1

Through the thick morass, stalks of overgrown shrooms raise above a thin bloom of brackish liquid. The serene babbling of running water was punctured by footsteps clad in plate and armour, pacing across a ground that held the consistency of wet mashed potatoes.

He held an arm over his eyes, shading them from the afternoon sun as he noted his orientation. Parchment crinkled as the man slipped something out from one of his many belts that crossed over his torso. The leather strips and pouches concealed here and there a breastplate coated in black paint, the dark makeup flaking towards the edges, the coat uneven, like the colouring had been hastily done.

The man unfolded the parchment with a hand gauntleted in armour, his blue eyes scanning over the writing once more. The neat handwriting and astute vocabulary reminded him of a wedding invitation, the endless stretches of swamp a contrast to such a formal proposition.

The man grumbled under his breath as he read over the directions offered, getting the feeling he was lost. He had to give the writer some credit, the offer radiated a certain professionalism his inner academic could respect.

He was just about to double back, when he stopped upon hearing the audible tension of a string notching an arrow.

“Halt! Friend or foe?”

“Right, because if I was your enemy I’d just admit it.”

It was a far cry from the reasonable reaction one would have to a hold-up, but this wasn’t the first time he’d been held at arrow-point. Yet the situation was still worthy of at least one quirked eyebrow as he turned around, the glint of metal catching the light bringing his eyes up to the cap of a nearby shroom.

The head of the arrow was shaped like a half-moon, the clean steel contrasting with the black colour of the rod. The other end was braided with long feathers, clutched in the scaly grip of a four-fingered hand.

The nails were long, black like onyx with razor sharp ends. Calling them claws would be better suited. His gaze trailed up the slim arm – it was covered in crimson scales, their bumpy surface smoothing out as they neared the bicep, disappearing behind an ornate, leather pauldron. The pauldron was connected to a band that covered a pronounced bust before clasping over to the other shoulder, with no pauldron on this one. From the sternum down the body was bare, the red scales taking on a pinkish hue as they travelled down the softer underside, the scaled belly flaring into wide hips that were clad in leather buckles and pads that resembled a ripped sash. Red scales could be seen here and there about the hips, a drab green cloth that covered the front of the belt like a loincloth the only thing that covered their modesty.

Two bent thighs exposed themselves from below the belts, bulging with defined muscles as his sneaky assailant shifted on the spot. They tapered in as they met the knees, giving the bowman a distinct hourglass figure. Calves rippling with muscles lay concealed beneath a paunch layer of scales, the legs ending in raptornoid feet, where three toes extended out of a flat foot, to end in curved talons bigger than his fingers, with a dewclaw a little further up above the heel. Curved round one of its ankles was the end of its thick tail that sprouted from its rear.

A lizard-folk. That explained how it managed to stay out of sight, but he’d never seen one so red before. Green and blue were the most common, anything else was rare, and such a bloody shade didn’t blend well to the background, though it certainly was eye-catching in its starkness.

He looked up at its face, the light from the sun behind it making it hard to make out. Two eyes blinked sideways at him, the iris’ expanding as they drank in his details. They were as red as its body, a shade lighter perhaps, the eyes becoming more yellow towards the edges. Below them rested two slitted nostrils at the end of a stubby snout.

Pearly white teeth peeked out from behind a wide mouth, the corners stretching up just a little, like their owner was trying not to smile.

“Don’t ruin it,” the lizard said, adjusting her footing, for it indeed was a her by the tone of the voice, and the fullness of her exposed, curved thighs. Lizards he’d spoken to before had voices like hard stone, but not this one. If he’d shut his eyes he could imagine the speaker was a fellow human. “Everyone else gets to say it, so why can’t I?”

It took a second, but the man realised she was waiting for an answer, and he shrugged up at her, his armour creaking. “I’m here about th-”

“Wait wait shaddup, you’re supposed to say one or the other, then we go from there, that’s how it works. Let’s try again, shall we? *Ahem* Friend, or foe?”

With a roll of his eyes, he answered. “Friend.” He held his parchment up, the paper waving in the breeze. “I’m here about the notice?”

The lizard raised one half of her brow. “The cleaning job?”

“Right.”

“You look a tad above this kind of work.”

“What makes you think that?”

The arrow trailed off to the side. “Well for one thing, you’re wearing armour worth more than my bow.”

His chestplate was highlighted at the edges with a few golden trimmings, where the paint didn’t quite hide them. His arms were encased in flexible plate designed to offer mobility without sacrificing protection. A skirt of mail protected his thighs and legs, greaves with triangular kneecaps sticking out of the deep mud, the steel not as filthy as one would think after spending hours traversing the swamp. She must have had a good eye, even from up there she could tell it was quality.

“Don’t know about that,” he said, giving one of his gauntlets a flex. The finger pads clicked together. “I’d trade it for your bow any day.”

Her weapon was not made from any metal he knew. The center grip was flanked with right angled stalks, probably to help with aiming. The rest of the bow was constructed in dozens of jagged pieces, giving it the appearance of a hundred connecting knives. The only thing familiar about it was the string joining the two ends, but even that didn’t look quite right, it was hard to explain, like it wasn’t string but wire. She’d probably found it in some Ancient vault, where almost all of today’s most dangerous weapons come from.

“Whistlewind?” The lizardess glanced at her weapon. “You like her? She’s sad and doesn’t say much, like my mother, but she’s good at finding your weakness – also like my… mother.”

“Sounds like quite the lady,” he said. “Where did you get her? The bow, I mean.”

“It was a gift,” she said, but seemed like she didn’t want to explain further, the stalk of the shroom leaning to one side as she adjusted her footing. “Anywho, we were talking about you, metal-guy. Why’re you interested in the job?”

“Pay is pay.” He shrugged.

