Private Tales Vultures

[Gaheris]

Like clockwork she kept up her assault. Gaheris rode with his eyes shut for a few moments, positively steeling himself. A low rumble started in his throat. Was it going to be a snarl? Maybe a groan? It never fully came to pass, and Gaheris expressed himself with a sad, pained sigh.

He fixed his eyes on the road ahead, doing his best to remain dignified. "I could not possibly comment," he muttered, quite disdainfully.

He might have agreed more readily some several days beforehand, or bragged scathingly to the armsmen in his employ - if they were wont to discuss such things. But for some reason he was not in the gloating mood. The events of yesterday had caused him considerable consternation.

Being the ardent subject of Fieravene's taunting did not do much to help either. Especially when coupled with the furtive snickering of those same armsmen.

 

[Fieravene]

"No?" a brow pinned upward. Fiera shifted in her saddle as they cleared the town limits and followed the road down into a rocky knoll winding off towards an otherwise barren countryside. In the distance the dip of the mountains marked their destination pass.

"Why not?" Couldn't be spoken for - he wasn't wearing a ring or any other sort of silly insignia that he was otherwise unavailable, sourpuss expression notwithstanding. The woman's brows furrowed in thought, head tilting towards him in her hood to look him up and down, lingering on the down briefly before she leaned over and whispered at him, "Are you a eunuch? I've heard that's a ... thing ... around this area."

Humans had all sorts of strange, nonsensical customs. Wouldn't be the first league of men she'd run into with naught but air between their legs.

 

[Gaheris]

"No," Gaheris snapped, "I am not a eunuch!"

His voice was the hoarse whisper typically generated by someone both outraged and dedicated to keeping their voice down. If those armsmen heard Gaheris be referred to in such terms, he would never hear the end of it. Knowing this so well, it might have been unsurprising that his face turned an indignant hue of red.

Was it so much to ask to ride in stoic silence? Gaheris had traveled large stretches of Cortos and the Cortosi Coast in the company of some of the most ruthless cutthroats available. And even they had not taken half as much joy in the emotional torment of others as Fieravene evidently did.

When you dealt with criminal elements, you had to set boundaries. Boundaries had obviously failed to be established when she previously had him half-naked and half-mad in her lodgings. Gaheris reasoned he would have to rectify this.

"You stop this behavior of yours now, or we'll have problems later," he warned.

 

[Fieravene]

"Good," if the elf took note of his apparent growing anger she didn't seem particularly fussed by it. Casual. She was casual.

Red eyes casually swept back his way as she leaned towards him just slightly to whisper back, "You can never trust a eunuch."

Righting herself with an expression that said she spoke from experience, lips pursed and brows raised. The next words to come out of his mouth made those lips part in a pleasantly surprised O.

"Ooohhh hm hm hm-" she snickered, mouth stretching into a sanguine sneer, voice dropping to a velvet tone, "is that a promise? Having problems with you later sounds delightful..." mirth arched in a brow, she eyed the man while biting at her lower lip.

 

[Gaheris]

Yes, of course she didn't trust eunuchs. Gaheris imagined the reason being that she could not get a rise out of them (in both the literal and figurative sense) so easily. He envied that kind of clarity of mind. It would have served him well yesterday evening, certainly.

Too bad the method of obtaining it was too... Gruesome.

Gaheris was prepared to issue some blasé comment before her tone shifted. He'd heard this tone before, and suddenly he felt a wooden chair against his skin again. His mouth twisted uncomfortably, signaling perplexion and disgust all at once.

"What on earth do you mean?" he huffed, quickly looking away, "No, not this again. I am not given to repeating mistakes."

Not so soon, anyway. He did not like that look of hers; the way Fieravene bit her lip. He did not like that he liked it.

 

[Fieravene]

What on earth do you mean?

Fieravene bobbed her eyebrows at the man. Scandalously.

"Mistakes..." she drawled, a muffled giggle sounding from within her hood, "ah, here we are. The road to the mountain pass."

