Armor

Chapter 6: Onward to Cirros

It took almost until morning to get back onto the main roads. A night of sifting through the goblins’ camp had produced a small cart full of loot and a heavy sack of goblin ears to prove our victory. Hrig was pulling the cart behind her, insisting she be the one to do it, I assume because they all believed I was exhausted from my duel. Everyone wore tired expressions as we moved, though Kyren looked to be deep in thought.

"Draconic," she said, unprompted.

"What?" asked Hrig.

"The last word their leader spoke. You told me it sounded like ‘ker’al’fus’, right?"

"That was the gist, yeah. Though Sevald was obviously closer." She gestured at me.

"I was…not really paying attention, to be honest. I was distracted at the time."

I’d heard him perfectly, but draconic was a dead language, and the fact I’d understood it so clearly would create questions. Questions I myself didn’t have an answer to. None of those I’d consumed had ever even heard the language, so the fact that I could understand it proved troubling.

"Well, I’ve heard it once or twice. It’s used in some of the rituals to honor the gods, but only rarely, and only those higher up in some of the more formal gods’ clergy tend to use it. The way it sounds, though, it’s very distinct. I’m certain that’s the language he used."

"Aye, I’ve heard a Kobold or two speak their version of it. It’s as different from draconic as common is from undercommon, but that word does sound a bit like it. How would a goblin have picked up draconic, though?" asked Stone.

"I’m not sure, but I also don’t know how a goblin camp could be that orderly, or how a goblin could farm, or how a goblin could be as large as their leader was. The whole thing was strange."

"‘Was’ is the key word. They’re all dead or routed. It’s no longer a problem," said Hrig.

Kyren sighed. "You’re probably right, but I think I’ll keep fussing over it anyway."

Hrig chuckled. "I’d be worried about the damage that blow to your head did if you didn’t."

Kyren smiled, and we continued down the path in silence for a while. My companions were exhausted, and I was doing my best to look like I was, too. I’d even let them pull me in the cart for the first leg of the journey, which they'd insisted was reasonable after watching me attempt to fight all of those goblins myself. Luckily, they’d only seen the parts of the fight that were possible for a human to survive, rather than the portions in which I’d been firing stakes from my arm, kicking goblins across half the camp, and having my hand perform reconnaissance.

Like Kyren, I had a lot of questions about our experience, how the golden-eyed leader could hurt me foremost. I’d always assumed a particularly powerful blow could damage me, but even his lighter strikes had seemed to cut at my essence.

"You owe me a new axe, Sevald," said Hrig, breaking my reverie.

"I do?" I replied.

"You broke the shaft in two. I’d say that warrants buying me a replacement."

"Come on, Hrig, that doesn’t seem fair. The boy was fighting for his life," said Stone.

"Are you saying that if he’d broken your hammer, you wouldn’t want him to pay for the damages?" asked Hrig.

"That’s completely different! You can’t compare the elegance of my Lagaetha to that ugly thing!"

"You really think your glorified carpenter's tool is elegant?" Hrig's tone was dryer than the dust we kicked up while we walked.

"Why don’t you chop down a tree! That's all a primitive weapon like an axe is good for!"

Their argument, despite how heated it seemed, made me feel like a teapot that just let out all of its steam. Relief, I surmised. We’d had a tough fight, but we were alive and already settling into the easy rhythms I was finding myself growing accustomed to.

* * *

After making camp, the others insisted I not take watch for the night. They seemed adamant, so I didn’t put up a fight. Since I didn’t sleep, I needed to find something to do. Initially, listening to the sounds of the camp at night—bugs skittering, owls hunting, and wind blowing softly through leaves—had been enough to keep me occupied, but I was finding that I needed more stimulation in order to keep myself from getting bored. Instead of observing things happening outside myself, I decided to look within.

The essences I’d eaten were a part of me, their skills, voices, and memories integrated into me the moment I’d consumed them. Some parts of them were easier to access than others. Skills, in particular, became as much mine as they’d been theirs almost instantly. That made sense, based on what my purpose had been. Actual memories and thoughts, however, were another story. They often felt murky and disjointed. I was missing important context for them that only the people who’d made them would have. Only those that were Byn’s felt truly clear and accessible. Being jolted to the forefront by my time in Entden must have made them more my own.

Sevald’s also felt sharper, though still muddled. He’d been my most recent meal, so it made sense that his would be more readily available. He was a third son of five with a relatively good life who had left home to be an adventurer and spread his name in the hopes that it would increase his inheritance. He was, in a lot of ways, simple and thus easy to understand. Byn was similarly simple, just a tanner’s son that wanted to do his part for the village.

The other two were a bit more complex, and I had nothing to anchor myself to when

"He was picking pockets on the way in."

That didn’t surprise me, but what did was that I hadn’t noticed.

"How did Kyren know?" I asked.

"No idea, but she catches him every time and makes him give her some."

"It’s my tithe, Hrig. I’m hoping that by donating some of his ill-gotten gains, I might help him keep in the good graces of the gods," said Kyren.

"I need only stay in Jeiri’s, and I know for a fact he approves of light theft, blackmail, and even the occasional arson as long as I have fun with it," said Stone.

"No god judges souls entirely alone, not even Jeiri. Consider this a bribe to the other gods if that makes you feel better about it," said Kyren.

Stone looked thoughtful for a moment, and a grin spread across his face. "That’s a good way to think of it. You’ve got a real talent for doctrine."

Kyren gave one of her small smiles. "It’s a gift." She turned her attention to me. "Would you like to accompany me to the temple? They have altars to both Dur and Sidi there."

"Sure, I suppose it would only make sense for me to pay respects," I said.

A temple could be interesting. Those I’d eaten had an overall mixed impression of religion. Sevald had feelings somewhere between shame and reverence, Pebble was against it entirely, Byn just worshipped the same way his parents did, and Syven couldn’t care less as long as the gods stayed out of her way. My own feelings were a mix of curiosity and fear. I couldn’t imagine that the gods had much in the way of favor for one such as myself.

"We’ll go ahead and sell the loot from the goblin camp then set up a meeting with Clara at Carp’s Flagon by the docks. We’ll meet you there at sundown," said Stone.

"I’ll keep an eye on his sales and make sure we get our cut, don’t worry," said Hrig.

"Ah!" I pulled a small pouch of gold from my pouch and handed it to her. "For your axe shaft."

"Oh, you don’t actually have to pay for it, Sevald. I know you were only doing what you needed to," said Hrig.

"Well, consider it a gift, then." I didn’t really have as much of a need for gold as my companions, so it made sense to simply give them some when I could.

She took the gold and tied it to her belt. "Well, fine then, but I’ll be buying your drinks later at the Flagon."

"Deal," I said, and she and Stone made their way toward the market with their cart full of goblin ears and loot.