“I thought the nobles sent others to do this kind of stuff.”

“I’m not a noble,” he said.

“Oh come on, guy.” The lizard scratched behind her ear-hole. The sides of her head were flanked by tall fins one might see on a fish, rising above her scaly crown and curving towards the center of her cranium, a bit like horns. “You can’t fool these eyes. You were born holding twin silver spoons.”

She hopped down from the shroom with a splash, one of them smiling and one of them not. It wasn’t hard to guess who was doing which. Now on ground level, Raynor had to look up a little to meet her gaze, the lizard taller than he.

“Come.” The lizard turned a different direction to where he was going before. “I’ll take you to the others.”

“Others?” He fell in behind her, each step followed by a wet splotch as they moved through the bog.

“There’s more than just you and me interested in the job.”

“Wait. You’re not the one who posted it?”

“Do I look like the kind of girl who has the time or money to scrounge up every sellsword in the province? Us non-nobles don’t have time for things like learning to read or write, your majesty.”

“You can’t read?”

“I know how gold is spelt, that’s more or less it.”

“Have you ever tried to learn?”

“Yeah, once. But reading and writing are pretty much worthless when you’re staring down the length of a knife, so I don’t bother.”

He felt like her logic was flawed, but he opted to turn back to the original topic. “And how many others are there?”

“One or two.” She looked over her shoulder at him and winked. “Or twenty.”

He made a sound like he’d suddenly got goosebumps, the lizardess frowning at him. “What? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a crowd?”

“No. I prefer to work alone.”

“Can’t stand the company of the lower-class? I get that.”

He stared at her backside for a second, weighing his reply in his head. He got the feeling her eyesight was more than exceptional. Hopefully she was just an outlier.

“How can you tell?”

Her grin was a blend of victory and pompousness, creating a smirk that dug into his skin the more he looked at her. “Didn’t take long for an admission.”

“I admit nothing. I’m just curious.”

“Curious to know how I know,” she replied without skipping a beat, the man thinking she could see straight through him. “You got three tells. Accent’s the most obvious – nobody who grows up outside stone walls talks like that. Second’s the way you carry yourself, it screams decent training, and I’m thinking it’s the academy kind of training. Only the rich can get their kid into an academy. How am I going so far?”

He tried not to show a reaction, but that seemed to be enough of an answer anyway, the lizard chuckling as she turned back round, leading him between a pair of chimney-like shrooms. Something about her bugged him the wrong way, and not just because of her attention to detail.

He ducked under a branch and said, “You said there were three tells, but you only told me two.”

The corners of her lips twitched, a sliver of her long teeth showing. “Okay, and?”

He blinked, feeling he was being led along. “And what’s the third thing?”

“You’re the one who wants to hide it, you figure it out.”

He was never one to back down from a challenge, especially from such a prideful woman. “… Have I offended you in some way? When I commented about your ability to read, was I coming off as arrogant?”

“A good try, but wrong. I’ll give you one more guess – don’t expect an answer if it’s wrong.”

“I’ll… have a think about it.”

“Don’t strain yourself, the bog gets deeper up ahead.”

With each pace, the lizard’s long legs sank halfway up the calves, and the human’s knees almost disappeared beneath the muggy water. She did not wear any protection on her legs, yet carried on unhindered, like she had done this before.

Slop pooled into his boots until his toes were mucky and wet, his knees reaching up to his chest from his over-exaggerated strides. The coat of paint that blackened his breastplate was starting to erode away from how much water sloshed about, revealing its original, chrome decor.

“The notice forgot to mention we’d be working in waist-high swamps,” he commented bitterly. Seeing the lizard so unaffected was annoying him a little.

“I’m doing fine,” she said, gesturing at herself. “It’s all in the technique, plus I know these swamps like the back of my foot.”

“It’s hand.”

Pausing by a stalk rising out of the bog, she looked back at him. “What?”

“You know things like the back of your hand.”

She looked down at her arm, extending her long fingers out in a flex. “Is it really? No wonder I’ve been getting all those strange looks.”

“Why would you know what the back of your foot looks like?”

“It’s a… lizard saying?” She explained, more to herself than him. “You humans wouldn’t understand. You’re always wearing boots or covering your feet up in armour. Those useless little toesey-thingies must be fragile. Not like these bad girls.”

Her leg came up from the water and planted against the stalk, her talons raking from left to right as she kicked out. The towering shroom listed off to the side and fell to the ground with a long splash.

The human gave the decapitated shroom a look before they moved on, the stalk as thick as his arm and packed with protective fibers. He wouldn’t want to be kicked by this lizard.

It wasn’t long before through the soup of condensing earth, a round piece of land broke through the waterline, green and mossy like they had come across the back of a giant turtle. Thin, hungry-looking trees sprouted up and out to create a wall of leaves, and through them he could make out the red and yellows of a bonfire.

“Camp’s just ahead.” She waved him on. “Come, I’ll introduce you to our new boss.”

“What’s his name?” he asked, the two pressing through the treeline.

“Diego Rou-something. He’s a wealthy guy from the upper-classes… hey, just like you! He’s hired his own entourage of personal cronies, plus all us mercs. He’s usually hanging around his big suave tent. Come.”

Within a sudden clearing, a group of tents huddled together with a roaring fire at their middle, there corners impaled into the soft dirt by long pegs. The perimeter was unwatched save for a lone human sipping at a tankard, giving the human and lizard a lazy nod as they passed. They must have thought their numbers would ward off any hostile fauna, the man spotting at least a dozen people milling about the camp, and many more voices murmuring behind the flaps.

Shrugging off an initial hesitation, he followed his lizard guide towards the largest tent, the sound of quiet voices and the occasional laughter reminding him of a tavern’s ambience, mixing oddly well with the background noise of crickets and sloshing water.

