The Albino

Yilarran stomped along beside Vilora’s wagon, but her attention was elsewhere. The “not H’mure” had insisted on talking out in front of the Caravan. The “human” seemed off, not asking Vilora’s permission. Rather, he simply walked past her and unslung his strange weapon. Vilora only sighed and commanded the wagons forward. The Floxorin were incredible beasts of burden, but they were slow enough for a fit being to keep up on their feet. This Benjamin seemed to be on a razor’s edge, but his attention was surprisingly not directed at her. For the first time since their journey began, Benjamin seemed to ignore her entirely. Yilarran glanced back at the wagon behind, guided by Jukha. Normally, she would scoff at Benjamin’s abandonment of his women, but the new leather belt wrapped around Violas was adorned with a new and strange-looking weapon. Having seen them practice with the “muskets” and “pistols” in the training arena, Yilarran had no doubt that she had no chance of success against those two… not at this range at any rate. Again, Yilarran quietly kicked herself for ever having accepted those three into her good graces.

Her personal feelings and opinions were of little matter. She was sworn to Queen Victoria. Her Oath bound her to the will of the Queen Mother, and that put the iron blood and his bitches off limits to her, for now. She turned back to regard this… “human”, and simply decided to placate his need to be at the head of the group until evening fell. The tense dinner and evening conversations, or lack thereof, continued to exist as the standard for overnight camp. The “Human” and his Aereesen kept to themselves, save for Jukha and tonight, Vilora. Yilarran chose the company of the lancers, the women she trained, often from childhood. Tonight’s meal was slowly cooking over the fire. It was to be a pot of roasted meat with various vegetables stewed in the fat for flavor. One of the Aereesen emerged from their wagon carrying a leather satchel and from it, a few vials of various powders and herbs that Benjamin sprinkled into their food before stirring it and letting it simmer.

Benjamin had fashioned his own cooking wear and insisted on cooking his own food portions. “I wonder what sorcery he puts in that.” The voice of one of the lancers, Vurmirin, whispered into Yilarran’s ear. “It has to be how he binds them to himself.” Yilarran huffed a scoff, “Unfortunately, whatever he is, that part of his story appears true. Jukha and Vilora, I trust; and they witnessed his interactions with those… two. I suspect far worse has happened,”

Vurmirin raised an eyebrow, “What could be worse than addicted servitude?” Yilarran pointed to Valtrya, who was currently curled up in Benjamin’s lap, being gently cradled in a way no slave holder would ever dare treat a servant, “Love… Those Women are truly his in a way far more dangerous than mere master and chattel… If they were slaves, we could begin a wedge between them, and promise freedom.. The problem is.. they already believe themselves free, and that buys him their loyalty.”

Vurmirin looked over at the four, raising an eyebrow as Benjamin began serving not only Jukha and Vilora, but also Valtrya and Viola. Watching a supposed “owner” serve his property brought home its own terrifying confirmation. “Do you think they’ve…” Yilarran shook her head, “I have no idea, but if they have…” The titan of an Elf let the sentence die in her throat, taking the generous portion of her own stew handed her. She watched as a surprised gasp escaped everyone in the wayward group apart from Benjamin, who only laughed at the other three who began positively devouring their own portions. Yilarran ate as she continued to watch, and noticed that same razor's edge resurfaced after only a few moments. It was as if Medina’s Pass was spooking the iron blood, and the mountain of an Elf smiled inwardly as she hoped that maybe the Queen’s recounting of its creation had awakened some fear in him. ‘Good, at least I won’t have to hear them again tonight.’

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The new advent of Benjamin leading from the front became the norm as the caravan traversed the long artificial gouge through the heart of the western range. They were deep inside the Feral Wood still, but fewer of its beasts called the Pass home. It was never discovered why, but it made the pass simpler to traverse. There were always stories, of course, and many claimed that wildly mutilated monstrosities roamed the pass. Yilarran never paid those stories any mind, as the truth of them would also mean the teller could never have survived to spin the fantastical tale in the first place.