They found themselves at a Y, the left leading along the same well-worn and mostly maintained road that would take them further east. The right leading south and to the mountains looming in the distance. The road was rocky and jagged, clearly not often used. The pass was not a route that lead anywhere quickly or easily and better roads had been established in the ages since it was first laid down. Not like those barren mountains had anything of worth to the common folk. Nothing but shelter for brigands and thieves and a hidden dwarven empire, apparently.

Gamlek yanked the packmule on to follow, glaring at Gaheris as he passed by.

Gaheris, for all his misery, was gifted with a heavy silence as they traversed the washed-out road. Fiera and Gamlek kept at the front, talking quietly amongst themselves, the elf given to laugh after a turn. Like before with their silver-haired human companion, she leaned over to whisper something to the orc, another laugh, Gamlek glanced back at the man and spat.

 

[Gaheris]

There was no mistaking the disgust with which Gaheris narrowed his eyes at Fieravene. "Stop doing that."

He was clearly referring to the impure motions of her eyebrows, but she rode on ahead of him without further comment. Of that he had no complaint. Gamlek passed ahead of him next and Gaheris was quite shocked to find the Orc was glaring at him in doing so.

The necromancer only lofted a brow of his own in return and watched him go. Where was this coming from? Great. You let one Elven wench torment you and suddenly you lose all your threatening credibility. Damn him. Damn Fieravene.

Gamlek spat at him, but Gaheris only stared him down, his jaw tightening. These people were going to regret this conduct. He'd make sure of it. He'd have to.

 

[Fieravene]

A little less than an hour passed them by, finding the group well up into the mountain range. There was no road left behind for carts and certainly not room enough for more than a single person or pack animal to navigate. Evidence of the long abandonement could be seen in uncleared rock and landslides, remnants of flooding, and general erosion. No one had cared enough to give this road an iota of attention in likely a hundred years or more.

Yet Fi's heading never wavered, she steered her horse onward with bold confidence, dismounting as she reached a precipice of bare and jagged stones. Boulders surrounded them on either side, rising up into sheer walls of rock.

"Wotcher," said the elf, tipping her pointer finger to her nose and pointing back at Gaheris and his men, "nearly there. Mind your step."

She left her horse and signaled to Gamlek to bring the packmule. The three walked ahead, following a winding path through boulders that steadily grew in size until, quite suddenly, Gaheris turned a corner to find they had vanished.

 

[Gaheris]

At a certain point, the man with the falchion caught up to Gaheris, and whispered furtively to his commander.

"Is this a scam?"

Gaheris had, up until then, been staring at the back of Gamlek's head - pondering the exact repercussions if he happened to bring his horse to a gallop and give the Orc a kick to the back of his skull. This question, one of great importance, brought Gaheris back from the depths of his reverie. He whispered back, a simpering hiss.

"A what?"

"Scam. Are they fleecing us?"

"Not that I can tell," Gaheris retorted. Could he truly trust himself to tell anything these days - these damned, miserable days? "What would that matter? There are more of us. We'll simply take what we're owed and move on."

There was a wet, slippery sound from underneath the man's cowl. Gaheris quickly understood this to be the sound of the armsman wetting his lips. "Could be an ambush. More of 'em waiting."

Gaheris scoffed. "No one brings a pack mule to an ambush."

This was the end of their delightful discussion.

-----​

The rest of the journey was in silence. Gaheris was the first to dismount, fixing his men with a withering glare until they followed suite. Give a man a horse and suddenly he can't stand to be without it. They tied their mounts up nicely, and Gaheris took control of the lantern, leading his men after Fieravene with the untiring countenance of an angry, bitter man.

Up until they rounded a corner, and found her to be gone. Gamlek, pack-mule, Fieravene. Gone. Gaheris squinted in the dark, raising the lantern higher in the vain hope of more illumination. The armsman directly behind Gaheris bumped into him.

"Whassat?"

"They're gone."

"Gone?" Said a familiar voice, followed by a familiar smacking of lips. A falchion slid out of its scabbard. "Called it. Ambush."

