Chapter 81: Born A Monster, Chapter 81 – Boredom

Born A Monster

Chapter 81

Boredom

War is long periods of boredom punctuated by brief and deadly activity.

They had started digging inwards toward the third trench, and the outermost had just started linking up. I imagined, as the tents vanished, how much of their trench-town had been rebuilt.

“Their trenches are developing fastest around the southeastern gate.” I told Philecto. “It’s as though they don’t even care if we know which gate they’ll be attacking.”

“Or, it could be a ruse.”

.....

“Or it could be a ruse.” I admitted.

Rina spoke to Awta, who spoke back.

“Yes.” I said, spreading my arms. “We the southerners are stuck. We have no clever ideas, no magical insights. If you have any such, please let us know.”

Rina asked, “What do you know about minotaur heads?”

“They have horns on them?” Philecto said.

Awta pursed her lips. “I don’t have the words. Their heads. Inside. How they...” She waved her hands by her head.

“Think?” I guessed.

“Think.” She agreed.

I don’t see why she couldn’t get that word. I’m reasonably sure she’d used it before. That said, the same thing happens to me.

“Well, my understanding is that they think poorly.” Philecto said.

“Like a child?” she asked.

When Philecto nodded, she started off a long and rapid conversation with the others.

“I mislike when they do that.” He said.

“Why should they not converse in their own native language?”

“Because I can’t understand them. I’m supposed to be leading them, but when they do this...”

“You feel all you can do is watch?”

“And wait. Waiting just eats up coins. I don’t like doing it.”

“So why are you attempting to reach immortality?”

He shrugged. “It beats doing nothing. Besides, I don’t think Adara’s going to make it. If it were that easy, elves would all actually be immortal, instead of pretending to be.”

“It’s just something to do to pass the time?”

“Meh, too much time thinking for me. Barmaid, ale!”

“I have a thought.”

“Please keep it to yourself.”

“I mean about minotaurs.”

“Oh? In that case, please share.”

“I don’t think they’re stupid.”

“If you’re waiting for me to say elaborate, or some such, I notice that window is open. I could throw you out of it, and nobody other than those present would care.”

“No, I mean think about it. Workmen have a saying, when the only tool you have is a hammer all your problems look like nails. I mean that if we were born with minotaur strength, why wouldn’t we learn to use that strength to solve our problems?”

“And you think, what? He’s just solving problems?”

“Philecto, I think he’s learning that brute strength won’t solve everything.”

“He seems rather dedicated to the concept that it does.”

“I’m not sure about that. I think he’s ... evolving.”

“Unlikely. Evolution on that scale takes magic, or Taint, or both.”

“Changing, then.”

“And will those changes stop him from breaking in the gates and charging for the city center?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then,” he sipped on his ale, “it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

#

Dina took out the map, and we went over the plan again.

Gate falls, charge through guards, maybe get wounded, head straight for the town center, none of it had changed.

“Wait. I know what’s wrong with the plan.” I said, reaching for the green stones. I laid them out like a wedge behind Rakkal.

“Yes?” asked Faraj.

“The Uruk are rampaging in the city. If we don’t contain that somehow, it doesn’t matter who wins at the town center.”

“Of course, it matters.” Faraj said. “Cut the head off a snake, and the snake dies. We kill the minotaur, and we go home.”

“We should have a plan to survive after the battle.” I said.

“Well, we seem to have talked everything else to death.” Philecto said.

“We seem to be as prepared as we’re ever going to be.” Dina said.

“Okay, in Montu’s Glory, the Uruk spread out along side streets. Warriors, civilians, children, pets – it was a slaughter.”

“It’s called sacking a city.” Rina said. “The dead are the lucky ones.”

“I saw signs of looting, but none of burning buildings to the ground.” Philecto said. “They knew they were holding control of that city.”

“I doubt even Rakkal has a butt so big he needs two thrones to sit upon.” Awta said. “We should ensure at least one safe area prepared to fight fires if need be.”

“One should be inside each gate.” Faraj said.

“I don’t understand. Whatever gate they come through will be wasted time.” Philecto said.

Faraj leaned back, smiling as though he had just won a prize. “True, but we have a choice of two safe areas, and if all looks lost, we can fall back either outside the gate or perhaps at the other rock.”

Philecto nodded. “I concur. We need to determine what we need at each rock. I nominate water, perhaps a well, bandages, and healing potions.”

“Arrows and spare bowstrings.” Said Awta.

“I will want a spare spear, we might want swords for Rina.” Dina said.

“Shields.” I said, “Both large and small.”

And in this manner, we built up a list for our bases, each one set to support a band of stalwart heroes in a heroic stand. Complete with multiple routes of escape so that it didn’t become a final stand.

I set my coins onto the table. They were paltry, if not few.

“What is this?” Awta asked.

“What I can contribute toward paying for all of this.”

There was a round of Kathani discussion, and the list began getting pared down. Most of the equipment was pared down to a single set, what could fit into a backpack.

“No small shield.” Said Faraj. “The lizard-kin is usually not standing by the second fight.”

I nodded. “That seems fair.”

#

All in all, it had been a productive night. I just wanted to curl up in my bunk and...