Days turned into weeks, Benjamin ever at the front. Vilora never stopped him, even conceding to his request a few times. He had stopped the Caravan a total of 4 times and requested that they take a different route. There was no established second route, but the iron blood had insisted. So far, each excursion found the caravan hacking through the forest for days before returning to the wagon trail. The extension to their travel time was… significant. The grade finally leveled out from its slow climb, signaling the end of the pass. They had about a week left of their travel before they would depart Medina’s Pass and turn north for the Ascendency, unless…

Benjamin held up his hand in a fist and the convoy halted. Yilarran let out an open exasperated sigh, “How much longer must we humor these detours.” Benjamin ignored her, but the Elf raised an eyebrow as the iron blood very slowly raised his strange weapon and began backing up in singular crouched steps. He made it three steps before a blur flashed out of the shrubbery in front of them. Benjamin dove to his left and one of the Floxorin bawled in pain, a three-pronged spear protruding from its chest. Its amber-colored blood poured from the wound and the beast stumbled and fell to the ground, puking up its life’s fluid through ruptured lungs.

Benjamin stood and sprinted back to the lead wagon. “Rally!” Vilora’s voice cut the air as Yilarran, the lancers, and the Aereesen girls joined Benjamin who was kneeling with his rifle pointed at the bush the spear had sailed from. Yilarran was about to call a challenge when a blood-curdling sick laugh reached their ears. It began as a trickle that burbled into a sick river of sadistic amusement. 4 gigantic creatures limped out of the foliage. The beasts would have passed for wolves on earth, but Benjamin was focused on the fact these monstrosities were almost 6 feet tall, and that their mouths split into four serrated beaklike segments, at least two of them appeared to be missing at least one part of their mouths, and thick black ickor oozed from wounds on all of them.

“I had to see… Gods, I had to see…” The sick laugh wheezed, and a tall thin bipedal figure slinked out from the forest to take its place behind these sickly abominations. “It’s true… I thought I was alone…. But it is true!! Brother!!” The sickly being pulled apart its long dirty hair to reveal bloodshot red eyes as he pointed at Benjamin. Yilarran glanced down at the iron blood, seeing that the spear had grazed his neck before impaling the Floxorin. Red flowed down the side of his throat, but it appeared but superficial. “Brother!” the crazed red-eyed being cried out again, his voice faltering in confusion.

“Who the fuck are you!” Benjamin called out, “You’re no brother of mine!”. The Being in front flashed a set of fangs, dripping with silver, “You have forgotten? You still have your whores! You must know!!” Benjamin’s finger pulled the trigger on his rifle and a sharp crack echoed through the Pass. To Yilarran’s surprise, there was no billowing acrid cloud of smoke. “Shit” Benjamin swore, and Yilarran looked back to find a new wound in the side of one of the decrepit monstrosities. The sickly beaked wolf had stepped in front of its master, deflecting the round slightly with its body as the 30 caliber projectile tumbled through the beast before exiting. A surprised grunt exploded from what Benjamin could only assume was the first H’mure he had ever laid eyes on as a shower of gore and gristle pelted the man. Black ickor sprayed from the wound but the beast did not so much as flinch, and it was Yilarran’s turn to swear, “He’s a fucking Necromancer!!” she bellowed, and the H’mure wiped his face, no longer laughing. His voice dripped with evil promise, “You have forgotten, brother.. do not fear, I shall remind you.” With that, all four beasts attacked as one.