They stopped next to a long table set up in front of the most official looking pavilion. A man sat behind it, quill in his hand as he wrote down on slips of parchment, stacking them together once he was done. The setup reminded him of a bank lobby.

The lizard bowed, waving an exaggerating arm over to the table. “Here we are. Diego’s over there, you’ll have to sign up first, though.”

“Sign up?”

“Very official, isn’t it? Diego’s got a history of dealmaking, I think. He’ll need your signature before he’ll let you tag along. Don’t frown, you can’t ever get something for nothing, as I always say.”

“Did you sign it?” he asked. The lizard rolled her eyes and said of course she did. “But how?” he asked. “You said you couldn’t read or write.”

“They read it out to me. As for signing it… I got by.” She smirked. “Chop chop, your lordship, go put those fancy reading skills of yours to the test.”

Her emphasis on lordship did not go unnoticed, and neither did the earlier bow. Folding his arms he said, “I think I’ve figured out how you know.”

“Oh?” She quirked an eyebrow, or at least one half of her brow.

“My gear. It was the first thing you noted about me. Compared to everyone else here… I might as well be wearing jewelry.”

That smirk again, as if even though he’d figured it out, she was still amused by his participation. “Thought I had you stumped. Good to see you’ve got at least half a brain. Walking around in expensive plate isn’t exactly inconspicuous, you know.”

Even the vague torchlight surrounding them was catching the silver finish here and there, the contours of the breast piece angled in a way that would deflect blows from the front.

“And what’s with the colour?” she asked. “It’s like you’ve dipped the whole thing in a giant paint can. It looks terrible.”

“To deter any would-be thieves.”

“Shaddup,” she laughed. “You’re afraid someone will recognise your life of wealth. That’s so stupid. Look.” She cupped her hands over her snout and shouted: “Hey everyone! This man here was born in nobility!”

In the following silence, someone coughed, and another called out that he was too. The lizard gave him that smug again, so condescending that he had to will himself to not grit his teeth. “See? Only one person here actually cares.” Her claw tapped against his breastplate. “You. Question is, why?”

“Two people, actually. You remind me every five seconds, and I doubt you’ll stop.”

“You’re right about that, at least until you admit it.” She gestured towards the bench. “You shouldn’t keep the boss waiting, lordship.”

“Not coming with?”

“Someone has to guide you new guys in. I’ll be around for the big show, don’t worry, lordship.”

He tried to not let it show her new title of him was irking, instead giving her a grin and holding out his hand. “Just… call me Raynor.”

Something glinted in the lizard’s eyes, perhaps taken aback by his restraint. Raynor had the feeling he wasn’t the only one in this camp subjected to her taunts, maybe he was the first to keep his emotions in check and not snap at her.

She took his hand, her scales softer than he initially thought they’d be, rubbing and sliding against his skin as she tightened her grip, her talons resting over the inside of his palm. It was his turn to blink in surprise. Her hand was positioned more upwards to his, grabbing just at his fingers. It was how women of the court would take the hand of a gentleman, exposing the top of the hand for a kiss.

It certainly didn’t suit a lizard strolling about in the swamps. But he wasn’t going to let that get in the way of proper etiquette. With a grin he planted a quick kiss on her scaly hand, the bumpy texture of her hide feeling strange on his lips.

She caught his eyes as he looked up, laughing. “I see you’re still familiar with old habits. Ever held the hand of a lizard before?”

“Once or twice.” They let go mutually, the lizard turning and giving him a wink before he could speak.

“Gotta go. Tell Diego I’m on my last newb fetching run tonight.”

Her bow slinging over her back, she fell into a light jog, her tail curling round the side of a tent for a moment before she disappeared from sight. Raynor had his own fair share of abrupt departures before, always on the move in his recent years, and he found himself feeling strange. A taste of his own medicine, he guessed.

What even is a newb? he thought, shrugging at himself before moving over to the desk. His boots fell across a red carpet, a contrast to the soft, wet ground that surrounded them. Lit by the firelight of a nearby sconce, the man sitting behind the desk adjusted a pair of spectacles as he peered up at Raynor, one hand drumming on the wood as the other reached for a stack of paper.

“Name?” the man asked, sounding as if he’d just been awoken from a restless nap.

“Raynor,” he replied. The man started making notes on a slip of parchment covered in tiny handwriting.

“Occupation?”

“This really necessary?” he asked. The man frowned at him.

“All of Mister Roubard’s contracts follow the same procedure. Some background information helps Mister Roubard decide where his employees are best suited.”

“Mercenary, then.” The man nodded as if he didn’t expect any other answer. He filled out a blank spot on the paper, then flipped it round and pushed it towards Raynor’s side of the table.

“Please sign here, and here.”

“What is this?” Raynor glanced over what was easily a few hundred words. There was something about following Diego’s orders to the letter, and the punishment’s for misleading or providing false information while on the job. “Conditions?”

“In Mister Roubard’s line of work, terms must be adhered to so that we may provide a healthy work relationship during the contract’s duration.” The man sighed. “All terms are written down for your convenience.”

“Any loopholes I should be aware of?”

“All terms are written down for your convenience,” the man repeated.

“Fine, fine…”

He took a few minutes, and found nothing too out of the ordinary. All mercs would have to obey Diego to the letter, but this was offset by a generous reward. He grabbed up a quill and wrote his name down in the little boxes. Thanking him, the man with the glasses added his sheet to a pile of others. Raynor could have sworn someone had drawn a smiling face in their box – and by the way the face had a draconic-like snout, guessed it was the lizard’s contract.

