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Chapter 266: Friend human
🕑 Added 2024-05-21 14:00:06 +0000 UTCNaya ran for the rocky ground, heart pounding, knowing now she would die in this place. She had watched her brave scouts fall one by one, their impressive speed eclipsed by the four-legged beasts, their arrows almost useless. Elves were not meant to fight in open terrain against such a foe. They had no other strategy, no way to adapt, and no chance.
"I'll kill at least one of you!" she screamed, loosing another arrow from numb and bloody fingers.
Like the others, it reached her target and at the last minute just bounced away. Her arm was on fire, her lungs strained to bursting. She was so very tired. And every part of her wanted to just slump to the rocks and wait to die.
But she refused. She knew these creatures hadn't killed her because they often caught females of other races. They enslaved them. They bred them like mares, making all sorts of unholy monstrosities. And elven women would be the highest possible prize. But Naya would not be taken. She would fight them, and force them to kill her.
"Come on!" she shouted, throwing a few nearby rocks until she felt she had the strength to draw her bow. Then one of the centaur charged straight passed her. He'd moved so quickly she hardly realized, flinching as the creature's short blade flashed towards her throat. She thought it was over, that her death had arrived.
Instead she heard a crack, and the string on her brother's bow snapped as the wood straightened. She stood stunned, seeing some of the other creatures had nets and man-catchers. They're going to take me, she realized, I'm not even enough of a threat to worry them.
Her mind turned to the knife at her belt. She couldn't kill one, perhaps, but she could deny them their prize. I'm coming, she thought to her father and brother. And I'm sorry, Mother.
No doubt she would still be angry, still wounded from what she thought of as a betrayal. And still waiting in the fey city for her family to return. Now none of them would.
Naya withdrew the knife, and when she pointed it towards her own throat the centaur finally stopped whooping and paused.
"No need for that," called one of them. "You will be a raid-bride of great honor. You will live in the tent of a chief, and your children will be well fed and strong."
"No," Naya said, feeling calmer by the moment. "I will go to my ancestors. And one day some greater killer will put an end to you."
Something hissed and rattled from the grass. The nearby centaur leapt back in fright, two bolting while the others laughed and thrust spears at the brush.
"It's only a snake," one shouted. "You run like colts!"
Naya's hands were shaking on the knife and she knew she had to act quickly or lose her nerve. Her breathing was fast and shallow and she saw spots as she looked up towards the clouds.
It was a beautiful sky. Blue and perfect and of the real world beneath the sun and moon, and not in the endless haze of the fey where her people dwelled. It was a good place to die.
Then something growled from the west. And it was most certainly not a snake. The centaur were shouting in panic, and Naya forced her eyes down until she saw...she saw...she had no idea what she saw. It looked like an armadillo in the shape of a man. With fur. And claws.
The centaur loosed their arrows and started running, but the creature charged with impossible speed. It leapt at the side of the speaker, size and acceleration enough to knock the powerful raider off its balance, tumbling over with a shout then a spray of blood.
Naya jerked in shock as a drop hit her cheek above her scarf. The beast ripped and tore into the centaur like a wild animal, its claws like knives, its strength monstrous. The centaur's arrows did nothing. Then the beast rose all covered in blood, glowing green eyes turned on the others.
It chased them one by one, killing three before the others fled. Naya's legs were wobbly so she sat down as she stared.
"Psst," something whispered, and she turned numbly to see a dark skinned human holding out a flask, and...a goblin?...smiling a little ways away. "You must be thirsty, miss. It's just water. Drink and take deep breaths. You're safe now."
"Safe?" she said when she'd recovered, almost laughing hysterically as she watched the beast. "I think you're mistaken, stranger. I think we're all very much in danger."
"Not at all." The man grinned, pointing at the creature still murdering centaur as they fled. "That is my patron. I admit his appearance is currently...unfortunate, and a mystery to me as well. But, I assure you, it is him, and his presence is most welcome. He will no doubt be here to protect you."
Naya watched the creature rip out a centaur's throat with his teeth, finding herself unable to look away. But the sight became too much, and she soon gasped for air as her stomach churned.
"I think I'm going to be sick."
*
Centaur, as it turned out, actually tasted pretty good.
Mason was hungry, but he forced himself to spit out the bloody flesh because he wasn't quite ready to cross that particular barrier. If he was out here alone, however...or with Streak and the others...well...
Best to appear civilized for now. He was about to meet his second elf, after all. So he let the last centaur 'escape' to tell the others what had happened, then tried to brush a little blood and gore off himself. But the fur made things difficult.
"Oh forget it," he heard himself growl.
Elves were like nymphs, right? Fey creatures or what have you. Surely they'd know all about druids and rangers and shapeshifting and so forth. No doubt she wouldn’t blink an eye. He'd tell her about Dariya and how he'd come to save them all, and they'd all be good friends by sundown.
He didn't quite manage to convince himself, but he felt like telling Blake he'd at least tried.
"Are you alright?" he said as he got closer to the elf still huddled on the rock.
"Patron."
Mason blinked as Kiaan stepped out from the grass and revealed his sun-dark, weathered face.
"Dharma brings us together again." He smiled politely. "I have much to tell you of my adventures. I trust you are...well?"
Mason was so surprised his mind blanked for a moment. Kiaan looked visibly concerned in the pause, one foot turned away as if to run.
"I'm fine, Kiaan," he said, trying to smile without showing his fangs. "I'm just surprised to see you. Welcome. Do you..." he looked at the elf covered head to toe in cloth and shrugged. "Do you know each other?"
"No, and before the other stranger comes out and..."
"Hello, friend human."
A goblin materialized out of the grass behind Kiaan, his yellow teeth practically escaping his grotesquely wide smile.
Mason managed not to instantly kill him.
"We were trying to help this...person," Kiaan gestured to the elf. "But I'm very pleased you came along. I fear we would have been unsuccessful."
"Not so!" said the goblin. "Cliknik had many other tricks. Brown human gives up too easy."
Mason put a hand to his face, then remembered it was covered in centaur blood. He looked to the elf, who just sat staring at them all in silence.
"My name is Mason," he tried. "I know I look...unusual. But I'm the patron of a human settlement, a ranger, and a druid. I was brought by someone you know. Dariya. I'm here to help you."
The elf slumped, and spoke with a pleasant, youthful voice, though currently choked with emotion. "She said we would fail. That we would never survive without the protection of the elders. And she was right."
Mason felt somewhat lost. He was going to try and explain further but the elf suddenly leapt up and grabbed her bow, wobbling slightly on her feet.
"The others! You must help the others. They're running to the forest to the west. Please, ranger, you have to..."
"I've already saved them," Mason said, hoping that was still true. "But you're right, we should get back and gather everyone. Dariya thought you might come live with us. But… anyway, we'll figure all that out."
The elf sort of stumbled forward, and Mason thought she might be attacking him until he saw her eyes flutter. He ran forward and caught her, steadying her on wobbly feet.
"I'm sorry," she said, so small and frail in his arms. "You...saved us. Thank you. I can never repay...I...truly. Thank you."
Mason smiled, happy that he'd found and protected them. In a post-apocalyptic world of shit and blood, it felt like a good thing that didn't need reward or explanation or justification. It just felt good.
Then the elf pulled down her scarf to reveal a deeply tanned, beautiful face, with dark eyes like giant pools of black water. Even in this place of seemingly endless attractive women, he found himself slightly stunned.
And then, with a slightly panicked groan, and a failed attempt to pull out of his arms, the stunning elf threw up on him.
Comments
Yannick Scheer
The more I read about Transformation the more I think it should be called "Adaptive Reformation" or something along these lines.
