Vigor Mortis

“Hold up,” I murmur.

The team immediately halts, letting me get a better feel for whatever danced at the edge of my perceptions. The soul is small, brown like mud, and sounds like a single note of a song. Beautiful on its own, yet part of a greater whole incomprehensible from just this single piece. That’s certainly striking, but what really caught my attention is the soul’s location.

“I sense movement underground,” I report. “Right direction, about the right strength. Might be the first sign of the target.”

Silent grins of relief spread over the team, partly because that’s much better news than why I usually tell them to hold up and mainly because we all wanted to get this hunt over with. Coming close to disaster had sobered us a lot yesterday, and a bit of extra stress is now floating around the team from Penelope’s extra batch of coldness. She hasn’t healed the hand-shaped welt on my face, though to my amusement its presence mostly seems to get other teammates to ask her embarrassing questions. I’m not exactly sure what’s being asked, but I can’t say I don’t enjoy the spurts of petty revenge as she sputters indignant responses. Her face gets redder than my cheek when she’s worked up, and it amuses me greatly.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been so flippant with her. Can’t spell “sass” without “ass,” after all. Still, none of it is something she should have hit me over! Especially not now. The middle of the mission is a bad time to confront people about deadly secrets, and a worse time to smack teammates!

Whatever. The end is in sight, hopefully. As we resume moving forward, I feel more and more of the muddy song-souls, each becoming more beautiful the more of them there are. It’s certainly a colony of something that digs tunnels, and it’s close to where the target is supposed to be.

For the next phase of the plan, we need to circle around the outside of their tunnel network, figuring out exactly how big it is and guessing how many there are. Then, we find an opening and use a combination of Penelope’s sickness-voodoo and Orville’s wind magic to push a deadly infection down the burrows.

It’s a simple enough plan in concept, but brutally slow going in practice. Circling around the Burrow Hound’s territory— or what I assume is the Burrow Hounds’s territory, for all I knew this could still be something totally different— took upwards of three hours. Then it’s slow, careful, silent progress over the outer tunnels of the territory, pressing forwards. If I feel them encroaching on the team, we would have to bolt. There are, thankfully, other monsters wandering around on the surface above the tunnels, so it should be safe to risk the same.

I can’t feel the tunnels themselves, but the closer we get to the center of the territory, the deeper I feel more of the souls. There’s an odd quirk to some of them; a blackish, sticky soul is layered onto many of the creatures as they move, wedged right next to the normal soul. Maybe they’re pregnant, or have some kind of parasite. What makes it so odd is that parasites tend to have very tiny souls; often too small for me to detect while inside a far larger body with a far larger soul next to them. The dark, sticky souls are about the same size as the main one, though. I have no idea what that could mean.

Not a huge deal, I suppose. Either way, we’re here to kill them. Eventually, I feel it: a spot where the souls move from above the ground to below and vice-versa. With a vantage point, I spot them: the Burrow Hounds, like large moles with wide noses, they snuffled around on four legs, drooling wherever they walked.

“Contact,” I whisper. “Burrow Hounds confirmed.”

Only about six of them are around this opening. There’s a clearing around the hole where trees are uprooted by the hounds’s rampant digging. Time to clear the area so the mages can work.

"Just six," I murmur to the team, trading my vantage point with Orville. "Four in sprinting distance above ground, two in the burrow."

"Sounds like we're up, then," Norah responds, readying her shield. "I'll draw the two in the burrow out and run back to you. These guys are weaker than the little disciples, right Vita?"

"Way weaker," I confirm. "Like maybe half an orphan each. Probably not smart enough to grab at your helmet."

“Half an orphan…?” Orville murmurs from above.

"So I'm with you, Vita?" Bently asks hesitantly.

"Yes," I confirm. "Stay hidden until Norah brings them over. We don't want any heading back to the burrow, we want this one open and safe for us to drop death down."

He nods, a bit less of his fire than usual. I suppose even he must be worn out for the trip. That or maybe he’s embarrassed by his showing in the Little Disciple fight. Small, weak enemies were not his forte, and this would be more of the same.

Small, weak enemies were my forte, though.

That said, I don’t want to over-rely on my soul-sucking. Getting close enough to monsters to touch them is a dumb idea when I have a spear. Of course, letting monsters eat me when I can murder them with a touch is also dumb, but not giving them a chance to eat me in the first place seems ideal. I’m sticking with the spear.

