Awake
On a flat patch of ground, amongst a group of huge boulders, strewn in the high, rolling foothills overlooking the semi-desert plains of the border country, slept two large, well muscled soldiers.
Robert Warmen slowly stirred. He was better known to his army friends as 'Grizzly or Griz' because of his shaggy black hair and broad-shouldered, no-necked, short-legged build.
Grizzly saw red. Literally. The sun was shining on his closed eyelids.
He slowly registered pains, a few, in various places.
The accompanying hangover symptoms were so familiar, he did not count them as pain, ailments, or unusual.
He rolled to one side and removed a fist sized rock from under his kidney, then slumped again onto his back. His head was pounding and he was hot.
Damn! he thought, as he realised the red eyelids meant the sun was up, and he was late rising. Very late.
Grizzly wisely turned away from the sun's glare before he tried opening his eyes. Only one of his eyelids obeyed. The other was painful and stubbornly swollen shut. He raised his hand to gently assess the damage.
Feeling his tender, bruised socket-bone and severely swollen eye, he cursed. 'Damn!' He winced, as he noticed in speaking, that he also had a badly split and swollen lip.
Grizzly's one-eyed stare; was focusing on the two saddles and gear pile. 'Damn!' he said again, quickly followed by more colourful curses with increasing volume.
His mood was darkening because, as he looked around, he noticed their horses were nowhere to be seen.
Grizzly picked up the rock he had slept on and hurled it at his still snoring, service-long friend. It made a satisfying 'thunk' as it hit his friends ribcage.
'Ow! What from the seven hells!' exclaimed his friend as he awoke.
Peter 'The Door' Smithson rolled carefully over towards his Captain, pushing away a few rocks from under himself as he did so. He glanced at the sunrise. 'Damn!' he spat, then he noticed the absence of the horses he groaned, 'nooo, not again!' then punched the ground.
His friend confirmed his fear. 'Yup.'
Door turned his delicate, throbbing head slowly. He focused his bleary eyes on his long-time friend who was laying, head propped-up on one arm, not far from him.
'What in the seven hells happened to you?' Door asked on seeing his friend's dramatically cut and swollen bottom lip and eye.
'You did!'
'Again?'
'Again!' Grizzly said in resignation, then, 'Ha! Good night I think,' as his face lit up briefly with his famous, if somewhat swollen and lopsided, woman-catching grin.
'Argh! Apologies Grizzly.' Door said as he flopped back down, appreciating the rocks now being absent from under his back.
A minute or two passed in silence.
'Was a good night then?' Door said with a grin. He heard his friend chuckle. 'Good brandy, more like.' Another shared chuckle. 'The sun is up, we need to get ourselves together before the day watch get here.'
'Yup-sir! In a moment or two eh?'
Door came round again, some time later, to the smell of camp-fire smoke and coffee. A smile crept across his face as he said, 'A man's best friend is his early-rising, coffee-making, brandy-finding, high ranking, drinking companion.'
They both laughed as loud and long as hangovers and injuries permitted, then again, as they saw the other cringing against their ailments.
'Good night indeed.' Mused Grizzly as he squatted to pour the coffee into their huge and battered, army-issue tin mugs. 'Except for one thing. I still can't find the horses. Something must have spooked them, probably your singing. So our first mission is to find them. Pray we do, before the day-watch get here.'
'Oh, that's right, blame my singing! I suspect I was not singing alone?'
'No, you were not unaccompanied. However, my baritone friend, with my privilege of rank, I am blaming you.' Grizzly laughed, and continued. 'Just so I can order you to go round up our flighty, idiot mounts, while I break camp.'
Grizzly stood, stretched and said, 'Anyways, I should take advantage of my rank sometimes.' A wry smile crept over his face, 'other than to procure brandy, at least until they demote me again for dereliction of duties later.' Both men laughed again. Door had a coughing fit, then asked. 'Sir? Has anyone else ever had a career like yours?'
'Some have yes, but they were hung as examples after any major transgression following their second demotion.'
'Why do you think I have been stationed in this far-flung, hells-hole for two years, with no home leave? It is to give the army time to forget about our past escapades. But there is fortune for me in this.'
'You know well; my friend, I should also have been betrothed, or married off by now,' Grizzly laughed. 'So I guess it has not all been punishment. But, if it wasn't for my lineage, a hanging would have been my fate. Last time.' Door interrupted, 'They will never hang you old friend, on account of you having no neck!' Door burst out laughing at this. Grizzly gave him an exasperated smile, saying. 'Friend, that old running-joke is barely crawling these days.'
'I beg to differ, unless you grow a neck that is!' Door slapped his friend on the leg, commenting. 'As long as your deformity keeps you from the gallows, I am happy, and so should you be, neck or no.' Grizzly finally joined his friend in laughter, saying. 'What is a neck for anyway, apart from extra washing? But I am wishing now, considering the situation we appear to be in, that there were female judges and court-martial officers, women are sooo much more forgiving than men.'
Grizzly laughed again and emptied the coffee dregs from the jug into the fire creating hissing steam clouds. He kicked sandy soil over the still hot embers, to choke off the steam. 'Look lively now. Let's minimise the explaining we have to do and go find those bloody horses.'