"Shut up," Gaheris snapped, whipping his head around. "Put that bloody thing away. Let me look."

Contrary to his commands, the armsmen were now fumbling with their own weapons, and whispering their concerns.

 

[Fieravene]

"Hold the bone..." Fiera paused midstride, looking around in a moment of mild confusion, "this isn't right."

She turned to tell Gamlek and the others to stay close only to find just the orc and his packmule at her back. Red eyes narrowed, dark brows flattening in suspicion as she looked around, a slow smirk forming on her lips.

"Cleverrr..."

Gamlek made a questioning grunt.

"She knows we're here. Come, give me the rope," a gloved hand gestured impatiently as the orc rifled through the packbacks to produce a wound length of rope. She took it, unspooling an amount and handing Gamlek the end, "Tie this to the pack horn and wait here."

Retracing her steps slowly and carefully, the elf began to whistle her sordid little tune once again.

Gaheris would hear it as if from a distance, echoing oddly between the stacatto of shifting stones and footsteps. Then, as if out of thin air, the elf appeared from behind a boulder, uncoiling more length of rope.

"There you are. You'll want to stick closer, the dragon knows we're here. Take the rope, don't wander off - this mountain pass will swallow you up faster than a duneslug picking camels off a caravan."

 

[Gaheris]

The armsmen shifted and bunched up at the sound of her whistling. Gaheris could not remember for the life of him if they heard this tune before, but he had. And he was now far too annoyed to be meaningfully frightened. The necromancer squinted against the dark, moving the lantern from left to right, looking for -

He squealed like a particularly small girl when Fieravene popped out in front of him, as if from nowhere. A great clattering of steel and rustling of leather followed, as the armsmen yelped and nearly leapt from their skins. This was the highest form of treachery. That whistling sounded like it was still far off! Sorcery was afoot! And not the enjoyable sort.

Gaheris nearly dropped his lantern, but still managed to bark expletives at Fi. When he recovered his senses, he took the offered rope and passed it back to the assembled armsmen. They accepted it like prisoners being sentenced to die.

"This is a load of shit."

"Quiet!" Gaheris snapped at him, the only retort he could truly muster. Internally, he agreed wholeheartedly.

Once they were underway again, Gaheris leaned forward and whispered quite hoarsely to Fi.

"What do you mean it knows we're here?"

 

[Fieravene]

Fiera blinked rapidly at this odd question, "What do I mean? What else could I possibly mean? The heathen of scales, fire, and fury is aware of our attempt to infiltrate its territory and has begun efforts of countermeasures to foil and-or thoroughly thwart the mission."

"In layman's terms," brows lifted expectantly as she continued to follow the rope, "If you do not do exactly as I say when I say it, you're dead. Am I clear?"

 

[Gaheris]

Some years ago, when visiting Mantessa, Gaheris had been stationed at a warehouse in the harbor. While standing watch, he had seen an older sailor drop a crate on his foot. The things that mariner had screamed at the sky remained seared on Gaheris' memory to this day. The string of expletives had invoked gods, family (particularly mothers), appendages, orifices, and the occasional inanimate object. The verbs were too foul to touch upon.

It was this string of profanity that currently ricocheted around in Gaheris' skull. A dragon was on their case. A fucking dragon.

"Load of shit, load of shit," someone repeated softly.

Gaheris swallowed audibly. "Very."

It was at this point that Gaheris and his helpless followers became very quiet. Quieter than usual, now that hearing Fiera speak was apparently a matter of life and death.

Fucking dragons.

 

[Fieravene]

"Good."

And that was the end of that. Gaheris now found himself walking in blissful silence, just what he had wanted earlier. Only now it was a silence tempered by the fear of painful, agonizing death by dragon.

The rope did its job well and lead them straight back to Gamlek and the mule.

"Right then, stay on the rope. The path is ...well," Fiera considered the appropriate words and decided - after a glance to the guards - to stick with simple, "hard. Look alive, gentlemen."