Norah's lure works (no surprise considering how huge and loud she is) and the two hounds rush over to where we hide in the brush. A quick stab from me, a wide swing from Bently, and they go down. No sweat. Shortly after, the four others rush in, but Norah successfully holds their attention long enough to give our team more clean kills. These things are weak!

Not that it stops my heart from nearly hammering out of my chest. Weak they may be, but my best guess on how many were below our feet? Thousands, easily. No wonder the hunter's guild sent our team to bio-bomb them. What else would even work? I pocket the souls and move up.

As a unit, the whole team approaches the burrow. I hand Penelope a Burrow Hound corpse and she sets to examining it as Orville begins to cast a massive, complicated spell. I sure hope this will all work, or the last two and a half days have been a big waste of time. ...Well, a waste of time for everyone that doesn’t get to eat a huge store of delicious, delectable souls. I wanted to devour them all so badly...!

Now is not the time for that, however. Now, I focus. The Burrow Hounds aren’t happy at all about our crew camping one of the holes to their home, but ultimately it’s only a single hole. They do not, cannot understand the threat our team poses to them, and they’re far from the most aggressive species in the forest. For now, they seem content to leave us alone… though agitation is building on all sides. After an excruciatingly stressful ten minutes, Orville and Penelope are ready.

The air moves through the forest, Orville's magic pressing the atmosphere like a vice. Air flows quickly down into the burrow as Penelope focuses on her own spell, the wind carrying her deadly plague down, down, down into the tunnels. The rush of air makes the Burrow Hounds on edge, but it isn’t until they start to die in droves that the colony begins to panic.

"We've got a reaction, guys," I murmur. "They're moving."

The team nods but there's not much more to say. A few of the two-souled hounds die, but the sticky soul that had been on them doesn’t. The black souls abandon the dead hounds, moving quickly by themselves to a living one. What were those things? They felt just as big as the hounds, soul-wise, but the hounds weren't attacking them.

Before I can think about it any further, however, something big moves in my senses from deep underground. It feels like the Burrow Hounds, all muddy and musical, but it’s absolutely massive, many dozens of times larger in soul than any of its fellows. It has multiple sticky-souls attached to it, and the damn thing is plowing through dirt like water, headed straight up.

"Big one! Big one incoming to the surface!" I warn.

I do a quick judge of its soul size compared to the team’s... and yeah, no, no way, no how.

"Retreat!" I call. "If it comes, we can't take it!"

"Belay that for a moment," Remus says, stepping forward. "Report on the primary objective, Vita."

"Over a hundred dead and rising, sir! I estimate well over a thousand in the burrows."

"Penelope?" Remus asks.

"Not enough!" she answers. "I need twice as many infected before I'm confident it will kill the colony."

"Retreating is the correct call," Remus says. "But I want this colony dead. This will not be marked negatively on your review."

He steps forward, and for the first time ever I see him draw his blade. A simple, two-handed longsword, its hilt and pommel carved of the same blue scale-like material as his armor. Yet the blade...

It gleams in the daylight, incredibly intricate patterns carved along the blade. Cold, dense, and sharp, there’s a force to it that other weapons simply did not have. I’m no learned mage, and I cannot see nor feel the intricate flows of magic. Yet the pressure around the gleaming metal weighs on me as it gathers and readies power like a man would draw and expel breath.

The blade is metal. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.

A hundred yards in front of us, the ground erupted in an explosion of dirt and fury. The massive Burrow Hound is more than just an upscaled mole; its long fur is stiff like spikes, the drool from its slobbering mouth hisses on the dirt below. It is a beast of muscle and death. Screeching in fury, the monstrosity charges at our group, Remus in front. Dozens, maybe hundreds of its kin burst up the tunnel after it, rushing after their leader as they emerged in a tide of death.

"Orville. Penelope. Keep focusing on the burrows," Remus orders. "Your job is to make sure not enough of them retreat to be a threat later. Vita, Bently, Norah..."

He swings the blade so fast, I never even see it. He simply held the sword in one stance, then in another, like a painting of before and after the swing with no interim. A blast of pressure crashes in my ears, and a majority of the Burrow Hounds charging us were dead. Only the ones directly behind the biggest hound live, the insanely massive dog-mole having taken the attack with only a gash to its face. It charges forward nonetheless, unslowed and undiscouraged.