“All contracts will be kept safe during the job, boy, don’t wory,” a new voice said, Raynor looking behind the spectacled man. An old man stepped up to the table, his face trenched with wrinkles, most of his dark skin hidden beneath a greying beard. A leather jacket with red buttons encased his thin body in an elegance one wouldn’t expect to see in a swamp. He appeared so feeble a light breeze could send him crumbling, but his firm tone seemed accustomed to giving orders. A black patch covered the man’s left eye, the beginnings of a scar could just be seen above and to the side of the leather strap that secured it to his face.

A pair of men in full plate flanked the old man, watching Raynor from behind lifted visors, hands keeping close to the hilts of their swords.

“Diego, right?” Raynor asked. “Have a place for one more in your company?”

Diego harrumphed, wiping his hands with a rag. “Calling this a company would be an insult to military doctrine. I was thinking of turning you away when I saw you, but…”

The old man looked Raynor up and down, inspecting him like a general would his troops. “You seem more capable than the average merc. Better equipped at the least. Sword and shield?”

He nodded to Raynor’s pack, where said weapons were visible over his shoulders. “Never fails me,” Raynor replied.

“Good. You can be up at the front when we head out.”

If he was trying to intimidate Raynor, it wasn’t working, Raynor merely shrugging, his pauldrons creaking. “Head out to where, exactly?”

“How much has Kilyn told you?”

Raynor hesitated, then assumed that was the lizardess’ name. “Nothing, she just said that she’s on her last ‘newb’ run, then left.”

“She must have assumed the same thing as I.” He put his rag away in his pocket. “She’s turned many away claiming they’re not worth the time. Fools that’ll get us or themselves killed. I trust her judgement.”

“You two worked together before?”

“Only met her a few weeks ago. She claims she lives in these backwaters, and I believe her. She knows the best ways to get a band of men ladened with gear through the muck without getting stuck – her knowledge is just as valuable as a good sword-arm.”

“I read through your contract,” he said. “Details on what we’re actually doing out here are a little short.”

“For now you’ll have to deal with only knowing the pay will be great, you have my word.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“I don’t blame you for your skepticism, boy. You’d be a fool otherwise. Just know that you’re as oblivious as the others, and that’s intentional. I will reveal everything tomorrow when we pack up. There’s plenty of bunks in the tents. Get some rest, you’ll need it.”

Diego waved his hand, turning away and ending the conversation. Raynor didn’t press him, pausing to watch the man with the spectacles shuffle away the stack of contracts into a folder. He turned back towards the camp, looking around at the unfamiliar faces, mostly humans with a few elves mixed in. Every other tent was guarded by a man in plate, probably Diego’s personal entourage. There were maybe twenty people in all, not including however many were inside and out of view.

Searching out Kilyn proved fruitless, of course, but she was the only one who wasn’t totally a stranger. He felt like he was back in the academy again – last to join back then as well – pensive about approaching the other groups of kids.

Was that really two decades ago? Damn…

The men round the bonfire seemed chatty enough, so he decided to head over, finding a vacant spot to squat and warm his hands. He caught the tail-end of a conversation – something about the Combustion Act’s slowly waning influence on the realm – before they eventually noticed him.

“Another fellow opportunist, welcome,” the man to his right said, taking a bite from a loaf of bread, the food muffling his voice. “Nishe arma, who’d ya kill fo’ it?”

Raynor knelt back, leaning on a hand as he answered. “I’ve killed while wearing it, does that count?”

The man considered, bright green eyes turned up in thought. He was a little younger than Raynor, his brown hair tied up into a ponytail. His mail shirt clinked as he shook his head. “Not tha shame.” He swallowed. “Must have cost a fortune. That why you’re here?”

“Of course.”

“Yeah, why would any of us be out here if we didn’t expect a good payday? Well, everyone except Orik there, he’s out for the thrill, aren’t you buddy?”

The man nodded to a dwarf sitting beside him, the stout man picking at his teeth with a dagger. “I pity tha’ man who lives fer’ gold, rather than glory.”

“Strange to hear that from a dwarf,” Raynor said. The treasuries of the dwarven kingdom were legendary, the greed of its leaders more so.

Orik hacked a wad of spittle into the fire, fixing Raynor with a glare. “Wha’, were you expectin’ me to blather on abou’ how my coffers shall be bottomless, how the spoils of war are tha’ real reason any one of us picks up a sword?”

“Well… yes.”

The dwarf grumbled under his breath, going back to picking at his teeth again.

“We all thought the same, but Orik’s a special case.” The young man swallowed the last of his bread. “I’m Callum by the way. That there’s Staunton, Marus, and Hrol. We met up in town before heading into this bog.”

Each man nodded at their name’s mention, Raynor’s eyes glancing over Hrol in particular. He stood out from the other men, simply because he was no man. He towered over the others, green skin clad in bulky armour that weighed more than Raynor did. His polished helmet caught the light of the fire, shadowing a pair of beady eyes glancing out from behind a tall gorget. Raynor gave the orc a friendly nod.

Raynor introduced himself, asking them if they had any idea what Diego’s job was about.

“Rich guy like him has to have a big old problem,” Callum replied. “He’s pretty well known in these parts for being a big player in the cities. Got enough influence to hire a royal battalion, but the fact he chose to post notices is just strange.”

“Maybe he wants locals,” the one called Marus said. “There’s that lizard wench with the bow he’s always confiding in. Maybe he’d rather keep the matter private, away from the king’s men.”

“He’s fleecin’ the lot of yer’,” Orik muttered. “I’ve seen it before. Sellswords are tha’ the cheapest labour. Expendable too.”

Hrol grunted in affirmation, or maybe he was disagreeing. Nobody was sure. Callum turned to Raynor. “What do you think?”

He considered the situation. Things weren’t quite adding up, but it was far too early to guess at why. He shrugged. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

“You’re not curious?”

“I’m downright perplexed.”

