Born a Monster

Chapter 440

440 440 – Blasphemer

Minotaurs do not believe in hiding their emotions. With great care and many tears the skins of their fallen were pulled down, separated, and burned. With great lament, they were buried entwined among the roots of trees.

“Where are the warriors?” the young woman who had taken care to put Cassandra into the ground near a patch of flowers asked.

“I’m sorry, what?” I asked, momentarily distracted from my System message.

“I saw you talking with them earlier. The warriors. We have only the wounded ones here, taking guard shifts.”

I looked at the message again before dismissing it. [New title earned: Blasphemer.]

“They could not be persuaded.” I said. “They said they were only going to look for the bodies of the fallen, but I’m not certain how focused they’ll remain if they spot recent deer tracks.”

“Good.” she said. “Those damn deer deserve every ounce of pain we can cause them.”

“At what cost?” I asked.

“At any cost!” she said. “The last time I counted, two of them were dying for every one of us. Those... those...”

.....

“Desecrators of the dead?” I asked.

“Yes, that and worse.” she said.

“And how do you think they would describe what you did with their fallen?” I asked, nibbling on a freshly fallen branch.

“People eat animals.” she said. “This is the way of things.”

I blinked. “What about the animals that are Aware?”

“If they choose to live near the Maze, they know what risks they take. They can’t be THAT smart.”

I blinked at her; I had no words... or rather, the words were there, but my remaining Sanity was temporarily unable to organize them.

“Oh, don’t cry over them, they’re putting up a good fight. If you want someone who feels like you, the talk to... where is Cave Cricket?”

The one called Cave Cricket was more properly Julius Magnus Pugnacious, runt of his litter and outcast since the age of two. We found his remains in the shallow pit used as a restroom by the encampment.

“Why weren’t you watching this area?” one of the guards asked another.

“I? This was within YOUR sector!”

“Liar!”

“Lazy oaf!”

While the two of them settled the matter with fisticuffs and headbutts, I lowered myself into the pit. “Who is taking custody of his remains?”

“Honorius Plebius adopted him.” said a youth. “Didn’t he?”

“He did not.” replied another. “He played games with you, did he not?”

“He did! But that doesn’t mean... oh. I guess it does, then.”

A youth, light brown in color with spots of black, appeared at the lip of the pit. “I’m going to spread out a blanket, here.” he said, doing so.

I lifted the parts, placing them at the edge of the pit one by one. Two hands, a head smashed in by a hoof, two hooves, five irregular sections of leg, six of arm, and four pieces of torso. I began piling up innards when someone noticed.

“Where is his heart?” she asked.

“They probably conducted a ritual over it. The heart is buried, returning it to nature. It’s done to put the soul at rest, so it doesn’t rise as an undead.”

She showed sudden interest. “How does one ensure that one of the fallen DOES rise as an undead? Perhaps a vampire deer, to suck the blood of its fellows?”

What a nightmare! I wasn’t about to help her work on the necromancy needed to pull that off.

“Even the most heroic of necromancers would find that a daunting task.” I said.

“But it can be done?”

“Only at great risk to one’s eternal soul.” I said.

“My System refuses to measure it.” she said. “I don’t believe in souls. What else?”

I handed up another length of intestine. “You would need much of the force of Death, more than any three bodies could contain safely. You’d need mystic batteries to hold the energy for you.”

“There’s enough graves around here. What else?”

I almost rubbed my eyes, momentarily forgetting what my hands were covered with.

“To make a vampire, you need to find a deer that craved blood and pain during its life.”

“That’s all of them. What else?”

I sighed. Don’t breathe in through your nose in that environment; it may not forgive you for two or three days, long after the rest of you is clean.

“I don’t know the exact formula; rumor places the ritual between fifth and seventh circle.”

“I’ve done third circle rituals before.” But her voice betrayed her uncertainty.

“I don’t know the ritual.” I said. “The sorts of people who could teach you...”

“Call them what they are. Necromancers.”

“Many of them are... careless. They have become corrupted by the Taint of Death. They are... other than normal.”

She licked her lips. “Where do I find them?”

“How in the seven hells would I know?” I asked.

“You know.” she insisted. “Or else you know people who know.”

I could think of two off the top of my head. I wanted her in contact with neither of those people. But if I had to choose...

“Harkulet. His name is Harkulet, and he is the Voice of Rakkal, or was once.”

“Tell me of him.”

“He is a hobgoblin, a politician, a schemer, and many other things besides.”

“But what does he like?”

“I don’t know, personally. I’ve tried to stay away from him and his plans. One day he will just anger Rakkal, and that will be the end of him.”

“You never tell us about Rakkal; only that he is the Axe hero.”

“He is bold, brash and reckless at times. His desire to do things, to accomplish, is unparalleled. He is... he is the only type of person who could have welded Achaea back into a single nation, after all that has happened to it.”

“The Tidelands don’t sound anything like the Achaea in our legends.”

I sniffed. “No nation on this world seems to be the equal of its own legends.”

The scout seemed to come from nowhere. Silently, although he was still dripping from the waist down. “You.” he said. “Bone of Contention. Among your other classes, you are a Naturalist?”

I nodded. “I am a first level Naturalist.”

“Your unique sciences are needed.” he said. “The deer have ... done things to the bodies.”

“What could deer have possibly done that requires a Naturalist?” I asked.

“It is best that you come and see for yourself.” he said. “It has Basilicus and Maximus arguing. One of them will die if this matter is not settled with authority.”

I was skeptical, but any time I spent putting skills to use was good time. Or so I told myself until I saw what had actually happened.

“This looks more like a panther or other hunting cat than anything deer would do.” I said.

“At last, someone else who sees the sense of this.” Maximus said.

“Let him look at the bite marks for himself!” Basilicus said, gesturing at the remains of the body.

Crap.

“Blunt forward teeth.” I said. “Consistent with herbivores.” I made some quick measurements using my talons. “Bite marks consistent, size of teeth, bite pattern.”

I took a look at the grooves. “No signs of hesitation, no sudden jerking movements. And... one sharp tooth, upper jaw, like a canine. But only on the one creature.”

“There is more than one?” Maximus asked.

“A larger, with the tooth, and a smaller one, likely a deer child.” I said.

I flicked my tongue to taste the air, and wished I hadn’t. “Cedar. Yew. Aconite. All of them used in the invocation of Death magics.”

“What? What would they be trying to accomplish?” Basilicus asked.

“Something that drains power from the dead, uses it to nourish life.”

“Like to gain extra Might from the fallen?” Maximus asked. “To use our own natural power against us?”

“No.” I said. “Aconite is poisonous; too dangerous to use for such a ritual.”

“This root?” Basilicus asked, picking it up. “It looks... chewed upon.”

Oh, no.

.....

“They were trying to bring themselves closer to the force of Death.”

“To reduce their own life force?” Maximus asked. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No.” I said. “Much the opposite. The ones who did this are trying to become strong. To become eaters of the flesh. Predators rather than prey.”

“What, some manner of deer cannibals?” Basilicus asked.

“Ghouls.” I said. “They’re trying to become ghouls.”

With three ritualists... they might have enough mana to make that wish a reality. And then, once one of them turned, they could bite the other two...

“In a worst case scenario, this one with the sharp tooth will fully turn in three days. Its blunt teeth will fall out, be replaced by ones more fitting an eater of the dead.”

Maximus stomped the ground. “I hate being right. This was done by monsters, not by animals or people.”

For those who care about the truth of this matter, the pit had been overlapped by both sectors, in the belief that it would be better guarded that way, and protect those made vulnerable by its use.