They continued on through the winding stone path, weaving between monumental rises of sheer rock. The least little sound beyond footsteps sent stones toppling down from above. Rockslides, evident by the slippery mounds left behind, were not wholly uncommon here.

The trail eventually wound itself into a narrow aisle crevice within the mountain, dark and forboding in the most real of ways. A tepid wind whistled through, bringing a peculiar smokey aroma. One by one they funneled through, the mule giving a wilting whine as Gamlek dragged it along.

Finally a sliver of moonlight met them as the crevice dumped them out onto a shelf of rock high above a gaping ravine between two peaks. Approximately 100 yards across, another shelf of rock with a matching crevice. In between? A whole lot of nothing. No bridge, no ropes, just air and a long, dark, terrifying drop.

Fiera began searching through her pockets.

 

[Gaheris]

The guards exchanged curious looks. Curious and scared. Simple was nice, but it did little to assuage their worries. Not that such a thing would (or could) ever be Fieravene's intention.

Look alive. She made it sound so easy. Stay alive, now that was harder. Much harder, considering there was a dragon involved now. So far the only thing they needed to do to stay alive was follow the rope and stick close behind Fieravene, but Gaheris had the sinking feeling that this would change for the worse.

As usual, his sinking feeling proved correct. The gods forbid it should ever prove incorrect.

Gaheris stopped at the mouth of the crevice, hardly daring to step out onto the cliff or let his bumbling troupe any further. If they all fell to their deaths, he would feel bad. Not for particularly long, but Gaheris did favor minimizing "bad feelings" as often as he could. Present circumstances notwithstanding.

"Let me guess. You have a bridge in your pocket?" he muttered, frowning in the dark.

Behind him, the goons were muttering in anticipation. A ravine, a ravine. We've got to cross a ravine. I didn't bring a grappling look. Did you bring a grappling look? Climbing gear? And so on.

 

[Fieravene]

"Do you know that I do?" Fiera responded breathily.

A few more moments of searching about and the elf made a noise of success, "Here you are..." and from within a pocket she withdrew a long length of material and handed it to Gamlek, "for your friend."

Gamlek grunted and turned as if he had done this a dozen times before, wrapping the material around the head of the mule to cover its eyes.

"Now, for you gentlemen, the task is simple: take hold of the rope tightly and follow directly behind me. Do not, under any circumstances, deviate from the path. Gamlek," Fiera bent over to collect a small satchel full of dirt and stones, then took up a palm full more and tossed it out into the open air. It fell across a curiously invisible and dauntingly narrow path for about ten feet, "you know the drill." She handed the orc the satchel of dirt.

Another grunt, the orc heaved a sigh and gave the ravine one hairy look before toeing a bit off the edge where the dust and dirt had settled in the open air. The tip of his boot found the path, he took another breath and stepped forward, eyes tying shut as he waited for the ravine to swallow him up. He stopped, abruptly, as his foot landed on the hidden platform. With a snort and a shake of his head he jostled the blindfolded mule along behind him.

Fiera waited until they were out the marked ten feet, watching as Gamlek tossed more dirt to find the path again, and noted silently to herself that it had changed since last they'd ventured here. The dirt fell on a sloping curve to the left. Rope in hand, without hesitation she stepped out onto the path and carefully walked her way out with a short glance back to Gaheris and his men.

"Come along, it's perfectly safe."

 

[Gaheris]

Gaheris watched this incredible spectacle, the throwing of dirt and stones, the outlining of an invisible path. Towards the end of it, he finally had an answer for Fieravene's question. "I have not the foggiest idea."

The armsmen watched with bated breath as the Orc laid out his trail. There was no denying the gasps and alarmed whispers as Fieravene waltzed out onto the invisible platform. As if this was just another thing people usually did on a hike through the wilderness.

The man with the falchion inched out of the crevice after Gaheris made way. "Why'd she say to close our eyes?"

"So you don't piss yourself," someone returned.

No one laughed.

