Chapter 10: The Artist
This story may depict graphic or violent scenes. Reader discretion is advised.
The sun sets behind the Twin Peak mountains, as Stride crosses a deserted landscape of roots and tree stumps spanning to the valleys ahead.
The cut down forest’ only decoration are the poles that stand with the heads of the Trinabath. Their entrails roped around like ornaments on a tree for festivities. “These are some twisted scarecrows.” Stride remarks.
“She was telling the truth. Their kind is being hunted as well.”
By nightfall he enters the valley. He immediately feels the mountain high walls surround him. The rigid, rectangular shaped rock structures around him feel like natural watchtowers, stacked to the brim with the Monarch‘s soldiers. Yet when he focuses on the heartbeats around him, he feels nothing. Only the small critters that signify no hostility towards him, only curiosity or fright.
The darkness plays tricks on the mind. Do not let it fool you. Stride thinks.
“I should find a safe place to sleep and continue my journey at first light.” He concentrates on the creatures around him, and notices small flying creatures go towards little open caves. He follows the creatures.
He finds a little cave of the beaten path, filled with the small critters resting on the roof of the cave. He rests, closing his eyes. But the cold of the night refuses to let him sleep.
His eyes wander the dark, feeling the looks of hundreds of eyes glooming back at him. Yet he feels no significant presence around him. Then again, he could not feel the workers’ heartbeat in the logging camp. How could something work and live without a beating heart? He has too little information on his enemy. How dangerous is the Monarch, what is the size and strength of his army, and how do they deal with intruders. His assignments as a thief were much more covert. He often played the part of a meek beggar, gathering knowledge about the actions and routines of his targets. Until the target did not even register them as a person, but as a part of the background. A heap of trash at the side of an alley. But now, he did not have the time to wait and scout his surroundings. He has to act fast.
His tired eyes close, hoping to just fade away into a deep slumber. Even he felt that his new body needed rest.
*Crack*
What was that? His eyes jolt open. He hears, sees and feels nothing around him. He presses his back against the cave wall. It felt like the ground had moved and broke apart as he scans the earth. His eyes land on a crack that has formed through the soil.
A hand rises from the formed crack…
“Wait… are they living- underground?” Stride says incredulously.
The hand crawls out of the crack and finds the hard earth beneath it. It plants its finger nails in the earth and pushes itself outward. An arm comes out of the ground, widening the crack further. Stride’s heart beats louder as he waits in anticipation to strike. But he has this eery feeling of dread that he cannot shake off.
He can see the shapes of a man-like creature exit the crack. Its claw-like hands press against the soil until its upper body is fully emerged. The creature, sculpted out of purely skin and muscle, wears the cowl of one of the Monarch’s workers.
“Could I not feel their presence, because they were- underground?” Stride says as he palms his fists. “Or because this ‘thing’ does not have a heartbeat.”
The creature stares at him with its wide eyes. Slowly it lifts its cowl as rows of sharp teeth reveal itself. With that same grin resting its face, his worst fear has followed him all the way out here.
The Three-Eyed-Demon.
It charges Stride with a nerve-racking ferocity. The demon’s body contorts as it runs on both hand and feet like a wild starving beast. Stride’s combat readiness changed to a fearful desire to flee, the moment the cowl got lifted. His heart no longer forced him to fight, nor could he feel the anger in his body to afflict vengeance. It was only him and the monster and his need to escape. However, he had nowhere to go with his back turned against the cavern wall.
Its putrid breath swarms over Stride’s face. He cannot breathe, he cannot move, or think. He can only look at the monster that he so bravely ran into death from, swearing off his fears. Now, as he faces it as a being of this world, he cannot even think of moving. Every fibre of his being tells him that this monster is untouchable, a devil incarnate. And then he sees the demon open its mouth with the intent to speak.
“You can understand me now.”
“HAAHHH!” Stride shrieks.
The monster is nowhere in sight.
A nightmare. He thinks as he wipes the sweat that drips from his forehead.
“It was all just a… terrible- nightmare.”
Dried up carcasses are plastered everywhere against the mountain walls.
Do those moth creatures live here as well? Stride thinks repulsed.
These ‘smaller’ mountains still stand tens of metres high. The shapes of the mountains he wanders past seem man made, like unmanned fortress walls. Every time he comes across an open space within the rocky terrain, he awaits an ambush by the Monarch’s soldiers. He must be too deep in their territory for them not to know or notice him.
“What could live in those mountains that could inflict fear upon The Huntress of the forest?” Stride says as he gazes at the Twin Peaks looming over him. “A being that could challenge the very existence of this world…”
“How confident am I that I could beat a being like that… considering how dangerous The Huntress was. I managed to best her only by her greed for my flesh and blood. If this Mountain Monarch lives up to its grand tales, do I have what it takes?”
