TRASH - Act 1: The Spinner

Maddison stirred awake, taking in the sounds around him while trying to keep himself from fully waking up. His hand was still throbbing from Sariel's missed attempt at helping him set up the tent. An iron rod to the back of the knuckles would do that to you, and it was better than his face. But he had learned his lesson to never allow Sariel to wield a metal rod with even the slightest bouncy bend to it. Or at least give her ten feet of space to fool around with it.

He cracked his eyes open when a noise interrupted his thoughts. It was a growl, or maybe... a snort?

He held his breath, and then the sound came again. And again.

Rhythmic, and loud.

His fear melted to disappointment.

Someone outside the tent was snoring up a storm.

Someone who was supposed to be on the first half of watch duty. So neither of them met a horrible fate in the middle of the night.

He sighed and rolled himself out of bed.

Sariel was the loudest noise in the area, drowning out the chirping bugs and any rustling leaves the nighttime breeze managed to coax into a dance. She had found a log to rest her head against, and about an inch thick mat of moss. Aside from that, and the clothes on her back, she was completely exposed to the elements. Maddison swatted away a bitefly, carefully stepping around Sariel to look at the large hourglass clutched in her hand.

All of the enchanted sand had sunk to the bottom, which meant it had at least been an hour since he went to bed.

He carefully pulled it out of her grip, and turned it over, setting it beside the cooled remains of their campfire. He rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the pitch-black fields that were scarcely lit by what little light the stars of the night sky could provide. He stopped his sweep of their surroundings when he reached the edge of the bridge, a single out of place detail grabbing his attention. They almost twinkled from the distance, half a dozen sets of glowing red eyes peering at him from the bridge. The figures they were attached to were emaciated, yet human, groveling on all fours like a pack of hungry dogs. It was likely they had eaten recently, and had enough wits about them to think about how tasty the horse sitting out in the open looked.

Otherwise, they would have attacked without hesitation, and Sariel's lack of diligence would have turned into a real problem.

Maddison sighed, drawing his sword and holding it to the moonlight so it glinted at the pack. The one closest scuttled back, the others following suit as they crawled further down the bridge to search for other snacks. At this point, most ghouls had the instincts of a rancid raccoon. Manageable, but still irritating. Just shy of a decade ago, the undead blight had never bothered traveled roads. In fact, seeing a corpse twitch was so rare people still paid to have them permanently put to rest. But now, dying without a proper burial in this land was practically a guarantee that you would get back up again. Or at least, your decaying body would.

And it was all thanks to one creature. Calling it a witch was the greatest point of contention for Maddison. Witches were humans, humans that used their magic to incite suffering. Witches could be understood, tricked, and culled. The Witch of the Westlock was as much a human as a dragon was a bird. After all, what sort of human could turn an entire city into a cemetery brimming with feral undead, and spread the sickness like a plague at the wave of its hand? A curse so powerful that even breathing the same air as one of its undead meant you would rise again after death, restless and hungry.

Certainly not a human. Certainly not a witch.

The creature was named an Agent of Death, the first of six to rise over the succeeding years.

Six problems that Maddison was happy to spend the rest of his life avoiding. The continent was huge, and the Agents of Death had a particular preference to piss fighting with the Heroes Guild. Any deaths outside of that faction were entirely collateral, or sheer stupidity... or idiots that slept through their watch.

He let out a sigh, quietly sheathing his sword and walking back over to Sariel. With a couple of nudges she blearily opened her eyes, blubbering out gibberish between yawns and stretches. "Is it morning Medila?" She rubbed her eyes, crawling along as Maddison nudged her over to the tent. It wasn't hard to coax her into the shelter, and even less so to hand her off the blanket and pillow. In a matter of minutes she was back to snoring, and it was Maddison's turn to hold watch until morning.

He brushed off the log Sariel had been using as an unsanitary bed, pouring out a few preserved herbs and an empty vial from his bag. If he was going to be awake for who knows how many hours until the sun came back, he'd might as well make some use of the time.

Maddison crunched along, his legs weighed like sandbags from exhaustion. The sun had not taken pity on his extended night shift, and was blaring down on them with scorching rays that made a mirage wherever Maddison looked. Still, he had kept what little cool he could, listening to Sariel's one-sided conversation with Horse, and mostly nodding along to any questions she shot his way. It wasn't until the afternoon peeked around that he got a few rations in him, and worked up the energy to address the elephant in the room. The area wasn't high on the list of dangerous places Maddison had been forced to camp in, but it didn't change the fact that what Sariel had done was dangerous.

He thought it would be a simple conversation.

He thought wrong.