He lingered for a while, then got to his feet, rubbing his eyes as he made his way to one of the tents. The air inside was stuffy with body odour, a few others already snoring away inside, but his discomfort was quickly drained away when he found a free mattress, resting his back against the soft pillows.

He’d never really gotten used to sleeping in armour, but it was better than taking it off, only for it to be stolen while he slept, signed contracts or otherwise. Unless he was within four walls and a roof, he’d have to tough it out.

The distant croaking of frogs was harmonizing, and eventually he drifted off, his subconscious bringing up sensations of arrows pressing against his head.

2

The group, almost thirty men strong, marched in a messy rabble of strained limbs and sore muscles, leaving in their wake hundreds of divots from where their legs sank into the liquid soil, livening the quiet bog with a consistent clattering of armour, and resentful curses.

“Fuck Emeana.” The man called Staunton said. He wasn’t alone in his blasphemy. “Why did she have to make swamps? What’s the point of them?”

“You think you got it bad?” Callum asked, pointing his spear forward. “How do you think Orik feels down there?”

Each man’s foot sank all the way up to the knee in the soft soil, the mush and grass crumpling like wet feces. It clogged up boots and shinpads, but at least it stayed below the beltline. Orik didn’t have this mercy, the top of his iron helmet just visible over the ground level.

“It’s like wading through guacamole!” the dwarf yelled, voice muffled as he was momentarily submerged. “Moldy, stinking guacamole!”

The men at the front of the band fared no better, comprised of Diego himself plus his personal guard, each one laden down with his gear and heavy armour. They’d decided earlier to abandon the tents rather than carry them, after one of the guards almost got buried after the earth gave way beneath him.

“I’ve half a mind to turn around right now,” one of the elves murmured.

“Nobody forced you to sign on,” Diego said. It was the first time he’d spoken since they’d broke camp. “We’re almost there, regardless. Turning back now would be a waste.”

Raynor sighed in relief when the mush started to harden, one agonizing step at a time. The spines of dead, ancient tree roots bumped the water level at times, the fauna taking shape to flank an archway of spindly branches the band trundled between.

The winding water gurgled beneath and around them, its melody interrupted by the approaching splashes of someone running. Some of the men grew antsy – the thought of creatures lurking in the depths crossing everyone’s mind – but each man relaxed when it was only the lizard, running up the fallen log of a tree, her talons digging into the wood with each step, before stopping to perch on the cap of a shroom up and to their right.

“Head round that big mushroom up ahead clockwise, boys, unless you feel like going for a swim.” The lizard pointed a claw towards the north.

“… What’s clockwise mean?” someone asked.

“Just follow my lead,” Diego replied, turning his head back up to the lizard. “Thank you, madam.”

The lizard grinned back, her long legs muddy all the way up to the thighs due to her lack of clothing below the waist. Raynor supposed it would just hinder her agility more than protect it. Her eyes tracked over the band from above as they resumed walking, until she locked eyes with him.

She stretched her arms out, Raynor raising an eyebrow as the lizard leaned over, falling face first towards the ground, but not before kicking off the branch, the muscles on her legs bulging as they propelled her into a flip. For a second he thought she’d crash, but she landed beside him as upright as she started, the soft earth and water saving her ankles from breaking.

“Showoff,” Raynor said, rubbing away a bit of dirt that had splashed on his face.

“You were staring, what else was I supposed to do?” She winked. “What’s got you all starry-eyed?”

“I was wondering,” he began, falling in step with the rest of the band, the lizard doing the same. “How you navigate these swamps so well, Kilyn.”

He thought he’d get at least a blink at mentioning her name, but she didn’t react. “I live here,” she said.

Raynor glanced around them. “Here?”

“Yep.”

“In this swamp?”

“Yep. Do you like it?”

“It’s…” The right word came to mind when a mosquito landed on his neck, Raynor quickly swatting it. “Horrible. How long have you lived here?”

“Since the day I entered the realm,” she said. “Bog wasn’t always this big, but I like the look of the mushrooms.”

“Yes, fungus has always been known to be eye-catching.”

As he said this, a shroom bigger than he’d ever seen blocked out the sunlight with its girthy stalk. Its trunk was as wide as two taverns, its cap a giant dome of fibers that shaded hundreds of meters in diameter far above them.

Diego led the group to the left, as Kilyn instructed. The water on the right looked no different than the left, Raynor asking her how she knew it was deeper, could she see through the water?

She laughed. “Not even swamp-rats can see through all this muck. I gotta much simpler solution.”

She didn’t explain further, Raynor suspecting she wanted him to find the answer himself. He remembered how at home she looked perched up high, both today and yesterday, with that arrow pointed at him.

“Do you look down on it?” he asked, gesturing to the stalks above. “Is that how you tell?”

She nodded. “If it’s murky, you can walky. If it’s black, go back – that’s what I always say.”

“Right. So do you have a… a house, out here somewhere?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“You guess so?”

“I have several houses, technically.”

“Where?”

“Here, like I said. Haven’t you been listening?”

Shaking his head he said, “I can see asking you questions is a waste of words.”

“Aw, don’t pout, your lordship. It’s not my fault every woman you’ve come across instantly ogles you, you in your nice armour and shiny sword. Then again, hookers are supposed to be like that.”

“I don’t- I haven’t been in a brothel since I was…” He shook his head and sighed. “Forget I asked. You’re probably lying about it anyway, no sane person would or could live out here.”

“I’m a lot of things, lordship, but no liar. Cross my lung I’m not.”

She drew a claw over her breast, giving him that berating grin again before moving ahead to the front of the band, her thick tail acting as a counterbalance as it skimmed the surface of the water.

“It’s heart,” Raynor grumbled, not sure whether he should be confused or frustrated.

“Women, eh?” Callum said, sidling up and giving Raynor a nudge. “They got skin or scales, no man can figure them out. We’re just too dumb.”