He stops and takes a deep breath. He inspects his body and clenches his fists, “as long as I can hit something, I can kill it. It only took one direct hit to cleave The Huntress in half. That is all I need to do.”
Two pillars take shape in the distance with carcasses plastered on top of them.
As he gets a closer look, he sees two contorted sculptures stand atop the illustrated pillars. The bodies twist and droop, with its curling arms reaching out for help in every direction. A horrifying warped dance with the faces of agonising beings.
“These could not have been made by the moths. These were grafted by hand.” Stride says in disgust.
A cold chill runs down his spine. “What monster must have done this.”
*Tuu-duum*
A Heartbeat closeby!
He looks beside him to see a strange being stand in the distance. He can tell it is taller than him, almost the size of The Huntress.
The being has a large mane, and wears expressive worn-out clothing with puffy sleeves similar to a court jester. In its hands it carries a wrapped cocoon, a bit smaller than Stride. All of its joints and neck covered by dark threads.
Is that a person? Stride questions as he looks at the cocoon in its hands.
The long–necked creature raises its free hand and gestures Stride to come closer. Stride has seen this act before.
It acts like the grey men, using human gesture to lure in its victim. Does it think I am human?
“Who are you, and what do you want from me?” Stride shouts enraged.
Its demeanour changes as the long-necked creature drops its hand and stands there in silence. It speaks, “You are not supposed to know of our tongue, Frayling.”
“Stay where you are Frayling, I will come to you now.”
It elegantly walks toward Stride on its stilted legs. It starts running, dropping the cocoon it carries with him. It raises its hand as Stride palms his fist.
He feels the blood that he consumed from The Huntress flow through his veins. His powers feel even stronger than before. He notices something strange about the movement of the creature coming at him at full speed.
The long–necked creature reaches its hand back, and tries to swat at Stride. “Do not move, Frayling.” It says calmly.
In a single strike, Stride smashes through the rock solid body of the long-necked creature as its bodily debris flies everywhere.
Stride could tell, that because of The Huntress’ blood that he was faster and acutely aware of the creatures’ movements. And what he found strange is that it felt like it ran at him in in slow-motion. Its movements felt slow and uncoordinated.
Stride got closer to the creature’s remains. Strangely, the remaining threads on the creature’s torso covered itself up, leaving no open wounds. It did not bleed to Stride’s disappointment. He has gotten a lust for the power that blood can hold.
The creature was entirely made of threads, stone, and a beating heart.
A beating heart? It is still breathing!
“I know you are still alive.”
It lies idle for half a minute. “You caught me!” it shouts joyfully.
Taken aback by its odd response, Stride remains his composure and keeps a stern face, “You are going to answer some of my questions…” This ‘thing’ tried to kill him after all. The creature nods.
“Where are we right now?”
“The Domain of The Mountain Monarch.”
“And who are you to him?”
“My name is Mane, created by the true god, The God of Sculpture. I was given passage by the Mountain Monarch himself. Who are you, stranger?”
“I ask the questions, Mane.” Stride replies, not in the mood to make pleasantries. “What do you do in the Mountain Monarch’s domain?”
“To learn and study the way of the Incubys, a species of Mind Weavers local to these forests. I create interpretations of art based on their way of hunting. Sculptures, mostly.”
You mean those creatures that plaster every living being onto the trees? Those are your inspiration?” Stride asks appalled.
“Exactly!” It responds in an awfully cheerful manner. “Are you a local living in the forests? I am still searching for more of their nests, do you know of any locations?”
“You monster.” Stride replies as he feels the hatred surge through his body.
Not yet… I cannot kill this thing before I have my answers.
He takes a deep breath.
He looks at the heart of Mane, and notices that it no longer emits ill intent toward him. Its initial response to seeing Stride felt similar to seeing a pest that needed to be exterminated. Like a rat foraging through the kitchen. But now, its heart is calm with no shred of ill intent. Stride lowers himself, as he rests his hands on his knees.
“Why did you attack me?”
“Because I thought you were Frayling. But I was mistaken, and I apologise. You only smell like Frayling, yet your body is different. You are strong.” Mane says. “Then what does Frayling mean exactly?” Stride asks.
“A Frayling is a species we refer to as a vessel for use; more clearly defined as a frail thing. Some would also say it is because the Frayling is always in a state of struggle.”
“A vessel for use? What would you use a Frayling for?”
“You of all beings should know considering you reek of Frayling. The Frayling blood is pure, untainted by the gods of Eleahem. It has an otherworldly taste so I have heard. The Frayling is a valuable commodity that grants powers without the influence of the gods.”
“So those sculptures of yours… and that cocoon… are they made of Frayling?”
“If only I could afford such luxuries! I create art based on the kindness of the Monarch’s armies.” Mane continues, “The soldiers, they like my work and give me the scraps and remains of their hunts such as the Tree Ghauls, Dirtborne, and everything else with a pulse. With those I create my sculptures.” Mane says pridefully.