"Turned it over four times I did, then I saw you were still sleepin', and didn't wanna bug ya. Worst thing bout the day is when Medila would shake me awake. I don't like waking up all that much Mr. Maddison, wish I could spring right out o' my bed like those birds there."

"Yeah, well-" He held his tongue from saying 'next time', ending his statement with a sigh. He didn't want to jinx it like that. "Just, if you're ever told to keep watch, make sure someone is there to take over your shift."

"Horse was there."

Maddison went for the easiest path in this fight. "Horse was sleeping."

"Standing up?"

"Standing up. Horses do that."

"Woah..." Sariel eyed Horse with awe, her whole face lighting up with an idea. "You don't suppose I coul-"

"No. You can't."

Sariel frowned, side-eyeing Maddison with disappointment. "Well, you never know till you try."

He pointed to a small snaking trail of smoke, pooling from a few stone huts cresting the hill of grass in front of them. The sight of civilization hadn't stirred so much excitement in him since he was stranded in the Fire Hills for six weeks without proper rations fleeing from the Hero Guard. "The town is there. We're going to walk until we reach it, and not stop. Then I'm getting you a job and we'll be off on our jolly ways, never to meet again." He gave Sariel a warm smile to jog hers back onto her face. "Doesn't that sound great?"

She punched his shoulder. "Awww thanks a million, Mr. Maddison, but I ain't need a job, I got one working for Medila. You're a real sweetheart, you know that?"

He clenched his teeth, shaking his head in disappointment. "I'll get you a temporary job until Medila comes back."

Sariel hummed in deep thought for a moment - as deep as they went at least. Slowly nodding at Madison as she curled her finger around her chin. "Suppose I can get a temporary job."

He stopped their walk, motioning for Sariel to humour his gesture and face him. "Good. So, when you get an interview and they ask for your name what do you say?"

She straightened her back and did a strange salute, "Hullo, I'm Sariel Sariel The Black Witch-"

"No! For Lont's sake, you're not a witch!" Maddison sighed, holding his forehead with a whimpering groan. "Here... I'll role play..."

"Right, sir."

He cleared his throat, drowning his tone in forced excitement. "Hello there! I hear you're looking for a job. What's your name?"

"Sariel Sariel The Black Mr. Maddison, pleasure to meet you sir."

"Good enough. How would your friends describe you?"

"Fat n stupid sir." Sariel smiled at him with a hint of genuine pride. "Sometimes they call me thick too."

Maddison broke character first, pulling his arms up into a fold. "Sariel... you're supposed to make me want to hire you..."

Sariel folded her arms and copied Maddison's teacherly frown. "Well whatchya hiring me for?"

"A job! Just-a... any job. Let's go with a barmaid, you just give people drinks and food, super simple."

She nodded. "Sounds simple..."

"Good. So, what are your two greatest traits?"

"Well, sir, I've got a high liquidity rate."

Maddison dropped his act again, scrunching up his brow in confusion. "A what?"

"I sell like hot buns sir. We get a few soldiers in our village once or twice a season and Medila sells my services like that." She snapped her fingers, smiling as Maddison's expression fell. "They pay with good food too. Like bread! That a good thing?"

Maddison pursed his lips, feeling a sense of disgust on her behalf. Medila sounded like the best candidate for a witch in Sariel's village, not Sariel. At the very least, she was in the category of a vile toad. "Depends on what they did to you..."

"Oh no sir, I'm not allowed to disclose personal services. Part of my contract." She nodded. "Dunno what a liquidity rate is even."

"Then why did you use it to describe yourself?!" Maddison burst. "You can't just throw gibberish out there!"

"Sure can sir. Once told a man he was corealis for some bristle boars and he acted like he knew the word like his little sis... then he tried to play stone the witch with me."

Maddison tripped over a response, taking a few seconds to collect himself, and remember exactly what he was dealing with. He was dealing with Sariel. If there were lines to read between, Sariel would toss them so far a hellhound couldn't even fetch them. "Look... I'll give you some suggestions. How about I'm pretty? Or maybe, I'm really good at adapting to my surroundings."

"You ain't pretty sir, yer handsome. I like to avoid pretty boys, always look like they're plotting. Like that Corian fellow was."

"No! You're pretty." Maddison motioned to her, his smile falling as Sariel's grew.

"Aww! Thank you, Mr. Maddison! You don't gotta lie, it'll just make me feel worse fer not paying you."

"Okay, you know what? When we get to the village, you wait with..." He stared at the brownish horse, moving his hands purposelessly for a couple of seconds. "Horse... and I'll deal with the hiring stuff."

"Right, Mr. Maddison. You lookin' to be a barmaid too?"

He gave up, giving Sariel a dead smile. "You know what? I just might be. And my name isn't Mr. Maddison, you put last names after Mr, not first names."