Door prised himself off the floor. 'Argh! I think you broke a rib with that rock Griz.'
'Nup, that was a roundhouse kick last night. It got you off to sleep nicely.' Both men laughed.
Grizzly broke watch-camp stiffly, while Door searched for the horses.
Grizzly spouted various moans and groans as he re-discovered the many small but painful injuries caused by last nights brief; drunken brawl, and an uncomfortable sleep.
Door returned empty-handed and crestfallen. 'The horses have wandered, their tracks look to be headed back towards barracks.'
'Damn all smart horses! Those two will get us hung! Get your saddle and gear, we go after them. As speedily as we are able.'
The two trudged down the smooth and dusty track, worn into the ground by countless watchmen over the years, as it wound down the through the boulder and rock strewn foothills.
It would be a half hour of heavy marching until they could see across the plains to the barracks. Both men hoped to encounter the horses whilst still in the foothills. They also hoped that their hangovers would be gone before the Major started bawling at them.
Door spoke. 'Erm, how did we come to blows?'
At the end of the bottle, you decided you wanted coffee. You stumbled over one of the logs in the smouldering, almost-out fire, you overbalanced and head-butted me.'
Grizzly gestured to his eye. 'For my part, I reacted by left-hooking you in the mouth. You did likewise. I was too drunk to stand, so I booted you in the ribs from where I sat. You, fell back, laid still and began snoring in seconds. All calm again.
I carried on with my watch for some time, finishing my brandy, but fell asleep before I woke you for your turn.' He grinned, wincing as his lip split open again. 'Average night really.'
Door chuckled. 'How shall we explain our injuries, and the loss of the horses?'
'First, we pray to Critta, and hope He lets us find the horses before they find the barracks. If not, and we do not find them on the way home, then we lie. A snake spooked the horses, we fell, they ran.'
'That lie will not work, we have the saddles.'
'Curse expensive brandy! My brain is not functioning yet. Hmm. We made camp and were brushing the horses down, snake, rearing, injuries to us, horses run, dark, lost, we stayed dutifully on watch?'
'Agreed.' said Door. I am wondering where the relief watch are?'
'Yup, I also. It is curious. My guess? They have our mounts and are waiting somewhere to ambush us with ridicule and torment.'
The friends fell to silence as they wound their way down through the foothills, appreciating the occasional shade thrown by the larger boulders.
The saddles and packs were heavy and awkward. Despite the pair's renown strength, the drink, the minor injuries and hangovers caused the ever increasing heat of the day have them both breathless.
As they broached the last rise before barracks, the two were met with a strange sight. There seemed to be no soldiers home, the barracks seemed deserted. No men, no horses, no cook smoke. 'Nooo break-faaaast!' wailed Door.
'Trust you! Something is not right.' said Grizzly. Realisation. 'Shit! they may have been re-deployed, that could make us absent-without-leave until we find them. That's another hanging offence'.
They scanned the land in all directions as they walked slowly back to barracks, knowing it now pointless to hurry in the growing heat. There were no dust-clouds on the horizon to show the direction the camp had marched in, nor sign of a skeleton watch having being left behind. Curious.
The Enchanters Domain
One of the most highly qualified Free Enchanters on the planet was busy at work, he was enjoying himself today. His broad smile was subconscious, as he admired his near completed project.
The noises and foul smells emanating from the huge animal pen were not registering on his senses at all.
He was creating!
The design had been fine-tuned. The casings had been made. It had taken hundreds of years to achieve. He had completed dozens of thousands of the various experimental shapes and had assembled them with the aid of his tame serve-ants.
He had copied from nature, but still had had to labour hard to get the designs right. The joints, the hinges, the articulation, the cavities, all had to be correct. Many hum-ant lives had been lost testing the prototypes.
The Enchanter's original concept had been to create fearsome army of huge spiders.
He had settled on spiders for his design because a high percentage of the hum-ant population, be they male of female, had an irrational fear of the pathetic creatures.
This would give his army an advantage before they attacked, instilling fear and awe in the intended victims, and would terrify more than few of the most hardened warriors before battle was met.
It always had amused the Enchanter that a spider's size seemed to increase the fear factor for most people, despite the fact that the most toxic and dangerous spiders were invariably the smaller ones.
So this had been the Enchanters original plan.
The final design was not a true spider shape, that had been too impractical for his purposes.
He had wasted many years on trying to copy exactly the dimensions of large spiders, then had to change his design, the slim parts of the body between head, thorax and abdomen had proved problematic in practice, because under pressure, being made of a hard material, the casings snapped at these points.
Eventually, The Enchanter settled on a body casing design akin to a woodlouse, but with more backward flexibility. The legs he kept exactly as a spiders legs were, because they worked. The head was spider-like in shape, but was positioned at a sharper angle to the body. This was to compensate for the lack of real spider eyes. This ensured that his marching army could see ahead of themselves. The final head-casing was built along the designs of a full helm, having eye-slits and small holes for nose and ears as the only fixed openings. The jaw was hinged to allow the things to bite and feed.