“Everything made beyond the forest is my work alone. To honour the true god, The God of Sculpture.”
“And you are allowed to honour your god, in the Domain of The Mountain Monarch?”
“As I said before, the soldiers like it.”
This creature. It is so matter of fact about the horrors of this world. What kind of ‘god’ could have made such a frightening being such as Mane?
“You are liked by Mountain Monarch and his soldiers. Tell me everything you know of them.”
Mane stares intently at the ground, gathering his thoughts.
Mane stares intently at the ground, gathering his thoughts.
“Auracan, The Mountain Monarch resides within the Twin Peak Mountains, it is his castle and home. He alone has defended the castle doors for more than a hundred years for all those who wished to pass without permission. The Nest, his first Stronghold that you will encounter stands at the foot of the mountain. He keeps his armies reserve here.”
“Make no mistake, it is an impenetrable fortress in size and strength. One cannot simply walk through The Nest and knock at the gates of the Twin Peaks. Because The Nest is where The Mountain Monarch makes his soldiers.”
“Makes his soldiers?” Stride asks confused.
“How he does it, I do not know.” Mane replies.
“Regardless, The Mountain Monarch is building an army to ascend this world, but to do so he requires resources. Everything that lives within his Domain is a sacrifice for his war efforts. That is why most of the Incubys nests are hard to come as there is little for them to prey on.”
“And that is all I can tell you. I am only a visitor of this Domain. The soldiers like me for my work, but they are not keen on outsiders.”
That explains the centipedes and the Mountain Monarch’s soldiers patrolling the forests, and the grey men who offer human sacrifices for their own safety.
Stride hesitates before asking “And the Frayling, are they being sacrificed as well?”
“No, they are far too valuable. They are being sold.”
Escaping as a slave from Byzma’s, The Marauders ship to step into this world of horrors and become a prisoner again. What a tragic life.
I do not really see a point in antagonizing this creature any longer. It seems odd but honest, unaware of its own cruelty. But the standards I value are not of this world. Who am I to judge. All I know is that within a day I will reach the Monarch and then I can find a way to save as many people as possible. Mane told me something even more important. ‘Frayling’ are valuable. Possibly meaning that their lives are worth keeping for longer.
That does beg the question. Why did the Three-Eyed Demon kill so many people if there was value in our flesh and blood?
“Thank you for your honesty, Mane. This is goodbye.”
“Wait! You cannot just leave me here.”
“I do not need you anymore. Be glad I spared your life.”
“I can take you to the Mountain without resistance, the Monarch’s armies know me and trust me on my word.” Mane pleads. “It will save you a lot of time, you have to believe me.”
This creature tried to kill me the moment it laid eyes on me. The audacity.
Stride stops arguing and walks off. Some never learn.
“Wait, you do not understand.” Mane says as he grabs hold of Stride’s leg. “The armies reserve that resides in The Nests Stronghold are more than a thousand strong, fighting them head on is suicide. You need my help to guide you past the mountain or you will not even make it to the gates of The Mountain Monarch’s castle in one piece.”
I do not trust this creature for a second. But, he does have a point. I have yet to fight any of the Monarch’s army. I do not know how strong they are individually, let alone with more than a thousand. And Mane is no threat to me in his current state if he tries anything. If he can offer me the promise of safe passage to the gates of the Monarch, then I should consider it.
I will probably regret this…
“You cannot just leave me here to die, stranger.”
“Alright. Alright.”
“But, if we are travelling together, I need to you to know that something has been bothering me the moment I laid eyes on you. That mask you are wearing reminds me of a very awful species of creatures that I have met before. And I am going to have to take it from you.”
“No wait, you cannot do that to me. I beg of you!” Mane says in agony. Stride ignores its pleas.
He tears the mask right off its face. “Wait… what are you?”
I do not know if this is any better to be honest. How does it even talk?
“You have ruined me… I am hideous! I can never face my god like this.” Mane agonises. Beneath the mask there is no face nor mouth to speak of. Only some pulsing veins that move throughout the stone surface of its skin.
“Stop your whining,” Stride responds.
He picks Mane up and carries him over to the cocoon that Mane had dropped prior.
Just to be sure.
He unravels the wrapped cocoon to see a grey man in a preserved state of pure dread. Its lips quiver as they try to convey words of suffering to Stride. “Kill me” is what it is trying to say. Even if he hates these creatures for what they did to him, he does not wish to inflict this kind of torture upon them.
“…”
He gives the creature a swift death.
“You could have at least spared the face for me. What a waste of good product.” Mane says agitated.
Stride does not respond. He needs a moment to fathom what he just witnessed.
“Mane, you are at my mercy until we have reached the ‘Frayling’, remember that well.” Stride says. “Most definitely…” Mane responds. “Good. My name is Stride.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Stride.”
“Although I do not look my best.”
End of chapter 10.