[Mkguild] Healing Wounds in Arabarb (29 of ?)

[C. Matthias]

Healing Wounds in Arabarb
By Charles Matthias


Gmork remained in a half-doze while he sat on his haunches in his 
listening room. The numerous baubles glowed serenely on the wall 
before him, their little voices tickling his ears with every thought 
his pets had. At his side rested two of his pups, their sleep 
interrupted by the occasional twitching leg or slight whine as the 
roved through beastly dreams. Gmork didn't dream; he planned.

But he was still subject to exhaustion like his pups and his pets. 
Minutes swam from him before he even noticed them near. Few of his 
pets had anything of interest to think, and most of them were asleep 
and beyond his hearing anyway. His thoughts, when they were coherent, 
were mostly focused on the bird Lubec. The gull had fled south and so 
Lubec was following him, but he had no idea where the puffin had gone.

That meant that they knew where the rest of the Resistance was 
hiding. Gmork should not have wasted his time trying to trick the 
half-dragon into revealing his secrets. He should have taken the 
minds of those two birds immediately and learned from them what he 
wanted to know. He might have learned about the dragon before he'd 
been brought to his door. He might have saved his fourth son.

It may have won over his youngest, but the price was too steep. And 
so it was that the remainder of his lucid moments were spent hating 
Nasoj. If not for that treacherous wizard, he would have over a dozen 
pups now and could spend his time creating more entrapment baubles 
for his pets. Until then he would always have to hide and that was 
one thing he truly hated to do.

But most of the time he sat there with no thoughts in his mind at 
all. And so it was when his ears perked at the sound of many booted 
feet approaching. He yawned, long tongue stretching past his teeth, 
and rose to a mostly human stance. When the knock came at his door, 
he said, "Open and speak."

Beyond stood a few of Calephas's soldiers. The leader of them yanked 
a young man bound and gagged into the doorway. "These are the 
tanner's apprentices. We were told by your sons to bring them."

Gmork noted the dark-haired man with disinterest, and the 
blond-haired young man that followed him with equal complacency. He'd 
waste no time in making them his pets to learn what they knew. "Did 
they learn anything there?"

The guard smirked as he hauled a third, but younger boy into view. 
"They didn't want to talk."

"They will," Gmork assured him. His eyes alighted on the boy whose 
face was besmirched by a trio of hairy warts. His heart skipped a 
beat and he grinned widely, revealing an array of teeth that made all 
three of the apprentices pale. "Oh my, thank you. You and your men 
may wait down the hall."

When the door had closed, Gmork clapped his hands together twice. His 
two pups stirred and after blinking a few times, walked to his side 
and nodded. The elder of the two asked, "Are these to break our fast?"

"Nay, your brothers sent them," Gmork replied. "Keep them from 
moving, and remove the gag from the black-haired one." So saying, he 
turned and took one of the six unlit baubles from its place on the 
cushioned shelves and rolled it about in his hand which swelled with 
thick, dark calluses and sharp claws that curved to meet the brass 
bauble. His pups obeyed, pushing the young men into one corner and 
moving the boy atop their disheveled blankets where his third pup 
forced him to sit leaning against his fur-coated side. A long red 
tongue groomed the boy's neck despite how much he struggled to get away.

"Damn you, Gmork!" the black-haired man shouted as he struggled 
against his bonds. His hands were tied firmly together so all he 
could do was try kicking with his legs. Gmork shook his head and 
leaned closer with the bauble.

"You aren't angry at me, boy." His voice glided over his tongue, 
across the surface of the smooth brass sphere, and went into the 
young man's ears where they twisted and twisted. "You are angry at 
your master Ture for putting you in such danger. The soldiers could 
have killed you for Ture's treachery."

Within a few minutes of many similar words, that same man was crying 
for forgiveness because he did not know where Ture had gone. Gmork 
even allowed the man to kiss his toes since he begged so earnestly 
for such a debasement. The bauble glowed a bright orange, vibrant and 
all-absorbing.

The blond-haired man wailed beneath his gag and struggled to break 
his bonds, but Gmork's second son put one paw on his chest and held 
him down as firmly as if it were an anvil. When his gag was removed, 
he begged for mercy. "I don't know anything! He's told you already. I 
don't know anything!"

Gmork leaned back on his haunches, tail wagging, as he put one finger 
to his chin and sighed, "If only there were a way I could know for 
certain that you were telling the truth." His eyes brightened 
fiendish and triumphant. "Ah, there is." He took another dark bauble 
and walked toward the cowering man. The last apprentice wailed as he 
struggled against his third pup's embrace and impromptu grooming.