What felt like half an hour passed as the band pressed on deeper into the marsh’s heart. Just when the men were starting to get restless (more than they already were), there came a sight that was both welcome and troubling.

Rising from the muck like the corpse of a dragon, the crumbling front of an estate emerged into view, the ageless architecture sweeping out across a hundred-meter wide clearing, no two roofs the same exact height. Dark windows dotted about the long structure, sectioned off here and there by narrow alleys, peering down like black eyes at the band as they approached. Black, swept roofs rising from behind the closest structures hinted at a villa further on beyond the wall of decaying stone.

Not at all like the popular right angle, each structure met at curved points that gently sloped up, as if the creators had capped each corner, and every roof with a bed of hooked blades. A hundred people might have lived here once, but nature had reclaimed it, purple vines clutching at the stonework and bringing it all down brick by brick, puddles of brackish water and carpets of weeds staining cobblestone pathways ringing round the walls.

A fence as tall as three men still stood erect, entombing the firmament that the eons-old estate sat upon. The clocking of boots on concrete was as stark to their ears as it was to the senses, feet at last meeting solid resistance after hours of marching across the mush.

The beginnings of a bridge lay crumbled before a gate in the fence, letters long since indecipherable inscribed into the top of its arch. Here Diego came to a halt, allowing the men a moment of rest as the morning sun warmed their backs.

“This is it, everyone,” Diego said, the band slowly growing quiet. “Here’s where the job truly begins. Gather round, everyone, nice and close – I don’t want to repeat myself.”

As the band cluttered together, a pair of Diego’s guards unfolded the same table Raynor had signed his contract on, the legs skimming against the pavement as they dragged it into position. The mercs crowded on one side of it, the guys in front crouching so the people at the back could see.

From one of his packs, Diego produced a roll of paper. “My notices told you we’d be cleaning, and that is partially true. This estate behind me? All of you here will be cleaning it out.”

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m not a maid,” the one called Staunton said. “I’m a killer. If you brought us all the way out here thinking we’d do chores for you…”

Diego raised a hand. “I said partially true. I kept my notice vague by intention, and there’s a reason why I’ve not disclosed more information than that until now. These buildings behind me are the home to a colony of Tarantors.”

The old man let a dramatic pause hang, some of the more distracted men snapping back into the present. “The royal guard would have this place consumed in fire rather than let it stand,” Marus said.

“Exactly why I want this matter resolved with discretion. I paid a large sum for the deed to this place, and you’re all going to help me restore it.”

“The King would pay us just as much for turning you in, old man,” someone said. There were a few muttered agreements.

“An angle I’ve already covered,” Diego said with a wave of his hand. “As you all know any association with Tarantors warrants death, and the King would have all of us hanged, especially when I confess you were all part of my entourage, your signatures more than enough to prove such.”

Any piece of dissent was cut off at that, expressions of worry spreading across the band, especially to the one who’d mentioned the King.

“You literally lured us into a blackmail,” Kilyn said, more impressed than worried. “That’s so clever.”

“It’s more of an insurance policy,” Diego replied. “To make sure of compliance while you lend me your assistance in this matter.”

“That’s what blackmailing is,” Raynor said. The old man grinned at him.

“Perhaps. But I was and always will be, a merchant, and if there’s one thing I can use to convince you all to follow me, it’s this.”

He gestured at one of his guards, who threw a large leather sack onto the table. Pulling the neck open, Diego revealed its sparkling contents to the band.”

“There’s two of those for each of you once the estate is bug-free.” The old man withdrew the sack after they each got a good look inside. “And as an extra incentive, for every Tarantor faceplate you bring me at the end of the clean-up, you’ll get one free tankard of ale when we go back to town, or an equivalent exchange in more gold, if you wish.”

“If I wasn’t interested before, I am now,” Callum said, speaking for more than a few others. The general mood had lifted, as if the gold had wiped their memories of the blackmailing a moment ago. “What’s the plan?”

“We will split into two groups,” Diego said, eager to discuss tactics. He placed his paper down on the table and rolled it out – a birds-eye view of a clutter of squares and rectangles etched into the parchment. “This is the front of the estate, and we’re here.” He pointed at the bottom corner. “I sent a few men in two days ago, and from what they can tell the bugs have built all their nests inside the buildings, not out. We will move from room to room, house to house, laying down smog canisters your group leaders will provide, which will be me and my captain here, Raloph.”

One of the guards nodded, leaning on a halberd taller than he was.

“One group will go west, the other east.” Diego gestured with his hands over the map, demonstrating their movements. “We’ll cross off each floor, moving round to the back of the estate where we’ll meet up at this building.” He tapped at the largest square on the map. “From what I can tell this is the lord’s manor itself. I don’t expect there to be more bugs in here than anywhere else, but it’s a big place, and we’ll clear it out quickly if we do it together, think of it as one final push.”

“Another thing, I’m not interested in whatever the previous owner’s possessions might be. Should it not slow down our progress, you are all welcome to take anything you need from the manor as we go along. From what I’ve seen they were quite wealthy, and we’ll be the first to set foot inside in some time.”

“Who’s decidin’ the groups?” Orik asked. “Yer want us to draw straws?”

“We shall split our forces in half, though my group will be a little fewer in number, as our route is shorter. A few of my personal guards shall act as escorts for both teams. Remember, it is your job to clear out this place, my guards shall only intervene when necessary. I’ll leave it up to you lot to decide which group you wish to join. Oh, and one more thing. Raloph?”

