They were all bugbitten and frustrated, and all of them were pretty keyed up from the croc attack their first night on land. Had dragged one of the workers back into the water.
They had tried to dispatch the beast but it had been too quick, and even if they had, the Knight had been preoccupied with a massive python that had almost engulfed his squire.
“Damned beasts! Pets of the scaled devils!” he had blustered unhelpfully at the time.
Now they were deep in the brush of the swamp, where everything crawled, bit, stung, or scratched, and it was even louder at night.
Then they finally came to something of a clearing, and all of them stood in wonder at the sight. The wailing cry echoed out again like a dirge, followed soon after by one that was almost a cackling laugh.
“Sir… what was that?” The idiot squire asked.
“A skirnet, and then a urkling.” The knight said, sounding unconcerned.
That might have been a skirnet. But that sounded too big for an urkling. Rufus thought. He wouldn’t mind a big urkling, they were tasty.
It wasn’t long before the group had set up camp, and Rufus wasn’t the only one glad they were almost done with this trek.
Tracking the group of nearly two score Smoothskins only became easier once they beached the rafts and headed inland. It was like they couldn’t help but be easy prey.
Clearing brush and trees. The smell of their campfires traveling for miles. The hot coals not buried to hide the location. Footprints not obscured at all.
Even if he hadn’t been graced with the keen senses of a predator, Tok would know of their passing.
Idiots.
It was a wonder any of them had survived since their betrayal of the first genera eons ago. That the Falsescaled had not corrupted them.
He was disgusted that he managed to get within ten meters of their camp, stared right at the guide, his eyes bleary with sleep, and left without him raising any alarm. Humans in particular, were a blight and a waste of resources.
Soon. He hissed softly, agreeing more and more with his Instinct as he slunk away to make his own camp.
That night, the mists played tricks on Rufus. He could have sworn that there had been a giant Lizardkin, black as night, tall as a tree, with big blood-red eyes that stared at him with vertical slits for pupils. When he had sat up though, it had vanished.
“What is it, Bass?”
Rufus turned to face Sir Jasper, the knight’s handlebar mustache standing out because of the white hairs in it.
“Thought I saw a big one, damn near twenty feet tall, maybe taller. Black as night. Just the aether messing with my dreams again though.”
The old knight placed a gauntleted hand on Rufus’s shoulder. “They get big, the damned Blackscales, taller than Pike. But only by a few inches.” He gave Rufus a pat “And most are awkward, attacking without strategy. They are beasts of Sch?nezk.”
Rufus swallowed, not liking the sound of things taller than the giant mercenary. “Suppose you pray to Jonius for us that we make it through this.”
The knight chuckled “Oh we will, but I will pray that we enact His plan regardless.” He gave Rufus a nod and went back to his tent, and did just that, kneeling and praying.
Can’t hurt. Rufus rolled over, and closed his eyes, trying to get back to sleep.
The next day they made it all the way to their destination.
Ruins from a previous age. Full of secrets, and usually, treasure.
Ruins were not uncommon, and it was said that the whole world was laced with them from ages past, but these, these were on quite a different scale. Buried deep in the muck, most likely having sunk into the swamp itself, what was exposed was massive, almost six stories tall.
Immediately they set to work, the dwarf overseeing the digging, while Jasper and Fin organized a team to set up the camp, starting with finding a place to keep the warhorse that the knight had insisted on bringing along.
Scarlett joined the people digging, checking for ancient mechanical traps while Rowan looked for runic ones. With Pike’s help, Rufus gathered the few remaining workers and started gathering wood for the cookfires. He didn’t like the need for them, but they were out of water, and you had to boil it in the swamp.
They made excellent headway, digging down into the soft soil, using timber to hold back the mud from filling back in as they got closer and closer to the original entrance to the ziggurat.
Several buried chests had been found, and Scarlett was called over to pick them open after one of the workers was killed with a poison dart when he tried to open one with his shovel.
“These ruins, they are far older than I ever expected!” The Silversmelt dwarf exclaimed, excited, examining the stonework and making a sketch of some of the carvings.
“Well professor, so long as old means gold, I’m right chuffed.” Pike grunted, his rippling thews bunching as he gripped a boulder with both hands, straining against it before lifting it out of the way and tossing it to the side, opening up the way in.
None of them could get past Scarlett, who slipped in with a torch almost before the way had been cleared. “Good, any longer and I’d have slit my own throat to save the debt collectors the trouble.”
“Hell, I’d die of boredom if there wasn’t the promise of treasure.” Radcliff said in his gravelly voice, dusting his hands and following after her. “That and if the view wasn’t so nice.”
“By the gods! Look at this!” Scarlett’s voice echoed from inside the ruin.
The whole team rushed in, even Fin and Jasper, and the inside was a marvel to behold.
Piles of gold, coins of ancient make, gleamed red in the torchlight. Pools of crystal clear water held figurines, and cut gems that sparkled even as blind fish swam around them lazily.
Jasper picked up gleaming silver swords and glittering spears, and his squire gasped and pointed at the runes on one.
