Drowning at Dusk Ch. 03

A flick of Xelari's fingers against the runestone conjured a swarm of spectral blue fireflies, which flitted above our heads and cast a ghostly light through the tunnel. Murmurs of awe rippled from the bandits at the sight of the golden murals on the walls, floors, and ceilings. Intricate art displayed a woman with bright blue hair and massive breasts engaged in all manner of copulation. She laid with wolf-headed men, bright green dryads, giants with cocks that looked big enough to kill her, and in one scene she'd even sprouted a prick of her own, which she used to defile a young woman with luscious black hair.

"Why can't all creepy ruins have art like this?" Gent murmured under his breath.

"Stay focused, friends," I said, my eyes darting between the dark tunnel ahead and the depraved artwork. "Don't want your erection getting too big and bumping into the trigger for a trap, do we?"

Terakh's snarl cut off the resulting chuckles.

"That's Amisra, I assume?" I asked Xelari, glancing at the largest depiction of her yet: the art showed her splayed out on the ceiling. The artist had depicted her pussy with glowing violet paint, which collided with the light from the fireflies and cast a vibrant glow through the corridor.

"Yes. A temple dedicated to lust and love itself. We are in the right place."

The corridor sloped downward and opened into a large chamber, where the artwork took a decidedly different turn. Rather than displaying the goddess engaged in all manner of depraved situations, it instead depicted her upon the ceiling, clad in a shimmering green robe and smiling down. Etched into the floor were hundreds of murals showing couples engaged in wedding ceremonies, holding hands, or clasping at one another while they wept.

"I liked the first set of art better," said a bandit.

I stepped over a mural showing two elven men holding hands beneath a sunrise, then blinked at the sight of something dark and red upon the depiction of a smiling woman in a shimmering white dress. I knelt, pressed my finger to the stain.

"Blood," I announced. "Cold."

Within moments, Terakh huffed in affirmation.

"Aye. More over here, too."

Others confirmed more bloodstains scattered throughout the tavern.

"Brandiir and his disobedient comrades, I assume," Xelari said. "Be watchful for what befell them."

We didn't need to wait long. Gent, the bandit who'd confronted me on the march, wandered over to a large, gold-etched doorway that led deeper into the temple. He cocked his head, then gave a sudden shout. Reeling backwards, he fumbled for his sword.

Something blurred in the doorway. A sickening wet sound followed in the wake of Gent's cry, and a torrent of blood erupted from a wound in the bandit's neck. As Gent toppled to the ground, clasping feebly at his useless weapon, my mind finally processed the creature that killed him.

Judging by its thin, waifish build and the slightly pointed ears, the creature had clearly been an elf once. The left side of its body was immaculate: pale smooth skin, taut muscles, adorned with beautiful tattoos in the shapes of vines and leaves. The right side of its body, however, was a horror of rotting flesh and exposed bone. Beautiful works of art and gruesome depictions of death, all in one.

Ghouls. Corpses cursed with necromantic afflictions, doomed for half of their bodies to rot, and the other half to remain beautiful and perfect, with a foul essence taking hold of their soul and turning the mismatched bodies into slavering, bloodthirsty horrors.

Its eyes-one bright blue, the other rotting yellow-swept over the cavern. The thin lips twisted into a feral grin, exposing a mouth half-filled with fine white teeth, the other half yellowed and jagged. It leapt with inhuman speed, darting from its first victim and colliding with a second bandit.

Terakh bellowed an order for the bandits to form a line. Three turned to run back the way we came, and two more turned to sprint for another tunnel.

Their panicked breaths turned to screams as three ghouls burst from that tunnel, their claws and fangs ripping and slashing. Bodies flopped within growing pools of blood.

Unearthly chittering screams erupted from undead throats as more ghouls slithered and leapt from the two tunnels. The deaths of the bandits gave most of the survivors a semblance of a spine, and they stepped back to fulfill Terakh's orders, forming a loose wall of outstretched spears and blades.

Bows and crossbows thrummed and clicked, sending bolts into the creatures. A bolt punched through the rotted neck of one ghoul, but it merely let out a chittering laugh, blood leaking down its fangs.

"Advice here?" Vlanda bellowed, as I sprinted back to the safety of the group.

"Hit the intact sides!" I shouted to the bandits. "They're weaker on those sides, but they'll fight accordingly."