The guard stepped forward, his golden hair contrasting with his dark full plate. “My team will be covering more ground, so we should expect more resistance. Anyone who joins me will have their pay doubled. Now, if you will make two lines, mine here and the other over there…”

Damn near everyone shouldered their way to Raloph’s line before he finished speaking. Raynor stepping back as someone pushed past him in a hurry. It wasn’t long before Raloph’s group was full. Raynor could have sworn Raloph looked disappointed that the big orc Hrol missed out, the greenskin moving to Diego’s side of the group.

Raynor waited until there was calm among the ranks, before taking his spot in Diego’s line, most of his group looking disappointed. The whole thing reminded him of academy house teams – the house that always won, and the one that always lost.

“You didn’t even go for it,” a voice hissed in his ear. Raynor turned and was met with Kylin’s patronising smirk. “You were right next to pretty-boy’s line there, but you let them shove past you.” Rather than wait for an explanation she pointed a claw at him. “You’re no mercenary.”

He blinked. “Yes I am.”

“Mm, nah. No, if you were, you’d be over there. You’re either really, really new at this, or you’re not a man for hire.” She examined him, face to chest then back again. “Or both, perhaps?”

“What about you?” he said, flipping the remark back at her. “You’re quick, you could have squeezed in there before any of us had the chance, but you just stood there.”

It was subtle, almost to be unseen, but the lizards’ eyes flicked away, before quickly locking on his again. “I choose the path of least resistance, always.”

“Then why haven’t you booked it out of here? We’d have trouble navigating the swamp alone, but not you. You’d be out of here before Diego even realised. Maybe…” He trailed off until he was sure the lizard was eager to hear him finish. “Maybe you’re not a mercenary.”

She met his challenge with a grin, the game of who would blink first stretching beyond the physical. “It’s always the quiet ones,” she said. “Try not to get killed in there, you’re too amusing.”

He went to speak, but Diego called out before he could. “If that’s everyone settled, we should begin immediately.” The old man wiped at his coat. “The sooner we’re done the sooner we can all be on our way. Raynor? You’re at the front with me. Kilyn, take the rear. The rest of you in between.”

“Tip of the arrow, Raines’,” Kilyn said, unslinging her bow. “Don’t worry, I’ll be the best fletching you’ve ever seen.” She brushed her notched arrow for emphasis.

3

The band passed through the perimeter fencing as one, before splitting off into their respective groups. Raynor fell in with Diego, Kylin, Callum, Orik, the big orc Hrol, and a few other men he didn’t know the names of, moving off to the right.

“Keep in contact, Raloph,” the old man said, his guard giving him a nod. It wasn’t obvious how they were going to do that – the estate covered a lot of ground – but Diego didn’t explain.

Moving adjacent to the manor’s long wall, Diego pointed ahead of them, talking over the groups noisy shuffling of gear. “We’ll begin in the greenhouses at the estates’s right flank – Raloph’s team will be heading through the middle.”

Over his shoulder, Raynor watched the other group disappear into the shadowy mouth of the mansion’s front doors, tall as two men and meeting at a point, more writing above the frames eroded into gibberish. He wondered what they said.

“Does our team have a name?” Kylin asked from behind. She had drawn her bow, but she held the notched arrow in a casual grip. “Cause it should. What do you guys think of flankers?”

“Team cheap would suit us better,” Callum said, using his spear like a walking stick as they moved.

“Are you not satisfied with our current arrangements?” Diego asked, his one eye glancing at the group. “Money isn’t everything, you know.”

“You know what’s weird?” Callum asked. “How come it’s only the rich and the loaded who say that? I’ve never heard a beggar say he’s happy living on scraps.”

The occasional brick jutted out at odd angles to their left, some of the struts missing supports altogether, what bits of wood there were devoured by termites and time. Ducking under a fallen crossbeam, Raynor looked up at the windows, jagged with cracks and awash in darkness.

“Diego, sir,” he said, the old man raising his brow at the title. “Who owned this place? Before you?”

“No idea,” Diego said with a shrug. “The Baron was itching to be rid of it. He said the previous owners had moved on years ago, and was afraid of the King finding out about the bugs. He wrote up a deed and I bought it. The Ramanoth Estate is a little dusty, I admit…” Diego ran his hand over a section of the stone. “But I’ve refurbished brothels that make this place look like a resort in comparison.”

Something about the name Ramanoth rubbed Raynor the wrong way, and he couldn’t place why. He was sure he’d never heard of it before in his life, but it sounded… wrong. It was hard to explain.

“You want to live here?” Callum asked. It seemed he was the only other man curious enough to ask. “It’s in the middle of nowhere surrounded by swamps!”

“No, not live, boy,” Diego said. “This part of the realm is lacking in trade routes, and a good, solid bridge through these swamps would be perfect. And in the middle of said route? A pitstop villa for all travellers.”

“Talk about ambitious!” Kylin noted. “That’s a lot of walking you’d be cutting out of the picture. Think of how many people you could scam!”

“The villa would entail a small surcharge for services provided, of course. A toll to help keep the bridges in pristine condition.”

“… That’s what I said. Scam.” the lizard said.

“Is this a regular thing you do?” Raynor asked. “Buy out abandoned places and monopolise them?”

“Someone has to bring an ounce of civilisation to these lands,” Diego replied. “Corruption is thick in the air after the empire fell, and I’m doing us all a favour clearing house, or perhaps it’s clearing estate in this scenario. And making a little profit on the side is a nice bonus.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, humanity at its finest,” Kylin said. That got a chuckle out of Orik.

The continuous brickwork of the manor came to a stop, a wall of glass and wooden beams taking its place, divided from the crumbling masonry by a sudden frame. The glass was dishevelled, black with grime, the only thing visible through the wide panes were odd, blocky shapes deeper inside.

Nearby, a rectangular frame slotted into the panes drew their collective gaze, the bronze handle of the door contrasting against the ravaged complex.

“You’re up, shield,” Diego said, gesturing Raynor forward. There was a bit of disdain in his voice that was hard to miss.