And someone else was in my bunk. Someone small, probably just a child.

That child was Agnopos, also known as Chanter. In his restless dreams, the lad kicked and murmured.

It wasn’t like I didn’t have a thin layer of subdermal cushioning that protected me from the cold floor.

Still, cot or floor, I will always take a cot. I woke up grumpy.

“I’m taking my bath before you get yours.” I grumbled.

.....

historical

“I... uhm, deal. That’s fair.”

I caught looks both from and to Agnopos during breakfast. Not that gruel without salt or butter is exciting, but these were abnormal looks.

“Welcome back, lad. The wall can use you. Same partner.” Sergeant Gilean said.

Ever have one of those moments where an unspoken tension is suddenly released? Where it would actually feel natural to hear a collected sigh of relief? This was one of those moments.

“I’ll show you the area of the wall we’re watching. No arrows yet, but normal cautions.”

The sun was halfway to high before he spoke to me.

“Are you... okay with this?”

“What standing on the wall? It’s boring, yes, but-”

“With me. Are you worried about standing on the wall with me?”

“No more so than without you here. Why, have you developed a habit of pushing people off the wall?”

“What? No, of course not.”

I shrugged, looked back at the trenches. “I’m not sure I understand the question.”

“You’re not worried that some residual part of my madness might infect you?”

Might WHAT? Since when was THAT a thing?

I caught myself chuckling. “Not in the least.”

“Cats, dogs, mice, everywhere. There’s four kinds of Taint, and Madness is the third.”

I sighed. “Are you sweating liquid madness?”

“What does it look like?”

“I understand Taint to be black, not a normal black but as though light itself won’t touch it.”

“I don’t think so. Check the back of my neck?”

“That’s blood from scratching too much. You probably need to drink some water, and an aloe balm might not be a bad idea. Oh, that is a tick. Maybe you SHOULD bathe before me, Agnopos.”

And that was it, the moment of grand stupidity where Agnopos decided that we were best friends. Did nothing I noticed for my Charisma, or any of my Charisma skills.

Charisma just sucked.

“Is.. is it all right if I still want to be part of a siege weapon crew, someday?”

I shrugged. “Having goals is important in life.”

“I mean, I heard we lost two of them during siege day.”

“From whom? You are better informed on the matter than I am.”

“I... they say I can tell you.”

“Who?”

“The bricks. Don’t run telling the sergeant, just hear me out.”

#

It would have been simpler if he had just been mad. It turns out that if your town wall stands unaltered for long enough, earth elementals and such might move in. But there were other spirits, and those were the ones Agnopos had learned to contact during his madness.

I know what you’re thinking; I spent a thousand development points, he gained a new means of communication, maybe there’s something to this Madness.

Don’t.

Just don’t.

Madness, like emotional turmoil, is a period of being out of control. When literally anything can happen, that something is usually bad. Witness my crippling divisor, or Agnopos deciding that siege weapons were the modern dragons of warfare.

Now imagine what happens when that sticks, when it becomes the normal mode of thinking. When picking up the wrong fork at dinner becomes cause for an actual curse, or one is convinced that one’s Labrador is in fact, the reincarnation of some hero from the past.

Anyway, I could sense them, they were definitely real spirits.

They didn’t want to speak with me.

“They say they’re afraid of you. And ... angry?”

“I scrub this wall as well as any other.” I said.

“No, they say you failed to protect your spirit, or some such.”

“It is true.” I said. “I became too injured to protect Black Snake, and she died.”

“Black Snake?”

“She was my shadow familiar. You saw her.”

“I thought that was part of my madness. I thought this... I feared this might be, too.”

“Nope. Real as any other spirits.” I said.

“How real is that?”

“Well, without getting into the depths of Shamanism, or Animism, or Spirit-Calling, or whatever you wish to call it, a spirit is only as real as the mana it absorbs.”

“But ghosts are real. Aren’t they spirits?”

“Ghosts are real, and yes, are spirits. You can think of them as remnants, created by the departure of a soul from this world.”

He shook his head. “No, I mean, aren’t ghosts the souls rejected by the afterlife?”

“No, those are lost souls, which again are still spirits. But that’s an entirely different thing than ghosts.”

“The stories make them sound alike. Ghosts can become spirits, which can also become ghosts.”

“Well, partially correct. Spirits near a significant death will sometimes become ghosts, but it is rare for a ghost to become a normal spirit.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Dogs. Death. Ghosts are aspected toward death. They would have to release that part of their being in order to become a different spirit. It’s not something most spirits can do.”

“But ... purity rituals? Ghosts can be released from the call of death, right?”

“I’ve never heard of such. That said, my training is incomplete. Such a thing might be possible.”

“It is. I know it.”

You’ll forgive me if I remembered the last time I heard such a thing from him.

An arrow struck the bottom of our buttress.

“It will be soon.” I took cover behind the crenalation.

“Tomorrow?”

I shrugged. “Soon.”

#

I understand why Awta had trouble translating this. The rock is a stable platform, solid footing. I think the nearest translation is base, but the literal translation also works.

Subdermal means “under the skin”. I use it here not because it is a snotty intellectual term, but because it contains fewer letters.