The blond-haired man surrendered his will even more quickly than his 
fellow, and within another minute both were slavish pets waiting with 
nervous anxiety for a command from their beloved master. Gmork set 
their baubles back in the reliquary and considered what to do with 
them. The answer was obvious.

He turned to his second pup and said. "Show these two where they can 
watch the Baron's little laboratory unobserved." Then, he smiled to 
his pets and stroked them each on the head as if they were little 
dogs. "You are going to watch what the Baron does and says. Think 
every one of his words as clearly as you can in your mind. Do not 
reveal yourselves for any reason. I will send for you when you may 
rest and when you may eat. And obey my sons as you would obey me. Do 
you understand?"

They nodded eagerly. He licked them across the face from chin to 
forehead before turning to his two pups. "Since you are now awake, 
find your brothers and once you can, send them back here so they can 
sleep. And tell the soldiers to return to their patrol."

His third pup deposited the boy on the rumpled pile of fur and cloth 
as he followed his brother and the two pets out. The boy scooted on 
his rear as far as he could away from Gmork who paid him no mind 
until he closed the door.

"You do not need to be afraid of me, boy. I am not going to hurt you. 
I am not going to make you one of my pets." He turned and allowed a 
mostly human face to smile ever so faintly. "You are a very fortunate boy."

The boy pressed as far into the corner as he could go as Gmork came 
closer, crouching over him and gently placing his hands on the boy's 
knees. His face loomed close, ears twitching and nose swelling with 
each measured breath. He studied the boy intently, looking into him 
and seeing the way his spirit brushed against all the threads of 
magic flowing past him. Most humans were so detached from that flow 
that they could never even discern its presence; they could only 
marvel at what magicians could do.

But this boy could feel them, and from the way little threads were 
being bound together in his presence to form some rudimentary shield, 
the boy could willfully use them too. Gmork's lips and teeth 
stretched a finger's width as he blew into that mental casting, 
scattering the threads like dried leaves. "You don't need those; not 
from me. Nor do you need this anymore." He lifted one hand and pulled 
the knot out of his gag. He tossed the rag aside and then grabbed the 
boy's head firmly in one hand, while the other very gently stroked 
along the red marks where the gag had bit into his flesh.

"I am sorry that the soldiers handled you so roughly." His touch 
conveyed a sullen warmth that did nothing to still the boy's 
trembling fright, but the bruising healed. And with each stroke he 
brushed his own magical core against that of the boy's. "Isn't that 
better?" The boy alternately glared and cowered. His grip did not 
tighten, nor did he press his claws into the boy's cheeks, but his 
jaws did stretch further and his voice was accompanied by an 
insistent growl. "You will answer me when I ask you a question."

"No!" the boy said through clenched teeth. "I hate you! I hate you 
and your filthy pups! I hate you all!"

The burst of anger made the boy's magic flare erratically. Gmork 
reached into it and slid his will through its variegated channels and 
paths. The sudden invasion made the boy gasp and moan like an oily 
liquid being sucked down a drain. His eyes widened and his head 
rolled back, spittle dribbling across his lips. Fur sprouted along 
Gmork's back as his nose swelled and blackened.

Unlike the foreigner, this boy had little self-control and knew 
nothing about guarding himself. His magical talent was weak and 
unformed, but it could be trained. There was some meager strength in 
the boy that would be useful. Weaker than any of his other pups, it 
was nevertheless strong enough to enable him to become a child of 
Gmork. So weak, so unprepared, it would not be more than a few days 
before Gmork had begun to mold his flesh and his will. He would only 
ever be able to cast minor spells, but if used wisely even they could 
prove devastating. At the very least, in a few weeks, Gmork would 
have another son.

But there was only so many changes he could make at once without 
hurting his newest pup. Once he was satisfied that he knew the boy's 
magical abilities and had begun laying the foundation for a love of 
his father, he withdrew and resumed stroking the boy's face with 
rough paw pads. "Now, isn't that better?"

The boy blinked, eyes and face still completely human though now 
slack and dazed. "I... I..." Slowly he lowered his head and his eyes 
briefly met Gmork's golden regard. He quickly lowered them further 
and stared at his knees. "It is."

"Father," Gmork said softly. "Call me Father."

The objection had no energy behind it. "But you... you aren't..."