Alright. Time for Gaheris to lead by example. He wiped his palms off on his shirt, one at a time, as if that were going to keep the sweat away for any amount of time.

Perfectly safe. Perfectly safe. Everything is fine.

Slowly, surely, he walked the invisible platform. Even with the dirt marking the way, one would think he was walking a tightrope, the way he looked. Gaheris' lips were pressed into a thin, pale line. His eyes focused squarely on the ground, marking each step with careful deliberation.

One after the other, the armsmen followed after Gaheris in a slow, nerve-wracking fashion.

 

[Fieravene]

They were approximately halfway across the ravine when Gamlek stopped.

"What is it?" Fiera called up to him, a wind having taken up whipping about them the further out they wandered.

"The path," Gamlek roared back, "it leads down."

Fiera furrowed her brow, looking back to ensure Gaheris and his men were still looking lifely despite the windy gusts, "Then follow it!" The path, it seemed, had changed quite a bit. Down would take them into the lower levels - an area she'd not yet had a chance to explore or map out. Be that as it may, they were too far along to turn back now.

Gamlek tossed more dirt onto an invisible set of stairs that lead down into the murky depths of the ravine. He stepped and then tugged at the mule who suddenly decided it had had enough of blindfolded following for the evening.

"What's the problem?" Fiera called again.

"He won't move!"

"Oh get on with it you stubborn ninny-" the elf slapped the mule on the rear and the beast let loose a startled, loud, long bleat that echoed through the ravine before stumbling after Gamlek.

Then, in the distance, the winds carried with it a thunderous roar in response.

"Oh-" Fi lifted her brows, "that's our cue. Quickly, quickly."

 

[Gaheris]

Gaheris looked up from his feet to see some renewed urgency in Fi and Gamlek. Gusts of wind tossed his hair about. It would have looked quite dashing and elegant, if it weren't for the fact a thunderous roar came cutting through the air after it.

The necromancer searched his considerable vocabulary for a fitting exclamation, only to churn up,

"Shitfuck," he breathed.

He shuffled along faster, feeling the rope grow taut as his armsmen continued to lag behind. The poor fellow with the falchion - his nerves got the better of him, and now he was edging along slower than ever, on all fours.

"Pierto, get the fuck up and walk!" hissed the armsman stuck behind him..

"I'm try- I'm tryin', I- I-"

Gaheris had reached the beginning of the stairs, but was lagging behind now on account of the goons accompanying him. "Get him up and over," he shouted over the wind, "Now!"

The more gallant armsman that had been directly behind Gaheris took a few unwelcome steps back, took Pierto by the collar, and began to haul him quite callously forward. Forward. Away from the roaring. Gaheris had never heard a dragon before, and found himself hoping he would never hear it again.

He supposed that could be inevitable, one way or another.

 

[Fieravene]

Down down the invisible stairs went, leading closer to the rise of stone at the far side of the ravine. There at the bottom an open archway, black as the pit of a dragon's gullet. Fiera was now traipsing down the steps after Gamlek and the mule two at a time.

Another roar erupted from on high, the dark skies rumbling with the thunder of a furious God, but no shadow could be seen. Fiera reached the archway and paused just inside, turning to look back at the three behind her before searching the sky for the owner of that roar.

Then she saw it.

A shift in the sky, a gleam of the intangible. It was coming straight for them.

Crimson eyes wide, she wrapped the rope firmly around her right arm for a solid grip and leaned out with her left hand towards Gaheris who had lagged behind with his goons, "Jump! NOW!"

A sudden rush of wind, another roar, a gaping maw the size of a Cortosi war ship opened in the sky lined with fangs as long as a man was tall. It overtook the last man in line with a breath of steaming magma, sending the invisible stairs crumbling into nothing beneath their feet.

 

[Gaheris]

Gaheris hesitated to see the first two men across, realizing nearly too late that the poor bastard stuck behind him was a lost cause. He tried to backpedal and nearly joined him for the magma bath. He could feel the searing heat, hotter than any fire he had been in... Or started. The smell of burning flesh.