Oddly, the Enchanter found this design to be even more intimidating than a simple spider copy would have been. He was very satisfied with the overall effect and practicality of his wonderful design.
Each segment of the casings had been cast using magic and the volcanic lava flowing through the mountain. It had taken him a decade just to create the dies for castings, and as long again to create the tap-ended conduits to channel the lava.
The molten stone hereabouts had a special qualities, it contained various metals, silicone and minerals which all aided the absorption of his spell casting.
The Enchanter looked up from his work, eyeing the cavern. He rather liked the effect the seeping water made, striating the enormous cavern around him with its dried mineral deposits.
The iron ore and seeping water mixed to colour the walls, stains crept downwards. The stains were orange-brown. It reminded him of old bloodstains. The iron also gave off a strong smell, similar to when it rains after a drought. The Enchanter thought about cold and rainy days, and was glad to be living here, warm inside the volcanically heated mountain.
It was no wonder that Dwarves had heavily populated this particular mountain in times past, but no longer, the Enchanter had seen to that.
The Enchanter knew the local Dwarves knew nothing of his enterprise.
His first task on coming here had been to cause many cave-ins, so the Dwarves would believe the mountain to be unstable. They did, and had moved to other more eastern mountains. The Enchanter caused more cave-ins and directed lava flows to seal off all access from surrounding areas, to be sure no hum-ant nor beast ever found his home.
The Enchanter had also set wards and suggestions into the solid rock to deter even the most adventurous miner, Dwarf or otherwise, from ever heading this way again.
The only open access to the surface now was on the opposite; western side of the mountain, far from the eastern leg of the mountain and the beginning of the inner mountain ranges, where Dwarves still lived and worked.
The western entrance the Enchanter also altered, so it also, would not be used by man nor beast. The Enchanter had directed poisonous fumes and scalding steam via conduits to always fill and then flow out from the narrow crevice.
He could close down the ducts, should he need to use that entrance, but he rarely did as he had other, private and magical means of entering and exiting his home.
'Your Highness?' croaked a rough voice beside him.
'What is it now!' He snapped, irritated at being drawn from his reverie.
'The animal you requested, is stripped and cleaned.'
'Ah, excellent, bring it here in a few minutes time, and bring four helpers.'
The Enchanter went back to his work. He was busy part-filling the casing cavities with a charge-conducting, living gel substance. He was being very careful not to let any spill on his hands.
This was not work to be given over to his serve-ants, until he remembered to take the time to compel-spell them to do it right. There had been too many accidents, and then more accidents while trying to clean up the mess. As amusing to observe as the events had been, they were rather inconvenient.
Good serve-ants were hard to come by, but the entertainment provided by throwing the surviving accident victims into the animal pen was stimulating, until the other animals finally collaborated and tore the demon-contaminated, clumsy serve-ants to pieces.
The first few completed casings were ready. The Enchanter stepped back to admire his workmanship. 'Bring me the animal!' He shouted, impatient now to conclude this foetal part of his experimental project.
After some minutes, three of his serve-ants roughly dragged in the now clean and naked Harry, they were followed by two other men. They tugged Harry over to stand in front of the Enchanter who enquired of him cordially, 'Hello Harry, killed any innocent people recently?' Harry smiled at this, knowing that he had. 'Lay on the floor please Harry'. Harry obeyed, as with all of the hum-ants, the Enchanter had added a compulsion spell to Harry's amulet. The man would do anything the Enchanter asked. 'Now Harry, lay very still for about five minutes.'
The Enchanter turned to the serve-ants instructing; 'Cut off his arms just above the elbow, and his legs just above the knee, oh, and pass me the legs first.'
'Yes, your Highness.' Said all of the five men, showing no reaction nor emotion at the request.
'No!' screamed Harry repeatedly, thrashing about pathetically, managing only minute movements against the compulsion spell.
'Why do I always forget to tell them not to speak?' pondered the Enchanter to himself. 'Harry, one more word and I will take your tongue myself!' The Enchanter knew he would have to carry out the threat now he had spoken it, and that Harry would have had plenty more to say soon enough. He laughed.
The enchanter passed hatchets to two of the serve-ants.
At the sight of the gleaming blades Harry began screaming again.
The Enchanter took a deep breath, saying with great exasperation. 'All that noise is spoiling my concentration! And, will you serve-ants remind me to compel-spell the animals not to speak, shout or scream next time please?'
'Yes, your Highness.' replied the five serve-ants.
The Enchanter said. 'get me a knife, I want his tongue out! Then changed his mind, saying, 'No, no, at ease, I have a better idea.' He picked up one of the short fat syringes he had been using to fill the casings a moment ago and waited, saying again.
'Get to it, cut off his arms and legs as instructed.' The two men bearing hatchets approached Harry, who, wide eyed, started screaming again. One leg was deftly severed. Harry's screams now sounded different because he was experiencing the pain, not just fearing it. The Enchanter noted these details as he leant over and emptied the contents of the syringe into Harry's mouth. The tone of the screaming changed again, gurgling, turning to a growl, as the gel took effect.
Fascinated, the Enchanter watched briefly, as Harry's mouth and jaw began flopping about as they changed consistency, before he turned and walked back over to the open casing.