"I am now. Call me Father."

The boy swallowed and tried to shake his head. "You aren't... I... I 
cannot..." He winced and tears began to flow down his cheeks and 
across Gmork's furry hands. "I... you aren't my... you... you... Father."

"I am." He reiterated. He narrowed his gaze and leaned back a hand 
span. "I can see why the Baron never took an interest in you. Your 
face is marred in a way he would consider most foul. These," he 
tapped one of the warts with the tip of a claw, "are not healthy for 
you. I will remove them." The boy stirred with a sudden apprehension, 
but he pressed his other paw-like hand against the boy's chest and 
stilled both his heart and his magic. "The Baron will not touch you. 
You are under my protection now. You are mine, my little pup."

The boy blinked but still the tears came. His mind was a cacophony of 
fears and confusion that rendered him pliable. The adoption was 
always different for each mage, Gmork had learned. Where his eldest 
here in Arabarb had eagerly welcomed the change thinking it would 
bring him more power, and his latest had resisted it with titanic 
effort for over a month, this one would eventually cling to Gmork out 
of fear of everything else. He could see it already.

He grasped the nearest of his warts between his thumb and finger, and 
pulled firmly. A little magical will expended, and the wart and its 
disgusting roots in the flesh slid free of the boy's cheek. Blood 
followed which Gmork cleaned with his tongue until the wound had 
closed. He held the fungus up so that the boy might see. "This was 
eating into you, my son. If not for this, you would have been brought 
to the Baron earlier this year. I would have protected you then too. 
This is foul. I will destroy it for you."

Gmork set the wart on the stone as far away as his arm could reach. 
He spread his fingers wide a few inches above the wart, and the 
entire thing was consumed by a burst of flame. A moment later nothing 
was left but a wisp of ash and a blackened scar against the stone. 
The boy's eyes fluttered in wonder.

Gmork smiled and stroked the boy's now clean cheek. "Would you like 
me to remove the others, my son?"

The boy hesitated, but as that soft hand continued to brush against 
his cheek, he finally started to nod. "Aye... Father."

Gmork growled in delight.

----------

Yajgaj had been surprised when Gmork and his slavish pups had 
returned when they did. He'd hoped to have another hour or two to 
make his preparations. Instead he gave order to the Blood Harrow he'd 
grown closest too since coming west to Arabarb to wake him after an 
hour's rest. It was all he dared allow himself. The beast mage would 
be at his most alert after returning from their hunt and so he could 
do nothing then.

His rest was deeper than he would have liked, and the Lutin warrior 
had dreams of the man in the dungeon, the boy in Calephas's 
laboratory, the dragon that had killed Gmork's youngest pup, and the 
woman they all sought. Wisps of reverie floated through his thoughts 
and chased after him, no matter how much he tried to run from them. 
Nearby he could see the camp of his tribe nestled in the crook of the 
mountains overlooking a plain so cold that only stunted trees and 
bright wild flowers grew. His dreams assured him that within the 
Blood Harrow camp he would find security and an end to all confusion; 
but no matter how fast he ran he never seemed to get any closer to it.

Two faces laughed him to scorn. The lupine visage of Gmork, his 
muzzle drenched in blood from an adoring pet, barked in mocking 
derision to his left. And to his right the sneering countenance of 
Baron Calephas regarded him as he crushed Lutins and men alike 
beneath his boot. Yajgaj reached for his bone knives but could not 
find them. And one by one those evil men murdered the prisoner, the 
boy, the dragon, and the woman over and over again.

So when his friend and fellow warrior returned to wake him, he felt 
better merely for having risen from his meager cot. "Khilaj," he said 
as he pulled his hides over his wiry, green chest and arms, "where is 
he and his young?"

Khilaj grunted and his yellow eyes looked hatefully at the ceiling. 
"Two went into town. They sent the tanner's apprentices back to their 
father. They're with him now."

Yajgaj licked the back of his sharp teeth as he wrapped his bearskin 
buckler and sheathed his knives. "Then he will not watch us a while." 
Grabbing his friend's shoulder, he leaned in close and whispered into 
the long, pointed ear, "Send six of our tribe to guard the armory. 
Make humans there go man the wharves." He smiled in wicked amusement. 
"Don't want Resistance taking the river."

Khilaj laughed and nodded. "And you?"

"There's other places in the city the men need to watch. I tend them."

The two Lutins grinned as they left the dungeon's antechamber together.




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May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,

Charles Matthias


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