mosullah grasping something that lie beneath his tunic, something that was clearly hanging from a string or chain around his neck. He was whispering something to himself as he looked over his shoulder at the slowly receding horde of people in the distance. It wasn't the Common Western tongue; from what little he could discern, his words were of the M'zaeran language, with which Balthus was not wholly familiar (and he'd even been to the place, making it slightly embarrassing on his part). He made a mental note to ask the trooper about it later.

Interestingly, around half an hour after the horde passed out of sight, someone beat him to the punch. It was Anila, whose wide, expressive eyes locked onto the trooper who stood over a full head taller than she.

"Mosullah, were you saying a prayer earlier?"

"Hm? Oh, yes Anila, I was indeed! Specifically, it was an invocation of protection, which I asked of the Goddess of Sands!"

Balthus turned to look at him. "I wondered if that was what you were doing. I heard you too."

Mosullah chuckled, the sound rich and friendly. "At this point, I think we will need all the protection we can get, don't you agree, Captain?"

"I had a M'zaeran friend as a child, one who taught me a little of your native tongue," Anila continued, "though I do not remember much of it anymore, sad to say-just enough to recognize that you were praying, really. However, you said something I didn't quite understand-something about zo-zoum-?"

"'Zoumb'le', was it?"

"Yes, that was it."