After the other limbs were severed. The serve-ants swapped hatchets for limbs, carrying the dripping flesh to the Enchanter who gently placed the legs into the farthest left two sections of the casing, closing them. He then gently placed the arms into the farthest right two sections, closing them also. 'Quickly, bring the rest of it!' He said. 'We do not have long before it bleeds to death.'
The three men carried the shuddering mess that was Harry over to the casing. It was obvious where he had to be placed now, the central casing was clearly designed for a torso, head and stumps. 'Lay it in, lay it in! But gently, be careful do not let the gel touch your skin, and wash it quickly if it does.' Said the Enchanter, excitement and impatience driving his clipped words.
When Harry was in place. The casings over his stumps were closed and sealed, as were the ones for his torso, then very slowly the Enchanter closed the casing over Harry's head, his vertebra made clear, sharp clicking sounds as his neck was slowly stretched and pushed backwards unnaturally far.
The Enchanter peered into the eye slot. 'Good, good.' he said relieved he had not broken Harry's neck, happy to see his eyes flicking wildly from side to side.
The Enchanter's eyes scanned the casings, admiring his design, nothing much of Harry could now be seen, eyes were visible through slits in the head-casing and there was also a slit at the base of the torso-casing, this allowed for all bodily functions.
The Enchanter was a little disappointed that there was no way around these unavoidable weak-spots. He knew that without continually investing a lot of healing magic into the casings, or compromising the self-sufficiency, effectiveness and health of the animals, the design was at its optimum.
He hoped the animals which would be inhabiting the casings would come to appreciate his design. He chuckled to himself, wondering if the male animals particularly, would be fully functional, and if they would still want to be. Time will tell, the Enchanter sighed.
Harry was encased. He was clearly still alive because the casings were weakly thrashing about and some muffled sounds were coming from where his head was.
'Time for dinner. We will leave Harry for a few hours while he settles in to his new home.' The Enchanter chuckled at his own quip.
The Enchanter had no sympathy for Harry. Before he had found him, Harry had been a ruthless, savage, paid assassin who quite happily tortured and murdered young innocents for fun between jobs, just to keep in practice.
Being an honest, guild assassin was one thing, but an honour-less sadistic one was just not acceptable. Harry had thus created his own fate. He had become corrupt, dishonest and evil, just the type of man The Free Enchanter needed.
The Enchanter walked over to his private washbasin. The water continually flowed in and away, there was a small gate to block the flow, collecting water in the basin if need be. He was always proud of his innovations. He very carefully washed his face and hands in the cold water.
The water came from a small rivulet he had created, one of many, an offshoot of the underground stream he had redirected to pass down conduits to be utilised throughout his home and down further levels to run finally through the animal pen.
The simplest ideas were often the best.
The stream entered the animal pen at the higher end, half way up the back wall. It spilled into a large basin which overflowed into a channel running to the front of the pen and then along the three hundred yards at floor level, to the other end, where it flowed down through a hole and carried on eventually to where nature intended.
When the Enchanter finally decided his hands were clean enough, he wandered up through his gently sloping work cavern.
He walked slowly past the animal pen, which was simply a huge area of cavern separated off by iron bars. The bars stretched the length of the cavern, and from floor to ceiling. The pen was one-hundred-fifty yards deep and three-hundred yards wide. It reached up to the roof of the cavern one-hundred yards above him.
The Enchanter paused to look at the hum-ant animals within. Some meandered around the pen, looking to vent their frustration and rage on other prisoners, but most were hunkered for one reason or another, in the hundreds of deep, dark alcoves dug into the back wall. Each was accessed via the shelflike walkways of rock running along the front of them. There were stairways at either end of the pen climbing up to the walkways on the different levels.
There was always a lot going on in the pen. It could be quite stimulating to spend time in his big comfortable chair opposite, watching.
The Enchanter spent a few hours a day, doing just that. His chair was plush and comfortable, his serve-ants saw to his every need. He was entertained.
The pen held close to a thousand hum-ant animals. He had spent many hundreds of years, seeking out these very special specimens of humanity.
Some of them had been born here, although very few of the young animals survived into adulthood for one reason or another. He did not care about these fatalities, those few that survived were just what he needed- brutal, insane and savage.
The Enchanter looked to see who he recognised. He liked to see the ever changing dynamic in the pen.
Some of the prisoners had been here centuries, he had tweaked their amulets on arrival, to ensure their great longevity, necessary- because truly evil people were a very, very rare commodity.
He required twisted, soul-less, empathy-free, sadistic people, that hated humanity with a vengeance. These people were what he had so painstakingly sought out and collected from all over the known world and brought them here. His quest for them had been, and still was, a very amusing pastime.
Gazing into the pen, he saw a cacophony of action and, as usual, heard many shouts and screams, he focused in on one of the louder sources of screaming, a woman giving birth, boring. He focused in on another screaming woman, who obviously unwilling, was 'entertaining' a group men in an upper alcove. It was Mirgel. Interesting.
The Enchanter had known that woman in a few ways. He had picked up the evil aura emanating from her when they had randomly stayed at the same inn for a night. He had then followed and observed her through a few towns, amused at her antics.
