Born a Monster

543 To Plan Dumbly

“You can put those neeglings back.” Nogar said. “Wait, those aren’t neeglings.”

“Plains cats.” Negla said, with a voice happy enough to sprout flowers in fertile land. <1 >

“I don’t like this plan.” Mohr said. “Plains cats bite and scratch.”

“We can put the bags into a pile and have Critter here put them to sleep.” she said.

“Some of us have allergies.” Zoltar protested.

“The hair stays in the bag.” Doran said.

“So,” I asked, “what is the rest of the plan?”

Never ask unless you want to know.

“Simple plan.” Doran said. “We keep the morlocks between us and the Merge Flesh, and pelt it with spells.”

.....

I rubbed the right side of my jaw. “That is an amazingly simple plan.” I agreed. “I admit I was expecting something with a bit more detail.”

Nogar sighed. “We have been unable to agree upon the specifics of which combined spells and rituals we’ll be casting. It would help if we could preview the battlefield, and assess what levels of Taint we’re talking about. We may even be reduced to using physical weapons.”

“A pity then,” Doran said, “that only I and Negla specialize in ranged weapons.”

“I have a crossbow.” Mohr protested.

“Yes, but when was the last time you fired it?” Doran asked.

Mohr squinted. “Are you offering to be a target?”

“We have better targets right here.” Nogar said, indicating the sections of metal fencing. “You can try aiming at these swirls here.”

Mohr shook his head. “Fences don’t dodge. It’s practicing for the wrong kind of battle.”

“How fast can this flesh thing be?” Zoltar asked.

“Again, we cannot know that.” Nogar said.

“And again, we come to asking the morlocks for a probing attack, so we can see these abilities with our own eyes.” Doran said.

“They seemed to think tonight was going to be a full battle.” I said. “I don’t think they’ll agree to a scouting strike, if they understand what that is.”
“You said morlocks were smart!” Mohr shouted at Nogar.

“They are.” he replied. “We can count on them having already assessed the strengths of this Merge Flesh. They seem to think we have a chance, as you and Zoltar both pointed out.”

Zoltar pointed a finger at me. “You failed to gather enough intelligence on what this woman has become!” he accused. “You had plenty of time for a folktale, we needed practical knowledge of this thing.”

“Or,” I said, “we could take what knowledge they gave us, and live to actually see it with our own eyes.”

“Oh.” Zoltar said. “At least you admit you’re a coward, then. Thank you, Coward Critter, for placing all our lives at risk instead of just your own.”

I stopped the grating of my teeth. “You are not entirely wrong.” I said.

He continued anyway. “I should call upon the skies to... WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“I’m preparing to brew eight doses of the Plains-strider’s Healing Potion.” I said. “We can’t ensure we won’t take wounds during this battle, and it will help to be prepared.”

“If the Taint doesn’t just reach into your inventory and corrupt them.” Doran said.

“It is a good point.” Doran said. “We should empty our inventories of all magic, either wearing it on our bodies or leaving it here in camp.”

“Won’t the morlocks just steal our things as soon as our backs are turned?” Mohr asked.

“Well?” Doran asked me, “What is your analysis, o Ambassador Animal?”

“Take anything dear enough to you that you want to keep it.” I said. “The morlock legal system is... worse than what the Norvik use.”

“And after the battle?” Negla asked. “How likely are they to turn on us?”

I coughed up some dust that had gotten down my throat. “Very.” I said. “Depending upon the wounds we take versus the wounds they take. They don’t have honor as we understand it.”

“What WONDERFUL allies you make for us, you diplomat!” Zoltar snapped.

“Whatever you’re actually angry at Zoltar, I doubt it is me.” I said.

“Why shouldn’t it be?” he asked. “You spoke to them, this whole thing is your fault, especially that we don’t know how much magic it will take to kill.”

I blinked in disbelief. “It’s a mother protecting her child with the darkest source of power that would answer her. We have to hit her with everything available to us. If we let her take the initiative, the Merge Flesh has enough raw power to kill us all. To easily kill us all.”