True to my warning, when the ghouls rushed us, they did so with their rotted sides facing towards us, moving at an awkward sideways sprint.

Xelari's eruption-rune lit up the cavern. The undead flesh nicked by the beam was simply singed, but when the magma flickered over to the untouched, unmarred flesh, it promptly burst into flame. Several ghouls fell, writhing and screaming.

"They hold. We flank," Terakh snarled, clapping a hand to my shoulder, and then to Rodnir's.

A solid tactic. The ghouls would rush with their rotting, stronger flesh against the line, while we found a way to rip at their exposed, unmarred bits.

That was assuming more ghouls weren't on the way to outflank our own flanking maneuver.

One crisis at a time.

We dipped out of the edge of the formation as bandits screamed in pain and terror. Spears nicked undead flesh, doing little of use, but the occasional lucky strike tore into the living flesh and sent black blood spraying onto the ground.

One ghoul, with a spear caught in its rotting ribs, noticed our maneuver. It turned, howled, and then died as Terakh's greatsword cleaved off its head. The undead nature of the right side of its body mattered little beneath that forceful blow.

As it toppled, Rodnir and I rushed past: his axe chopping, my elegant elven blade swinging. Growls and sprays of black blood greeted my wild swings. A severed arm flopped at my feet, cleaved off by Rodnir, and a spear-thrust from the battle-line silenced the wounded ghoul's shrieks.

Another spear came within an inch of my face; snarling, I darted to my left, hacked off a ghoul's leg at the knee, and finished it off with a diagonal slice into the untouched left side of its face.

Ghouls never broke. Why would they? The only thing they had to fear was an empty stomach, and we were a fine feast.

Although they may not have been capable of fleeing in fear, but they could still fucking die. Terakh, Rodnir, and I proved that quite capably.

As we carved through their flanks, the creatures already engaged with the loose line of bandits turned to face us, and in so doing gave the other bandits a chance to dart forward and go for flanking attacks of their own. The line of bandits soon became a disorganized frenzy of slashing blades and jabbing spears. Eager for vengeance for their dead friends, and hungry for the thought of the loot down below, the cutthroats turned into ghouls of a different sort.

The last creature leapt high into the air, only for a small forest of spears to rise and skewer it. Impaled like a pig above a bonfire, it wriggled and writhed for a moment before Vlanda shot a crossbow bolt through its good eye.

It died, a flood of black blood running down the spears that had pinned it.

Some bandits offered cheers. Others cried out for help with their wounds. Some knelt to help, while others ignored the injured and immediately set to looting their dead comrades. Rodnir knelt to inspect one of the dead creatures, and spat in derision upon the corpse.

"If you're going to charge at us like lunatics, at least have the fucking decency to have some silver on you when you do it. These freaks have nothing. Nothing."

"I'm less worried about the loot and more worried about Brandiir and his mates," Vlanda said. "What did these ghouls do with them?"

"Most likely, dragged them off, drained their blood to drink, and ate the rest of them," I said grimly.

"Hope it was quick," muttered another bandit.

I doubted it, given the cruel penchant ghouls had for toying with their food, but I didn't want to cause even more fear or alarm. Instead, I wandered through the chamber, helping wounded bandits get over to Xelari so she could use her healing runes.

"Well fought," Xelari said, running a glowing rune over a deep gash in a bandit's forearm. "You and Terakh both. From enemies to allies in only a few days."

The orc wiped black goo from his blade, and shrugged his massive shoulders.

"She's a good killer. Always knew that. Just wish she'd ended up in our little band under other circumstances."

All told, we'd lost ten bandits to the ghouls. Another six were so badly wounded that the runes weren't able to get them back into fighting shape, so we organized a group of volunteers to take the wounded back topside where Klevek and the others could look after them.

Knowing how loot-hungry those bandits were, however, I wondered if Klevek's group might just knife the wounded and take their silver from their corpses, and claim they'd expired from their wounds.

Just ghouls of a different sort.

"The largest pack of those damned things came from that way," Terakh said, pointing to the larger of the tunnels leading away from that chamber. "Probably where their nest is. Better to avoid that direction, then."

"Not if we want to find the circlet," Xelari said. "Ghouls are a defense mechanism of structures like this. A last resort. A curse placed to protect it. Which means that the more ghouls there are, the more likely there is something of worth."

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," I muttered.