On a flat patch of ground, amongst a group of huge boulders, strewn in the high, rolling foothills overlooking the semi-desert plains of the border country, slept two large, well muscled soldiers.
Robert Warmen slowly stirred. He was better known to his army friends as 'Grizzly or Griz' because of his shaggy black hair and broad-shouldered, no-necked, short-legged build.
Grizzly saw red. Literally. The sun was shining on his closed eyelids.
He slowly registered pains, a few, in various places.
The accompanying hangover symptoms were so familiar, he did not count them as pain, ailments, or unusual.
He rolled to one side and removed a fist sized rock from under his kidney, then slumped again onto his back. His head was pounding and he was hot.
Damn! he thought, as he realised the red eyelids meant the sun was up, and he was late rising. Very late.
Grizzly wisely turned away from the sun's glare before he tried opening his eyes. Only one of his eyelids obeyed. The other was painful and stubbornly swollen shut. He raised his hand to gently assess the damage.
Feeling his tender, bruised socket-bone and severely swollen eye, he cursed. 'Damn!' He winced, as he noticed in speaking, that he also had a badly split and swollen lip.
Grizzly's one-eyed stare; was focusing on the two saddles and gear pile. 'Damn!' he said again, quickly followed by more colourful curses with increasing volume.
His mood was darkening because, as he looked around, he noticed their horses were nowhere to be seen.
Grizzly picked up the rock he had slept on and hurled it at his still snoring, service-long friend. It made a satisfying 'thunk' as it hit his friends ribcage.
'Ow! What from the seven hells!' exclaimed his friend as he awoke.
Peter 'The Door' Smithson rolled carefully over towards his Captain, pushing away a few rocks from under himself as he did so. He glanced at the sunrise. 'Damn!' he spat, then he noticed the absence of the horses he groaned, 'nooo, not again!' then punched the ground.
His friend confirmed his fear. 'Yup.'
Door turned his delicate, throbbing head slowly. He focused his bleary eyes on his long-time friend who was laying, head propped-up on one arm, not far from him.
'What in the seven hells happened to you?' Door asked on seeing his friend's dramatically cut and swollen bottom lip and eye.
'You did!'
'Again?'
'Again!' Grizzly said in resignation, then, 'Ha! Good night I think,' as his face lit up briefly with his famous, if somewhat swollen and lopsided, woman-catching grin.
'Argh! Apologies Grizzly.' Door said as he flopped back down, appreciating the rocks now being absent from under his back.
A minute or two passed in silence.
'Was a good night then?' Door said with a grin. He heard his friend chuckle. 'Good brandy, more like.' Another shared chuckle. 'The sun is up, we need to get ourselves together before the day watch get here.'
'Yup-sir! In a moment or two eh?'
Door came round again, some time later, to the smell of camp-fire smoke and coffee. A smile crept across his face as he said, 'A man's best friend is his early-rising, coffee-making, brandy-finding, high ranking, drinking companion.'
They both laughed as loud and long as hangovers and injuries permitted, then again, as they saw the other cringing against their ailments.
'Good night indeed.' Mused Grizzly as he squatted to pour the coffee into their huge and battered, army-issue tin mugs. 'Except for one thing. I still can't find the horses. Something must have spooked them, probably your singing. So our first mission is to find them. Pray we do, before the day-watch get here.'
'Oh, that's right, blame my singing! I suspect I was not singing alone?'
'No, you were not unaccompanied. However, my baritone friend, with my privilege of rank, I am blaming you.' Grizzly laughed, and continued. 'Just so I can order you to go round up our flighty, idiot mounts, while I break camp.'
Grizzly stood, stretched and said, 'Anyways, I should take advantage of my rank sometimes.' A wry smile crept over his face, 'other than to procure brandy, at least until they demote me again for dereliction of duties later.' Both men laughed again. Door had a coughing fit, then asked. 'Sir? Has anyone else ever had a career like yours?'
'Some have yes, but they were hung as examples after any major transgression following their second demotion.'
'Why do you think I have been stationed in this far-flung, hells-hole for two years, with no home leave? It is to give the army time to forget about our past escapades. But there is fortune for me in this.'
'You know well; my friend, I should also have been betrothed, or married off by now,' Grizzly laughed. 'So I guess it has not all been punishment. But, if it wasn't for my lineage, a hanging would have been my fate. Last time.' Door interrupted, 'They will never hang you old friend, on account of you having no neck!' Door burst out laughing at this. Grizzly gave him an exasperated smile, saying. 'Friend, that old running-joke is barely crawling these days.'
'I beg to differ, unless you grow a neck that is!' Door slapped his friend on the leg, commenting. 'As long as your deformity keeps you from the gallows, I am happy, and so should you be, neck or no.' Grizzly finally joined his friend in laughter, saying. 'What is a neck for anyway, apart from extra washing? But I am wishing now, considering the situation we appear to be in, that there were female judges and court-martial officers, women are sooo much more forgiving than men.'
Grizzly laughed again and emptied the coffee dregs from the jug into the fire creating hissing steam clouds. He kicked sandy soil over the still hot embers, to choke off the steam. 'Look lively now. Let's minimise the explaining we have to do and go find those bloody horses.'