Negla tried to smack me in the head, but she was nowhere near as quick as Kismet. “You said we could kill it.” she said.

“We can.” I said. “And I think we have to. If this thing gets at the dead upon any of the battlefields of this war... I think there will be no Achea. No Tidelands. No Uruk. The land will become dead and corrupted, and all that will remain are the Twisted and Tainted. I think either we stop it, here, now, while it’s still weak, or it kills everything.”

Doran chuckled. “THAT is the speech you should have given in the morning.”

“I hadn’t thought about that in the morning.” I said. “Now, please excuse me, I need to brew healing potions.”

I had my misgivings. Four hours, and they couldn’t... no, they were discussing with Negla, in whispered tones. There WAS a plan, and they didn’t want me to know it.

Gods. Wasn’t it enough that we were up against an actual monster? That our allies would normally have tried to kill and eat us? No, clearly it wasn’t! Why shouldn’t the warrior mages turn on me, also? Why would my life have gotten any better?

With a sigh, I reminded myself that Nogar and his coven were loyal to Harkulet. Not me, not to Rakkal, and not even to the Empire itself. They were the tools of Harkulet, the Voice of Rakkal, the Red Sage, and I had been a fool to trust any of them.

So... What were they planning, and how could I resist it?


I stirred and mixed and boiled and slowly imbued the magic needed. I could have made them quicker, or just left them for my System to make, but I needed time to think.

It was hard to believe they’d betray me to the Merge Flesh; didn’t they need me for the repairs of the fence?

What if they didn’t?

Could Harkulet, or his spies, have known what was here? What did he gain by making such a thing stronger?

A cold thought crept down my spine from the most ancient part of my reptilian brain.

Rakkal.

A thing like this was ideal for killing Rakkal. What would his physical powers avail him, when faced with a creature that only needed to touch him. Mind, I’d seen him soaked in boiling tar and continue to fight.

But this was something else entirely. If he were told I’d been absorbed into this thing... well, he wouldn’t care or even be overly surprised. So that plan wouldn’t work.

What WAS Harkulet’s angle on this? What did he have to gain?

Me. For some reason, he was trying to kill me.

I don’t know how I knew this thing. There was no actual evidence.

“Harkulet...”

Okay, I couldn’t say it, so it wasn’t true. So what WAS his angle?

And did that mean it was Nogar? Was he planning to sacrifice me to save the lives of his coven? It was the sort of thing I thought myself capable of.

“Water.” I said, “To strengthen the mix. Nature mana, to empower the herbs. Animal mana, child of nature, to aid the transition from potion to drinker. Merge, o magics, and become one. Produce an elixir of vitality, of life. Draw upon the power of nutrition, and speed the process of healing. Brew Healing Potion!”

And the mixture stopped expanding, began to shrink. It changed from the clear brew with flecks of herbs into an opaque red, like what blood would look like if it were more vibrant, and lit from within by the magic of life. I’d done nothing to cool it; it still bubbled and boiled, even as it changed from its components into something more.

The steam formed droplets on the inside of glass phials intended to hold war oil. It wasn’t without its stresses, brewing potions. But then, I’d made meals that drained me more. My stomach grumbled, and I set about pulling supplies from my inventory, looking up to see...

Where HAD the time gone? I’d meant to mix and bake some bread. Had our hunting trip taken so long?

But no, I had helped to catch live plains cats. (I would feel much guilt over this later, even though they had tried to kill us both.) I had brewed the potions that would cause Taint to flow into them rather than into us.

Was there still an us? Did they mean to betray me, or were they secretly plotting something else?

Whatever, I had done my part and more of these preparations.

“There.” Negla said. “The morlocks arrive.” She smiled. “I count three dozen, by the spears.”

<1 > Yes, I can say this because it’s an actual cultural saying. I’m not saying she had magical faerie powers to grow plants. (Although that IS a cool magical power.)