Thankfully no one could hear him whimper over the roar.

But too much time had passed, the invisible path was crumbling. Even if he couldn't see it, he could tell it was coming on quickly. The other two armsmen were already cramming themselves into the crevice, past Fieravene, practically crawling over Gamlek and the mule to get away.

But Gaheris was too far off. He had to jump for it, just barely managing to grab hold of Fi's outstretched hand. His feet scraped the black stone walls of the trench, producing an awful scrambling sound. His hair was askew, plastered over the front of his face, masking his horror inefficiently.

"Don't you fucking drop me!" He was yelling hoarsely, over and over again.

As with all things involving Fiearavene, another dignified display.

 

[Fieravene]

Fiera's initial shock of the dragon's approach had shifted to something of blatant fascination and wonder. She watched as the beast literally dissipated from view, flying off on silent wings, and craned her head to look further upwards into the dark, star-spattered abyss above. Whatever shadow had been there following the beast was gone. The elf let out a drawn and breathless laugh.

Gaheris dangled below, sputtering something about not being dropped.

"Ohh Turtledove," Fi rounded a bright and toothy grin down at him, exhilaration bubbling up in another loud giggle, "I wouldn't dream of it."

She was, herself, practically hanging from the rope attached to the mule, leveraged just over the edge of the landing with one foot planted solidly on flat stone, the other wedged against the cliffside.

"Gamlek, if you please" she called upwards.

From within the tunnel entrance the sound of the mule bleating in the terrified could be heard, the rope shuddered and slowly pulled them up. Fiera mustered one last hefty heave to bring Gaheris up over the edge, yanking him into her as she stumbled back against the tunnel wall.

"Well," she breathed, "wasn't that exciting."

 

[Gaheris]

Fieravene was saying something. Gaheris was sure of it. Her mouth was open and her lips were moving, but he couldn't hear a word. Not from her anyway. Just his singular mantra of "Don't fucking drop me." He had started to fall into a rhythm by the time she finally hauled him over.

It was not a graceful re-entrance. They tumbled into the tunnel wall, Gaheris falling squarely on top of her. He blinked rapidly as he re-oriented himself, and peeled himself off of her, almost just as quickly as he arrived. Gaheris was far too alarmed over other subjects to derive any embarrassment or disdain from the situation.

Gaheris leaned himself up against another face of the wall, and gradually slid down into a sitting position, breathing like a wounded animal. Eventually he remembered to wipe the hair out of his face. There were many questions he had, but he started with a simple exclamation.

"Fuck."

 

[Fieravene]

Fiera was complacent to remain as she was once he peeled away, fresh tears stinging in her eyes. Were they from the winds in the ravine or the fact that she was having a good, private laugh. Maybe both. She wiped them away with the delicacy of someone pushing dew off a flower petal and turned her now glowing crimson gaze down to the man crumpled on the floor. A short check back to find Gamlek and the other two guards in a similar state.

It smelled like someone had pissed their trousers.

"Oh," Fiera managed a breathy bark of laughter, "come now boys, where's your sense of adventure?" A continued giggle followed.

Gaheris managed to mutter something about had she even ever been here before?

"Right here?" the elf pointed to the ground beneath her feet, "Never. The path changed. I suspect we are a level or two below where we need to be."

 

[Gaheris]

"You absolute lunatic," Gaheris said, in between deep, heaving breaths. "Were you aware that the path changes? How much of this is the dragon's doing?"

Someone was pissing alright, and now they'd have to deal with the stench the whole time. Great. If only that other armsman hadn't been incinerated. Then they could have just swapped out the trousers and been done with it.

Gaheris' arm stretched out against the wall, feeling around. He found some purchase, and eventually used it to hoist himself, uneasily, to his feet.

"And how do we get up to the level where we need to be? Are we even close to getting within the ruins yet?"

He would have preferred to call it quits here and head home, but the path back was gone. Forward was the only option now, as dreadful as it was.