Door prised himself off the floor. 'Argh! I think you broke a rib with that rock Griz.'
'Nup, that was a roundhouse kick last night. It got you off to sleep nicely.' Both men laughed.
Grizzly broke watch-camp stiffly, while Door searched for the horses.
Grizzly spouted various moans and groans as he re-discovered the many small but painful injuries caused by last nights brief; drunken brawl, and an uncomfortable sleep.
Door returned empty-handed and crestfallen. 'The horses have wandered, their tracks look to be headed back towards barracks.'
'Damn all smart horses! Those two will get us hung! Get your saddle and gear, we go after them. As speedily as we are able.'
The two trudged down the smooth and dusty track, worn into the ground by countless watchmen over the years, as it wound down the through the boulder and rock strewn foothills.
It would be a half hour of heavy marching until they could see across the plains to the barracks. Both men hoped to encounter the horses whilst still in the foothills. They also hoped that their hangovers would be gone before the Major started bawling at them.
Door spoke. 'Erm, how did we come to blows?'
At the end of the bottle, you decided you wanted coffee. You stumbled over one of the logs in the smouldering, almost-out fire, you overbalanced and head-butted me.'
Grizzly gestured to his eye. 'For my part, I reacted by left-hooking you in the mouth. You did likewise. I was too drunk to stand, so I booted you in the ribs from where I sat. You, fell back, laid still and began snoring in seconds. All calm again.
I carried on with my watch for some time, finishing my brandy, but fell asleep before I woke you for your turn.' He grinned, wincing as his lip split open again. 'Average night really.'
Door chuckled. 'How shall we explain our injuries, and the loss of the horses?'
'First, we pray to Critta, and hope He lets us find the horses before they find the barracks. If not, and we do not find them on the way home, then we lie. A snake spooked the horses, we fell, they ran.'
'That lie will not work, we have the saddles.'
'Curse expensive brandy! My brain is not functioning yet. Hmm. We made camp and were brushing the horses down, snake, rearing, injuries to us, horses run, dark, lost, we stayed dutifully on watch?'
'Agreed.' said Door. I am wondering where the relief watch are?'
'Yup, I also. It is curious. My guess? They have our mounts and are waiting somewhere to ambush us with ridicule and torment.'
The friends fell to silence as they wound their way down through the foothills, appreciating the occasional shade thrown by the larger boulders.
The saddles and packs were heavy and awkward. Despite the pair's renown strength, the drink, the minor injuries and hangovers caused the ever increasing heat of the day have them both breathless.
As they broached the last rise before barracks, the two were met with a strange sight. There seemed to be no soldiers home, the barracks seemed deserted. No men, no horses, no cook smoke. 'Nooo break-faaaast!' wailed Door.
'Trust you! Something is not right.' said Grizzly. Realisation. 'Shit! they may have been re-deployed, that could make us absent-without-leave until we find them. That's another hanging offence'.
They scanned the land in all directions as they walked slowly back to barracks, knowing it now pointless to hurry in the growing heat. There were no dust-clouds on the horizon to show the direction the camp had marched in, nor sign of a skeleton watch having being left behind. Curious.
The Enchanters Domain
One of the most highly qualified Free Enchanters on the planet was busy at work, he was enjoying himself today. His broad smile was subconscious, as he admired his near completed project.
The noises and foul smells emanating from the huge animal pen were not registering on his senses at all.
He was creating!
The design had been fine-tuned. The casings had been made. It had taken hundreds of years to achieve. He had completed dozens of thousands of the various experimental shapes and had assembled them with the aid of his tame serve-ants.
He had copied from nature, but still had had to labour hard to get the designs right. The joints, the hinges, the articulation, the cavities, all had to be correct. Many hum-ant lives had been lost testing the prototypes.
The Enchanter's original concept had been to create fearsome army of huge spiders.
He had settled on spiders for his design because a high percentage of the hum-ant population, be they male of female, had an irrational fear of the pathetic creatures.
This would give his army an advantage before they attacked, instilling fear and awe in the intended victims, and would terrify more than few of the most hardened warriors before battle was met.
It always had amused the Enchanter that a spider's size seemed to increase the fear factor for most people, despite the fact that the most toxic and dangerous spiders were invariably the smaller ones.
So this had been the Enchanters original plan.
The final design was not a true spider shape, that had been too impractical for his purposes.
He had wasted many years on trying to copy exactly the dimensions of large spiders, then had to change his design, the slim parts of the body between head, thorax and abdomen had proved problematic in practice, because under pressure, being made of a hard material, the casings snapped at these points.
Eventually, The Enchanter settled on a body casing design akin to a woodlouse, but with more backward flexibility. The legs he kept exactly as a spiders legs were, because they worked. The head was spider-like in shape, but was positioned at a sharper angle to the body. This was to compensate for the lack of real spider eyes. This ensured that his marching army could see ahead of themselves. The final head-casing was built along the designs of a full helm, having eye-slits and small holes for nose and ears as the only fixed openings. The jaw was hinged to allow the things to bite and feed.