Scarlett was stuffing her pockets with the gems, her yellow in black eyes gleaming with the light of freedom.
Rowan chortled and started to stack and count with the speed of a banker.
And Radcliff stomped into the pool, scaring the fish and pulling out statues and figurines, planting one crown on his head before tossing it aside for an even grander one.
Rufus fell to his knees, scooping up two fistfulls of coins, and just let them run though his fingers. The gold was cold and heavy, and he loved it more than anything in that moment.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
It was more than any of them had expected, even the digging team could buy farmland and indentured farmers to farm it from the empire now. Rufus’s share would mean that his family line would never have to work a day of their lives ever again.
I don’t have to worry about this curse for much longer!
They scrambled to take every last piece.
That night, they celebrated, opening up the rum they had brought, though Rufus, Jasper, and the Dwarf all insisted that they make grog instead of drinking it straight.
In spite of that, Rufus found himself quite tipsy late into the night, happy for the first time in ages and in desperate need of a tree.
Night had finally fallen as Tok crept forward, moving on all fours now, reducing his height by dragging his belly. His stygian coloring blending well in the thicker vegetation where it was darkest.
He looked through the underbrush that they hadn’t decimated. A tiny flame of righteous fury began to glow.
The smoothskins had ransacked the ruins of the first genera. Heaping the yellow earthbone coins, trinkets, and statues out on the surface. Stone tablets and crinkled tomes joined the pile as well. The possessions of the genera they had betrayed. That they had murdered.
Tok was unbound from the agreement with that single act.
And they celebrated their work as if they had conquered a foe. Imbibing heavily. He could smell the alcohol yards away.
Distilled.
He let the tip of his tongue flicker out. It was dark enough now to not worry about its bright color.
Probably rum. It smelled local.
Their guide staggered away from their fires, grinning stupidly, slapping at a mosquito before dropping his trousers, starting to urinate on a tree. Sighing contentedly.
Tok’s tongue flickered out again. The guide smelled local too.
Should know better.
A lesson.
After he’s done.
The predator didn’t want to get any on him if he could help it. Tok waited, creeping closer. Moving slow so that the sound of his approach wouldn’t alert the whole camp.
Taking his time.
The guide finished with another sigh, struggling to pull up his trousers as he stumbled. Tok moved closer still. Testing himself. Seeing just how close he could get. It would be a good gage of just how intoxicated the group of them were.
The massive Blackscale hissed gently, fluttering the fur on the guide’s head. He looked right at Tok. Eyes going wide. The predator growled, glaring down at the interloper. The man was less than two meters tall.
Miniscule.
“Trespasser.” He whispered, in the human’s own tongue. The sibilance of his accent dragging the word out.
The human’s mouth opened to scream. Tok grabbed him, his massive hand engulfing the human’s torso. He squeezed the air out of the guide’s lungs, the scream becoming a gurgle as he spat up blood.
His bloodshot eyes went wider still as Tok’s head moved closer. The guide shook his head, tears streaming down his face. He beat fruitlessly against the Blackscale’s massive fist with his own.
Weakling. Pity filled him, blending with his hate of all scaleless. Solidifying into contempt.
The Blackscale stood slowly to his full height. Taking the human with him. More than six meters off the ground.
A mercy.
He squeezed the parasite. The guide popped with a satisfying burst of hot sticky gore. His mouth still moved silently, arms twitching like the smashed bug that he was. Begging for his sire.
Tears and blood streamed from his bulging eyes.
Then they dimmed.
Tok opened his hand. The shattered remains of everything below his shoulders separated with a wet squelch. Splattering onto the ground.
The others had all turned to look in his direction, but they couldn’t see him in the night, their already weak vision ruined by the fire.
“You alright over there?” One called.
“Can’t hold his drink.”
“Lightweight.”
They all started laughing.
Tok’s eyes shifted to regard the campsite. He threw what was recognizable at the main campfire, knocking several of the human fodder over in the process. They started screaming and leaping away from the corpse. He could almost smell their fear.
Kill!
He bellowed his challenge, answering their terror with his wrath. Already charging forward. Smashing through the canopy with ease. Branches and vines sundered in his wake.
Those still awake rushed to grab weapons. Many staggered worse than the guide, drunk.
He lifted his head, exposing the bright red patch at his throat as he charged in.
His claws tore through one of the tents, mangling the foes within as they scrambled to join their pack. They screamed in pain and death as blood sprayed everywhere. He flung the corpses from his claws at others still readying themselves.
Let them know the horror!
He searched for the knight, looking for the horse. It wasn’t there!
Gods damn him! Where is-
“Loose!” The dwarf shouted.
Tw-t-t-twang!
The snap of many bowstrings!
The arrows clattered against his scales. Gleaming earthbone heads bright to him in the night. Some wedged there, but none pierced his thick hide. They only left bruises and unsubstantial cuts.
One glanced off his face, close to his eye. With a growl Tok lifted his forearm to protect both. Something he had seen the knight do all that time ago. Tok had relied on the technique during his years as a mercenary amongst the parasites.
There were other weapons here he could use.