‘The fuck! Zombie wolf things!! H’mure! Was this…’ he had to stop thinking as his hands moved on their own. A fresh round slammed into the chamber of his rifle. He ran out of time. firing from the hip at the nearest beast. The round missed its body, but the quad beak wolf thing stumbled as he disintegrated one of the elbows of its front appendage. The monstrosity tipped as the limb failed, sliding across the ground just for a Yilarran to land next to it and decapitate it with the swing of one of her titanic blades. “DON’T JUST STAND THERE! You must sever the spine!! But beware the head, it can still bite even after removal!!” Benjamin cycled the bolt on his rifle again, and he watched as Viola lunged at the beast to her left, aiding lancers by slashing at tendons and joints with her rapier. She knew her blade could not decapitate something of this size, so she focused on disabling the undead monsters instead. Benjamin quickly realized that his rifle alone was going to be cumbersome in this style of battle, and he reached for his waistbelt, drawing a blade he had only just finished before departing. It was akin to his bowie knife, but the blade measured over a foot long, and it’s handle bore a lug for a pommel, and a loop for a crossguard.

Benjamin slipped the blade’s fittings over the barrel of his rifle, clicking it into place. He then stood, and charged the beast that Viola was currently attacking. He could feel Valtrya on his heels as he raised his rifle for a quick shot through the shoulders of the beast, shattering it’s shoulder blade to further weaken its mobility before a thought hit him. ‘zombie wolf’ Benjamin shifted his charge, racking his rifle once again before sliding to one knee directly in front of the creature. It swung its massive head to meet him just as Benjamin jammed the bayonet into the snout of the beast and pulled the trigger. A 30-caliber rifle bullet impacted its forehead from under a foot, shattering the rot-weakened bone and pulping the creature's brain. The exhaust gasses from the rifle forced their way into the further weakened cavity, blowing the top of the undead wolve’s head off all together. A strangled gurgle was all the beast managed, crumpling to the ground, but Benjamin’s heart froze as he heard a familiar yelp of exertion. He spun just in time to see the third wolf-creature swipe at Valtrya’s shield. She took the blow but managed to slide backward instead of tumble. The beast redoubled its attacks, and Val quickly dodged out of the way. She had recovered well, but her stamina was still lacking. He could see her heaving for air already. Benjamin began a sprint for her, but was passed by a much faster Viola who surged ahead slashing at the ankles of Val’s attacker.

The beast stumbled, but continued to fight… right up until Valtrya drove her tool steel grade speartip straight through the top plate of the monstrosity’s mouth and into its brain. She twisted the shaft and withdrew it as the beast fell. Benjamin just nodded and began charging for the last beast, trailing slightly behind Vi and Val. He was almost to the monster just as a sickly arm appeared in front of him. Benjamin couldn’t react in time, close-lining himself on the arm that appeared from nowhere. He fell to the ground hard enough to drive the wind from his lungs, groaning as his body fought for air. “Ben!” he could hear Viola screaming as she skidded in place, fighting inertia to reverse directions back to him, but her image was replaced by that of a putridly smelling, ickor covered H’mure as the man straddled him.

“Remember brother, I will show you.” Was all he said before opening his mouth. Benjamin realized that the H’mure’s fangs were not retractable just before the being fell upon him, driving them into Benjamin’s throat. “Remember brother… Reme…” The being withdrew his mouth and sat over him in confusion, tasting Benjamins blood. “You’re not…” He never got to finish the statement.

Benjamin’s whole body roared, he waited for the madness, the searing pain, the explosive blood pressure, but it never came. Time seemed to slow as he threw his arm up, capturing the H’mure by the throat and ripping him bodily off of him. The maniacal being sailed through the air and slammed into the ground, only to get up in confusion, “You’re not!!” He repeated fervently, wiping the blood from his face. Benjamin saw all of this in super slow motion. He rose from his feet, drawing both his saber and his revolver. His rifle forgotten, Benjamin roared a challenge, and stormed toward the H’mure who pulled a rough iron blade straight form the earth. Benjamin reached his measure, and the H’mure swung in a wild diagonal stroke. Benjamin slipped to the side with a quick parry of his saber, squeezing the trigger on his pistol twice. Both rounds hit, and the H’mure growled in pain before driving another wild swing toward Benjamin’s head. He deflected the blade again, letting the rough iron weapon slide down to the crossguard of his saber before binding it entirely using a small hook he had build into the hilt. He easily overpowered the H’mure’s grip, dragging the weapon aside and firing three more shots from his pistol directly into the chest of his opponent before stepping back. The H’mure struggled to stay on his feet, dark red flowing from his chest, mouth and nose, “How… you… bleed *cough* iron.”.