Oddly, the Enchanter found this design to be even more intimidating than a simple spider copy would have been. He was very satisfied with the overall effect and practicality of his wonderful design.
Each segment of the casings had been cast using magic and the volcanic lava flowing through the mountain. It had taken him a decade just to create the dies for castings, and as long again to create the tap-ended conduits to channel the lava.
The molten stone hereabouts had a special qualities, it contained various metals, silicone and minerals which all aided the absorption of his spell casting.
The Enchanter looked up from his work, eyeing the cavern. He rather liked the effect the seeping water made, striating the enormous cavern around him with its dried mineral deposits.
The iron ore and seeping water mixed to colour the walls, stains crept downwards. The stains were orange-brown. It reminded him of old bloodstains. The iron also gave off a strong smell, similar to when it rains after a drought. The Enchanter thought about cold and rainy days, and was glad to be living here, warm inside the volcanically heated mountain.
It was no wonder that Dwarves had heavily populated this particular mountain in times past, but no longer, the Enchanter had seen to that.
The Enchanter knew the local Dwarves knew nothing of his enterprise.
His first task on coming here had been to cause many cave-ins, so the Dwarves would believe the mountain to be unstable. They did, and had moved to other more eastern mountains. The Enchanter caused more cave-ins and directed lava flows to seal off all access from surrounding areas, to be sure no hum-ant nor beast ever found his home.
The Enchanter had also set wards and suggestions into the solid rock to deter even the most adventurous miner, Dwarf or otherwise, from ever heading this way again.
The only open access to the surface now was on the opposite; western side of the mountain, far from the eastern leg of the mountain and the beginning of the inner mountain ranges, where Dwarves still lived and worked.
The western entrance the Enchanter also altered, so it also, would not be used by man nor beast. The Enchanter had directed poisonous fumes and scalding steam via conduits to always fill and then flow out from the narrow crevice.
He could close down the ducts, should he need to use that entrance, but he rarely did as he had other, private and magical means of entering and exiting his home.
'Your Highness?' croaked a rough voice beside him.
'What is it now!' He snapped, irritated at being drawn from his reverie.
'The animal you requested, is stripped and cleaned.'
'Ah, excellent, bring it here in a few minutes time, and bring four helpers.'
The Enchanter went back to his work. He was busy part-filling the casing cavities with a charge-conducting, living gel substance. He was being very careful not to let any spill on his hands.
This was not work to be given over to his serve-ants, until he remembered to take the time to compel-spell them to do it right. There had been too many accidents, and then more accidents while trying to clean up the mess. As amusing to observe as the events had been, they were rather inconvenient.
Good serve-ants were hard to come by, but the entertainment provided by throwing the surviving accident victims into the animal pen was stimulating, until the other animals finally collaborated and tore the demon-contaminated, clumsy serve-ants to pieces.
The first few completed casings were ready. The Enchanter stepped back to admire his workmanship. 'Bring me the animal!' He shouted, impatient now to conclude this foetal part of his experimental project.
After some minutes, three of his serve-ants roughly dragged in the now clean and naked Harry, they were followed by two other men. They tugged Harry over to stand in front of the Enchanter who enquired of him cordially, 'Hello Harry, killed any innocent people recently?' Harry smiled at this, knowing that he had. 'Lay on the floor please Harry'. Harry obeyed, as with all of the hum-ants, the Enchanter had added a compulsion spell to Harry's amulet. The man would do anything the Enchanter asked. 'Now Harry, lay very still for about five minutes.'
The Enchanter turned to the serve-ants instructing; 'Cut off his arms just above the elbow, and his legs just above the knee, oh, and pass me the legs first.'
'Yes, your Highness.' Said all of the five men, showing no reaction nor emotion at the request.
'No!' screamed Harry repeatedly, thrashing about pathetically, managing only minute movements against the compulsion spell.
'Why do I always forget to tell them not to speak?' pondered the Enchanter to himself. 'Harry, one more word and I will take your tongue myself!' The Enchanter knew he would have to carry out the threat now he had spoken it, and that Harry would have had plenty more to say soon enough. He laughed.
The enchanter passed hatchets to two of the serve-ants.
At the sight of the gleaming blades Harry began screaming again.
The Enchanter took a deep breath, saying with great exasperation. 'All that noise is spoiling my concentration! And, will you serve-ants remind me to compel-spell the animals not to speak, shout or scream next time please?'
'Yes, your Highness.' replied the five serve-ants.
The Enchanter said. 'get me a knife, I want his tongue out! Then changed his mind, saying, 'No, no, at ease, I have a better idea.' He picked up one of the short fat syringes he had been using to fill the casings a moment ago and waited, saying again.
'Get to it, cut off his arms and legs as instructed.' The two men bearing hatchets approached Harry, who, wide eyed, started screaming again. One leg was deftly severed. Harry's screams now sounded different because he was experiencing the pain, not just fearing it. The Enchanter noted these details as he leant over and emptied the contents of the syringe into Harry's mouth. The tone of the screaming changed again, gurgling, turning to a growl, as the gel took effect.
Fascinated, the Enchanter watched briefly, as Harry's mouth and jaw began flopping about as they changed consistency, before he turned and walked back over to the open casing.