Not trusting the loot-hungry bandits to keep an adequate eye out for another ghoul ambush, I took the lead, with Terakh right behind me. Rodnir followed not far behind, with Xelari in the midst of the bandits who followed. Vlanda took up the rear, humming a marching song under her breath as we moved.

The tunnel widened into a cavern adorned with a stony recreation of the forest above, as if someone had transplanted a section of the Wildwood and turned it to stone. There were even stone birds perched upon the branches, and a squirrel of stone rearing up to leap from one tree to another.

Scattered about on the ground were piles of torn, sundered armor, and dozens of scattered, broken, and gnawed bones.

"Found Brandiir," Rodnir grunted. "Think that's his breastplate right there."

A soft giggle echoed through the forest of stone. We whirled about, weapons at the ready.

Nothing. No ghouls, no creatures lurching from the shadows or dropping down from above.

"Be wary," Xelari said. "Ghouls alone will not defend this place."

"Daft bastards," Vlanda said, gesturing at the piles of bones. "Couldn't have just waited a day for us to arrive. Had to get greedy. Had to get stupid."

True to their profession, several of the bandits paused to loot the grisly piles as we passed them. At the other end of the stone forest was a shorter tunnel, the floor of which had been gouged a bit to allow a small stream to trickle along the floor. Beneath the water glowed countless rubies, emeralds, and sapphires.

With howls of delight, several bandits fell to their knees to claw and scrape at the gems, trying to free them.

"Secure the place first, then loot," Terakh barked. He had to kick one bandit in the back to finally tear her from her crazed attempt to pry loose a ruby. We followed the stream until the tunnel split in three directions.

Another giggle sounded from the centermost tunnel: soft, musical, enticing.

"Trust nothing you see or hear," Xelari said, her voice cold, low, and calm.

"Dryads?" I asked.

"Perhaps. But that means we are close. Such creatures will be drawn like flies to the honey that is the circlet. Guardians. Worshipers."

She led the way, runestone raised.

The central tunnel opened into another chamber holding a stone forest, though the stone in that room was a bright blue. Thick golden sap ran down the trunks of the petrified trees. Tendrils of golden mist spread from the sap, reaching out and coiling around the other trees. Within moments, the entire cavern was filled with that thick, glittering fog.

I held my breath in case it was some sort of toxin, but Xelari seemed to pay it no mind. As I took in a careful breath, I tasted sweet honey on my tongue.

And...something else.

The taste of Xelari herself. Something I keenly remembered from our dalliance the night before.

"Fuck," Terakh grumbled, and I wondered if he was tasting the same thing, or perhaps the taste of another lover.

"Gods above, Voids below," Rodnir cursed.

I glanced over my shoulder but could not see more than a foot or two in front of my face.

"Rodnir?" I called out.

"Lilac," he groaned from the mist. "Amelia always rubbed lilac on her wrists and neck on the nights we snuck away together."

If Rodnir was smelling or tasting his long-lost love, what did they say about the fact that I was tasting Xelari? Did the mists reflect the heart's true desires, or simply the person my body craved the most?

I couldn't help but wonder what Xelari herself was tasting.

A giggle echoed through the mist.

"Bunch up," Terakh snapped. "Grab hold of your mates if you have to."

Rodnir's scarred hand lashed out of the mist and grabbed my shoulder.

"You with me?" I asked, patting his wrist as I felt about in the mist for the others.

"Lilac," he mumbled. "It's getting stronger. The smell. The taste."

"Hey," I snarled, digging my fingers into his wrist, though he simply stared off into the fog. "It's a trick. Stay with me. Amelia's not out there."

He sighed, closed his eyes, and breathed in deep.

"She is."

The bandit shoved me with all his might, and I sprawled back into the fog. I tripped on a petrified root but I managed to shove a hand out to arrest my fall before I completely toppled.

But Rodnir was gone.

I called out his name.

Nothing.

"Terakh? Xelari? Vlanda?"

Nothing.

Only the mist.

Only a giggle in the distance.

And a soft sigh, tickling my ear.

I spun, blade at the ready.

Only the mist.

In my travels I'd faced plenty of undead, demons, and other monsters, but I'd never encountered a dryad or a nymph before. Creatures of the wild, creatures of lust, spirits bound to goddesses of desire and nature. Tricksters, hedonists, devourers of bodies and souls.

A shape materialized in the fog. Hoping I'd manage to stop Rodnir before he wandered into the lustful but deadly clutches of a dryad, I darted forward.