Benjamin channeled just enough majik to set his green eyes aglow and placed the barrel of his pistol against the being's head. “I’m not your brother.” He growled and squeezed the trigger.

The last pistol bullet left a slightly less than half-inch entrance in the forehead of the confused H’mure, driving any thoughts he had on the subject out the back of his skull through a 6-inch wide gaping hole. The instant his pistol went off, the final undead creature crumpled to the ground, its strings cut as its creator was erased from the tomes of the living. Benjamin could only stare at his pistol, shaking less than subtly in his hand. It had taken the entire cylinder to kill the Necromancer, but Benjamin had no recognition of that fact. His whole body hummed and vibrated with what he could only describe as an insane adrenaline surge that was quickly turning into a massive adrenaline dump.. “Benjamin?” Ben turned to see Vilora hovering near him but still a safe distance. “Benjamin, are you whole” Benjamin slowly looked down at his blade, then his gore-covered pistol, shakily placing the handgun back into its holster before failing to do so with his saber, finally loosing his grip on it with a clatter. “Im… I.. I donno… I feel… strange.” With that, Benjamin passed out.

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Viola and Valtrya had been told to not approach their Ben while he was fighting the H’mure, and they knew why. A being bitten by one of those monsters became an indiscriminate berserker at best, and a stark raving mad murdered soul at worst. The H’mure bite was a burning torture to most beings who had no hope of survival… and then Benjamin passed out… snoring softly. The collapse shook Vi and Val from their positions, rushing over to his as Vilora looked over him. “Get him to the caravan, we must leave this place. The sisters hefted Benjamin up, dragging him to their wagon with some effort before barely managing to get him inside. Moments later Vilora fluttered in with Benjamins Saber. Jukha departed to replace the dead Floxorin with one of the spares from the rear of the train.

Valtrya drew her dagger as Yilarran appeared at the wagon's rear entrance, but Vilora put a hand on her shoulder, “Peace, remember you are under my sister's protection. Let me look at him.” Val only sheathed her dagger when Yilarran turned her back on the wagon, taking a guarding position until the wagon train was ready to move. Vilora kneeled down next to Benjamin, her wings aglow with green as she looked deep into her friend. Several minutes passed, and barely a breath was taken as Vi and Val waited. Jukha climbed onto the driving bench, giving his bound a pensive glance before the convoy began moving once more. Almost an hour elapsed before Vilora finally drew back from Benjamin and sat against the wall of the wagon, panting heavily. Val was the first to speak, “What happened.. Is Ben…”

Vilora shook her head lazily, “He lives, and he is… unhurt.. I… I don’t understand it… Benjamin shouldn’t be alive. His body is… processing the Venom… He took a massive dose, and his body just…. Used it…” Vilora and Val looked at each other, “Used what?” Benjamin groaned, sitting up and sliding until the wagon was supporting his back, “What happened.”

Vilora looked into his eyes, watching his pupils follow her appropriately, “Benjamin, what do you remember?” Benjamin groaned, “The fucker bit me.. then a… rush… then I passed out, I think.” Vilora’s eyes narrowed, “A… rush?” and Benjamin nodded in confusion... “Yea, like an adrenaline rush... everything slowed down, and it was like I could see time… faster… somehow.” Vilora looked over at the Aereseen girls before speaking aloud, “Yilarran, return to the lead wagon, we are on the move, and I don’t want another ambush. Go!” Yilarran leaned in, to protest, but closed her mouth upon seeing the serious expression upon Vilora’s features. The resounding thumping of Yilarran’s footsteps faded as she departed, and Vilora turned back to Benjamin with a serious expression. “I need you to tell me… everything about this… ‘adreenaleene’.”