"...Do what you can," Remus finishes, moving forward to intercept.

It’s clear, however, that there is nothing our team can do but watch in horror as Remus effortlessly carves through the rest of the above-ground hounds. He wades into them like I might wade through the sewer, counting them as nothing more dangerous than shit. Even the massive hound proves unable to tank his blade up close. The survivors break after the larger hound dies, Remus cutting them down anyway. We do nothing but stand and gawk.

Remus is the man with the strongest soul I have ever felt. Yet I never realized how wide that gap had truly been until this moment. The only thing that catches my mind beyond his overwhelming display are the sticky-souled creatures inside the largest hound. Most of them died when Remus nearly cleaved the beast in two, but a few of them remain alive. Remus, however, neither notices or cares, starting to make his way back to our team.

"What the fucking hell did he even need us for???" Norah hisses. "Is that even a human?"

"To kill the ones that retreat in the burrows, as I said," Remus calls back, flicking blood off his blade from half a field away. "And yes, I'm human. I'm a decent warrior, but I can't dig."

Carefully, gently, he takes a cloth and wipes the sword clean, sheathing it once more as he makes it back to the rest of us.

"Have you finished the dispersal, Penelope?" he asks.

She glances at me, eyes wide with the implied question.

"Um... w-we're still shy of t-two hundred deaths u-underground, I think," I manage to stammer out. "P-probably just another m-minute or two?"

He nods, seeming content.

"There's some survivors still, over there," I tell Remus. "They're inside the big hound's body, but they're not hounds."

He frowns.

"Really? How strong are they?"

"Not very," I say. "About as strong as one of the normal Burrow Hounds. There was a really big one, but you killed it. The survivors feel like they're inside the cor... hmm. No, they're moving."

I feel the souls start to spread out in every direction, as if fleeing blindly. I squint, but I see nothing. Remus stares as well, but seems to be having the same problem.

"Are there any coming this way?"

"Not directly," I answer.

"Well, keep tabs on them. I don't know what they could be, but obviously you should assume they're dangerous until we do. You're certain they're not baby Burrow Hounds? That might have been a queen."

"I can't say I'm sure, but they feel totally different to Burrow Hounds."

"Hrm. Whatever they are, they must be very small. I do not even see the grass moving. Come with me, we'll investigate. Take me to the closest one."

I nod and do as I’m told, leaving the team to finish the mission as I lead Remus into the path of one of the few that’s fleeing kind of in our direction. As it gets closer I point at where I feel it, and Remus strikes out with a kick in that direction. I almost, maybe see something... a flicker, a bit of movement, but whatever it is launches itself at Remus! He seems to see something then, punching at the air. I hear a wet slap, and whatever it is simply dies.

"Hmm," Remus murmurs, taking a look at his gauntlet.

I peek as well, seeing almost nothing. Just barely, I notice a thin, translucent ooze smeared over it. Weird.

"...Any idea what that was, sir?" I ask.

"Just some parasitic slime, I suspect," he answers. "There are dozens, if not hundreds of kinds. Being camouflaged when outside a body is new to me, though. You said there was more than one in the large beast?"

"Yeah," I confirm.

"Then they're probably not deadly, at least. That beast wasn't fighting like something sick. Penelope should be able to deal with them if one gets inside a person."

I nod, following him back to the group. I make an excuse about procuring rations and head into Remus’s murder-zone, collecting souls before Penelope finishes her genocide. Then it’s time to start the return trip, which is unlikely to be any less deadly. At least the end is in sight. A few hours later, we make camp well away from the corpse-filled burrows and the scavengers that were no doubt already feasting on the aftermath of Remus's passing. Finally, I had somewhere relatively safe.

I want to talk with the team, but even more than that I want them all to be asleep. I nabbed an absurd number of souls, including that of the ridiculously huge Burrow Hound. Its soul is even bigger than mine, yet it still fits nicely inside my body. I can barely wait to eat it! Eating all these Burrow Hound souls would be a near-literal symphony of flavor! Aaaah, they felt so wonderful just to have bumping around inside me! I couldn't help but squirm around a bit, I’m just so excited.

Still, I can’t fantasize about meals too much or I’ll go crazy. Everyone is still awake, so I should probably stop squealing to myself in excitement during a pretend bathroom break and actually go talk to people. I begrudgingly return to camp, heading over to Remus.