My boots skidded across the ancient stone at the sight before me.

It was Xelari. Confined in the exact same chains she'd used to bind me before Terakh had used me. She was lying on her back, completely nude, her violet-tinged gray skin on display.

Helpless. Ready. Wet.

I shuddered. My rational mind clung to the truth that this was just an illusion, a ploy by some depraved dryad to draw me in.

And yet those thighs...those soft lips...those perfect nipples practically begging to be nibbled upon.

"Nice try," I said with a crooked grin. "But Xelari would never submit like that."

"You're wrong," a voice cooed into my left ear. I flinched, twisted to the side, but saw nothing.

"We see inside her heart," said another voice, that time from my right. "She aches for this. Dreams of this. And she can be yours. This little dream of hers and yours can become your truth."

"And more," said a third voice, which seemed to flow into my ears from all directions. "So much more."

The apparition of Xelari shifted, and now she was dressed in a beautiful gown that matched her bright green eyes, her hands bound behind her back, her mouth open and inviting. Longing burned in those eyes, staring up at me, her mouth moving in silent pleas to taste me.

The mist blurred over the kneeling dusk elf, and then Xelari stood before me wearing nothing but long black boots and gloves, and wielding a nasty-looking whip in her hand.

"Yours," the voices cooed.

"I don't need the dreams. I've tasted her for real."

"Only once," the voices said, shifting to a more somber tone. "And never again. Because she is giving in, you see. She will remain here with us. Adrift in dreams. You can drift, too. Drift."

"Drift," said another voice.

"Drift," said yet another voice, lower and sultrier than the others.

Mist churned around Xelari, and once more she laid on her back, wearing the same chains as I had.

I stepped forward, sword in hand. The apparition writhed, bucking her hips off the floor. The sight ignited a deep ache within me, and very nearly made me collapse to my knees so I could taste between those thighs once again.

Another step.

So close.

Xelari moaned, her eyes fluttering.

"No," I growled, and raised the blade.

Her eyes turned amber. The mist churned around her, the skin shifting and blurring, turning a dark green. Her curvaceous body shrank down to a thin, waifish form. Long, grass-like hair fell in wild curls around the dryad's thin, statuesque face.

She rose up at me, claws of amber emerging from beneath her fingernails.

The blade swung true, cleaving through the outstretched hands. Thick sap sprayed from the wound, and the creature wailed, whirled, and sprinted into the mist.

"Xelari!" I bellowed.

A grunt from Terakh sounded from my left. I turned to see him standing within the fading mist, shaking his head. Thick, sap-like blood dripped from his greatsword.

"Almost got me," I muttered.

"Same," he said.

Screams resounded through the cavern. As the mist receded, a grisly scene unfolded before us: a dozen bandits were dead or dying within the petrified forest. They clutched at grievous wounds to their faces or throats, or stumbled about aimlessly, leaking blood behind them. The unharmed bandits wandered among their comrades, tending to the wounds as best they could with bandages and poultices. I caught sight of Rodnir slumped against a stone trunk, a smile on his face even as he breathed out his last. Blood trickled from a deep wound to his throat.

"Fuck," I hissed, my gaze sweeping across the cave. "Where's Xelari?"

No one answered. Terakh and I broke into a sprint, rushing past the battered and bleeding mercenaries.

We arrived at a corridor etched with silver and gold engravings of beasts frolicking through a verdant forest. From down the hall, I heard a soft cry.

Xelari.

The real one, or another damned trick?

Whatever the source, Terakh and I both sprinted down the passage, weapons at the ready.

Terakh stopped so swiftly that I slammed into his back, and before I could curse him for slowing me down, I gasped in shock at the sight that had stopped him.

At the center of the room was an altar of smooth blue stone. Xelari reclined upon it, the straps of her breastplate undone, her leggings torn to ribbons.

Three dryads had converged on her, one between her legs, and one on either side. The ones beside her on the altar kept her wrists pinned to the stone while their amber-colored tongues licked and teased at her neck. The dryad between her legs fiercely tongued at Xelari's sex. A honey-like scent flooded the cavern.

All we could do was stare. The dryads were beautiful creatures: lean, lithe, completely nude, with skin tones of dark greens and browns. Creatures of the wild, living avatars of the verdant beauty of the forest. The amber eyes of the two suckling on Xelari's neck looked over to us. For her part, Xelari was too busy writhing and moaning to even notice our arrival.