After the other limbs were severed. The serve-ants swapped hatchets for limbs, carrying the dripping flesh to the Enchanter who gently placed the legs into the farthest left two sections of the casing, closing them. He then gently placed the arms into the farthest right two sections, closing them also. 'Quickly, bring the rest of it!' He said. 'We do not have long before it bleeds to death.'
The three men carried the shuddering mess that was Harry over to the casing. It was obvious where he had to be placed now, the central casing was clearly designed for a torso, head and stumps. 'Lay it in, lay it in! But gently, be careful do not let the gel touch your skin, and wash it quickly if it does.' Said the Enchanter, excitement and impatience driving his clipped words.
When Harry was in place. The casings over his stumps were closed and sealed, as were the ones for his torso, then very slowly the Enchanter closed the casing over Harry's head, his vertebra made clear, sharp clicking sounds as his neck was slowly stretched and pushed backwards unnaturally far.
The Enchanter peered into the eye slot. 'Good, good.' he said relieved he had not broken Harry's neck, happy to see his eyes flicking wildly from side to side.
The Enchanter's eyes scanned the casings, admiring his design, nothing much of Harry could now be seen, eyes were visible through slits in the head-casing and there was also a slit at the base of the torso-casing, this allowed for all bodily functions.
The Enchanter was a little disappointed that there was no way around these unavoidable weak-spots. He knew that without continually investing a lot of healing magic into the casings, or compromising the self-sufficiency, effectiveness and health of the animals, the design was at its optimum.
He hoped the animals which would be inhabiting the casings would come to appreciate his design. He chuckled to himself, wondering if the male animals particularly, would be fully functional, and if they would still want to be. Time will tell, the Enchanter sighed.
Harry was encased. He was clearly still alive because the casings were weakly thrashing about and some muffled sounds were coming from where his head was.
'Time for dinner. We will leave Harry for a few hours while he settles in to his new home.' The Enchanter chuckled at his own quip.
The Enchanter had no sympathy for Harry. Before he had found him, Harry had been a ruthless, savage, paid assassin who quite happily tortured and murdered young innocents for fun between jobs, just to keep in practice.
Being an honest, guild assassin was one thing, but an honour-less sadistic one was just not acceptable. Harry had thus created his own fate. He had become corrupt, dishonest and evil, just the type of man The Free Enchanter needed.
The Enchanter walked over to his private washbasin. The water continually flowed in and away, there was a small gate to block the flow, collecting water in the basin if need be. He was always proud of his innovations. He very carefully washed his face and hands in the cold water.
The water came from a small rivulet he had created, one of many, an offshoot of the underground stream he had redirected to pass down conduits to be utilised throughout his home and down further levels to run finally through the animal pen.
The simplest ideas were often the best.
The stream entered the animal pen at the higher end, half way up the back wall. It spilled into a large basin which overflowed into a channel running to the front of the pen and then along the three hundred yards at floor level, to the other end, where it flowed down through a hole and carried on eventually to where nature intended.
When the Enchanter finally decided his hands were clean enough, he wandered up through his gently sloping work cavern.
He walked slowly past the animal pen, which was simply a huge area of cavern separated off by iron bars. The bars stretched the length of the cavern, and from floor to ceiling. The pen was one-hundred-fifty yards deep and three-hundred yards wide. It reached up to the roof of the cavern one-hundred yards above him.
The Enchanter paused to look at the hum-ant animals within. Some meandered around the pen, looking to vent their frustration and rage on other prisoners, but most were hunkered for one reason or another, in the hundreds of deep, dark alcoves dug into the back wall. Each was accessed via the shelflike walkways of rock running along the front of them. There were stairways at either end of the pen climbing up to the walkways on the different levels.
There was always a lot going on in the pen. It could be quite stimulating to spend time in his big comfortable chair opposite, watching.
The Enchanter spent a few hours a day, doing just that. His chair was plush and comfortable, his serve-ants saw to his every need. He was entertained.
The pen held close to a thousand hum-ant animals. He had spent many hundreds of years, seeking out these very special specimens of humanity.
Some of them had been born here, although very few of the young animals survived into adulthood for one reason or another. He did not care about these fatalities, those few that survived were just what he needed- brutal, insane and savage.
The Enchanter looked to see who he recognised. He liked to see the ever changing dynamic in the pen.
Some of the prisoners had been here centuries, he had tweaked their amulets on arrival, to ensure their great longevity, necessary- because truly evil people were a very, very rare commodity.
He required twisted, soul-less, empathy-free, sadistic people, that hated humanity with a vengeance. These people were what he had so painstakingly sought out and collected from all over the known world and brought them here. His quest for them had been, and still was, a very amusing pastime.
Gazing into the pen, he saw a cacophony of action and, as usual, heard many shouts and screams, he focused in on one of the louder sources of screaming, a woman giving birth, boring. He focused in on another screaming woman, who obviously unwilling, was 'entertaining' a group men in an upper alcove. It was Mirgel. Interesting.
The Enchanter had known that woman in a few ways. He had picked up the evil aura emanating from her when they had randomly stayed at the same inn for a night. He had then followed and observed her through a few towns, amused at her antics.