"I’m curious, has this been an example of a normal mission?" I ask. "You know, so far."

"No, not at all," Remus answers. "I have to step in to save most teams on their first mission. Your extreme paranoia serves your team well, Vita. Though on a normal mission, you wouldn't have me at all, and you would have failed when the deviant Burrow Hound emerged to chase you off. You may have even died when it either caught you or forced you into a worse situation in your haste."

"You said I made the right call, though," I press.

"You did," Remus said. "Retreat was the right call, your team could not have fought that monster. Yet sometimes you make all the right calls and people still die. Usually less than when you make the wrong calls, though, so keep up the slow-but-steady approach on our way back. It has been working."

I nod, grabbing and munching on some Burrow Hound meat that I acquired from the slaughter-pile. I had actually been going to collect food; souls being part of that food is entirely incidental. Apparently, my completely undiscerning appetite is starting to become infamous among the team, but they're all the crazy ones. We have a biomancer. She can treat meat. Everything we killed is made of meat! Why are they sticking with the packed rations that don’t go bad? Eating something collected in the field instead of the rations is free food!

"Y'know, I've been dying to ask all day," Norah started, a grin on her face. "Vita, what's that hand-shaped mark on your cheek, and why hasn't Penelope healed it?"

I blink. Oh, right. I’d forgotten about that.

"Penelope and I have different senses of humor," I say simply.

"Oh yeah? I've never seen a welt that bad since my brother tried to get handsy with his girlfriend."

"What are you implying?" Penelope fumes, turning on her.

"Just make sure whatever you do to help keep our scout awake all night isn't distracting her, eh P?" Norah answers, her grin approaching dangerous levels.

Penelope makes some furious, incoherent noises which, while amusing, I mostly ignore. I have no idea what Norah is talking about, but something she said stuck out to me.

"I didn't know you have a brother," I say.

Her smile drops.

"Well, I guess I don't anymore," Norah answers.

I take another big bite of meat, chew it for a while, then swallow.

"Oh.”

She chuckles dryly.

"That's it? Just 'oh?' No 'I'm sorry, Norah,' or 'Oh no, what happened?' or anything?"

I shrug.

"People die. Do you wanna talk about it?"

She gives me a long, considering look… then shakes her head.

"...Nah, not really," Norah says. "Not much of a story. I'm not from Skyhope, I lost my village in a monster attack, me and my mom are the only survivors."

I nod, chomping down some more meat.

"That's good," I murmur with my mouth full. "Got your mom. Pretty lucky."

"Lucky?" Norah asked, flashing me another very weird look.

"Well I'm sorry, for what it's worth," Orville says, butting in. "But I suspect Vita probably has us all beat with tragic backstory bingo, so sympathy might be better sought elsewhere."

"Wh— I'm sympathetic!" I protest. "And I don't know what bingo is! I'm just saying, that's pretty good. I'd freak out if Rowan and the kids died, but if I still had Lyn? I probably wouldn't go totally nuts. Probably just kill the people responsible and move on, right? Oh! Is that why you joined the hunter's guild, Norah?"

I nibble a bit more, turning my attention back to food. It’s tasty meat, but I’ve already had a lot and I should finish it slowly. Getting sick before bed would be bad.

"Vita, you really are a creepy kid sometimes, you know that?" Norah eventually responds.

I look up. Everyone is staring at me. A lifetime of instinct activates, and I squeeze the food I’m holding in a deathgrip.

"M'not a kid," I tell them. "...And if any of you want my meat, too late. You turned it down already."

Norah suddenly grins again, glancing at Penelope for a split second before busting out laughing.

"She is a child!" Penelope shrieks, turning tomato-red with fury. "You utterly incorrigible degenerate! This is not funny! You take back your vile implications this instant or so help me—"

Norah only laughs louder, while Orville turns away with embarrassment. Yeah, I’m not getting in the middle of whatever that is. I finish my meal and head to sleep.

---------

A couple hours after nightfall, an oddly-reserved Bently wakes me up with a tap on my shoulder. I thank him and stretch, feeling around with my soul-sense for anything noteworthy. Hmm, there were some nearby souls I didn't recognize. Oh! They were those black sticky ones, the slime things! They're really nearby. I should deal with that. Blinking a bit of clarity back into my senses, I find them both quite easily. A chill settles through my features, waking me instantly.

They were inside Penelope and Remus.