The other fodder had hidden in the excavations, led by the third genera scholar. The dwarf clearly had some military experience like most of the mountain dwellers.
He had them in three lines when Tok peaked. And they aimed right for his eyes when they did.
The dwarf didn’t take up a weapon himself though. Just ordering the others about.
“Keep shooting! Buy time for the others! It will hunt you down if you try to flee! And get the gold and artifacts to the rafts!”
Unsurprising.
He expected the others in the tents to rally and reinforce.
Idiot. This is extermination. None would survive.
Tok scooped into the dirt with one hand. Using it to protect his claws and palm from the blazing coals and wood he flung in amongst the tents. With the other he grabbed the barrel of rum.
Still almost full, near to forty gallons.
It cascaded out in a wide ark over all the tents and many of the running eighth genera. The coals igniting it handily.
Screams of pain and fear echoed through the night as humans ran from their tents, their skin burning as they tried to flee. Dropping and rolling to try and put it out. They didn’t manage it, not in time anyway. Tok had found the cask of lantern oil.
Roiling billows of black smoke and the Smoothskin’s screeches of death filled the sky. The smell of their seared flesh a promise of the feast to come.
That done, the predator leaped into the excavations with a thunderous boom. Shaking the ground and knocking a few of the fodder down there over. Skipping the earthen ramp they had made to cart out soil and debris. Stones cracked beneath his weight, telling him that this ruin was newer than most.
Arrows continued to pelt him, forcing the Blackscale to protect his eyes. The annoying bites of mosquitos to the warrior.
He bent low, reducing the size of their target. Searching through the stacked lumber as arrows continued to clatter against him. Spearmen began to form ranks.
He knew there would be a good piece somewhere around here. Thirds always insisted on overbuilding for safety’s sake.
There.
Hickory.
Ducking his head and still hiding his eyes with his forearm. His claws sank into the wooden beam as he picked up the square lumber. Meant for bracing, it was something near to twenty centimeters a side. What the Smoothskins would call an eight-by-eight.
He turned his back to the archers, letting the arrows bounce off the thicker scales there. With one pull of his claws, he took the harsh corners off the end. Made it octagonal.
It fit his hand perfectly.
Spears jabbed into his wrist, and he growled, sweeping violently with his tail. Breaking their unarmored forms and the formation alike. The smoothskins he didn’t hit staggered back and away, starting to regroup.
Tok didn’t let them.
He turned towards the pack. Taking his new weapon in both hands. His eyes swiveled to the archers.
CRACK!
The spearmen didn’t even have a chance to scream as they were mashed into chunks. The pieces crashing into the archers with enough force that bones broke. The dwarf grabbed one of the archers and used him as a shield. Ropey intestines and gore splattered into the eighth instead.
Tok bellowed and rushed towards them as they started to flee, laying about him with his new weapon. Wading through the remaining spearmen. Taking one hand off of it to slash with his claws too. Not wanting to make cooking too difficult later.
Blood coated his claws and legs up to his knees, and he hurled the beam at the contingent of archers. It burst in a shower of splinters against the ruin proper, the splinters impaling all of them, outright crushing two as it hit the wall. All save the dwarf, who yelped and dropped the corpse of the fodder he had used to protect himself.
Tok started towards the blubbery smoothskin, growling.
Thunk!
Tok roared in pain. Glaring down at his thigh. A massive human warrior had buried his ax into it. He met Tok’s glare silently, a slow bearing of teeth, a smile forming. Confident. Sure. And though his thick scales and skin protected him from the worst of the strike, it still hurt.
Impressive for a parasite.
Break him. He growled, lifting his hand.
The fiendkin dropped from the tree, landing on Tok. Thin longknife thrusting at his eye. He shook and she fell, stabbing a knife into his shoulder to hang on.
Tok slashed with his claws at the warrior, feeling the female flop against his back. The warrior surprised the apex by ducking under the swing.
Clever! He had been buying her time to strike.
The female, for her part, managed to hang on to him as he moved. Shaking his whole body to try and dislodge her.
Fine specimens both. A shame they must die.
They and their offspring would’ve been fine challenges to the brood. Unfortunate for all involved parties it seemed.
“There you two are!” The dwarf shouted, sounding relieved. “Kill that beast!”
Tok shook harder, feeling the whole body of the fiendkin pull away for a moment before slapping against his back once more. The warrior had to backpedal as the Blackscale tore an obelisk free and hurled it like a javelin.
“Fuck! You idiot! You said they didn’t care about gold!” The fiendkin screamed back.
“Maybe we’re in its territory?” The warrior chuckled, sidestepping Tok’s claws. Holding his hand tight like a blade. He swung with his tail. The fiendkin stabbed in another knife, throwing off the attack with the distraction.
He growled, shaking his body again more violently. If he could just-
Thum-dum.
Tok blinked.
He knew that call. The rolling cycle of the world. It yanked at him, gnawed at him like he was the last bone.
Of all times!
PATREON! It is currently at 20 chapters ahead, and will always be at least 15 ahead! All money there goes right back into making the series as good as I can, and every cent of it is appreciated more than I can say.