“As you wish.” Shouldering the shield from his back, he brough it up in front of him with one hand while drawing his sword with the other. An ornate crest decorated the face of the shield – blue flowers tipped with white leaves wreathing across a flush profile of a stag, the antlers curving along towards the upper corners.

Both weapons were chipped at the edges, the swordblade a little dull, and the metal band ringing the shield was orange with rust. They appeared as neglected as the villa stood before them. If Raynor was bothered by this, he didn’t show it.

He reached out for the handle, the metal protrusion built in the visage of a gargoyle or some other beast. He gave it a twist, and met resistance.

“Locked,” he said. He stepped back, about to raise a leg and bash it down when a huge hand landed on his shoulder. He turned, seeing Hrol standing over him, the big orc grunting and flicking his head aside.

Raynor didn’t’ argue, stepping away as the orc leaned over, and introduced the door to his shoulder. The whole thing flew off its hinges, landing a few meters inside the building and landing with a puff of dust. Hrol stepped to one side and motioned the party forward.

“You know this is my property you’re thrashing up, greenskin.” Diego glared at the orc, but Hrol’s only response was a thumbs-up, as if he was saying it’s all good.

Leading the way, Raynor held his shield up and stepped into the darkness, his boots falling across the collapsed door. Rising in rectangles from the floor sat a numerous pattern of benches filled in with dirt, whatever plants that sprouted from the soil now deformed and dead. The ceiling was entirely glass, sunlight beaming down into the greenhouse malforming as it reached the filthy glass, turning white light into a puke-green hue that coated their surroundings.

Ahead and to the left, the walls stretched up and away into the neighbouring buildings, sectioned away by more portals leading into other areas of the manor. The group shuffled in behind him until the whole band was inside.

“Somethin’ smells in here,” Orik muttered. “And I’m not talkin’ abou’ tha’ pile of manure over there…”

“Split up into pairs or trios,” Diego said, snapping his fingers at one of his stalwart guards. “Take a couple of canisters with you. You see any nests, put one in the middle of them.”

Raynor cupped his offered canisters in a palm. They were bulky, and weighed much despite being tiny things. Each one was packed with chemicals that would suffocate any Tarantor as soon as they breathed it in, but would leave normal mortals unaffected.

A couple of the men went off on their own, eager to fill their packs with loot. Raynor noticed that Diego and his guards were staying put.

“Be back here in fifteen minutes, then we’ll move on to the next section,” the old man said, waving a hand for them to be off. “I want to see all of you at least one canister less, or your pay will be forfeit.”

Nodding, Raynor moved to the back of the greenhouse, the smell of outdated fertilizer filling his nose. It wasn’t much better when he moved into the main structure flanking the greenhouse, the presence of decay assaulting most of his senses.

A fireplace in the corner sat as a discarded hovel of ash, fire irons strewn about a circular rug sitting before the safety grill. Obliterated furniture sat surrounding a fallen chandelier, the candles numbering in the upper hundreds.

The common room, at least that’s what Raynor thought it was, was quiet and tattered, a few holes in the floor betraying rotting foundations, or perhaps a basement. A creaking of wood behind him drew his attention, seeing Callum falling in behind him.

“You don’t have to shadow me,” Raynor said. “Tarantors aren’t very dangerous.”

“Then why did the old man hire so many of us? There must be hundreds of them.”

“More than that – they like to breed in dark, isolated places.” Callum’s grip on his spear tensed a little at that. “Calm down,” Raynor added. “They prefer to scare away intruders rather than fight – they’re physically frail.”

“You ever seen one?” Callum asked, Raynor nodding. “What do they look like?”

“I’m sure you’ll find out. Just keep your canisters ready, and your eyes open.”

They passed a set of dressers stood along the side wall, one of the oak doors slightly ajar. Callum pressed into the opening with the tip of his spear, and gently pushed it open, like he was afraid something would jump out.

The hinges squeaked, its contents revealing to be nothing but a rack lined with dresses. “I think that’s proper silk,” Callum said, his bravado returning as he fingered the material. “Diego wasn’t lying – whoever lived here was loaded.”

As he stuffed the dress away, he noted Raynor was busy keeping watch, eyes cast up at the tall ceiling, some of the rafters splintered and broken, the mould growing in the corners furthering the darkness up there.

“Noticed you haven’t filled your pack up yet,” Callum said. “Waiting for the motherload?”

“Suppose you could say that.” Raynor turned to him. “Done?”

“Let’s go.” They were silent as they moved deeper into the space, the walls here angling at acute angles, turning the room into an irregular pentagon. Raynor wasn’t sure if Callum’s head was darting around in search of threats or valuables, but he kept close to Raynor, so he guessed it was more the former.

“So what brought you out here?” Raynor asked, thinking small-talk might help the man. The silence was starting to creep on him, too.

“The missus did,” Callum said. “She moved in with me a few years back, but she can’t stand the place.” He sighed. “I’ve been saving up to move us into one of the big cities, like Dutela or Klimwell, maybe even somewhere more north than that.”

“She must really like you, to still stick around if she openly hates it here.”

“She pretends she doesn’t, but I can tell. Should have more than enough after this to get her someplace she deserves.” Callum paused. “You married, Raynor?”

“No.”

“Changes your life. That what you’re trying to do with the lizard? Odd choice.”

“My interest in her is based out of wariness.”

“Said the same thing when I met my future wife. But hey, I’m not judging.” He raised his hands in surrender. “They’re great housewife’s, I’ve heard. They got houses as big as this estate in their lands.”

Ignoring him, Raynor pressed on through the passage, seeing up ahead a staircase leading to the next floor, the handrail having fallen to the ground long ago. Across the debris, a hallway stretched on, ending at a wall where two doors could be seen.

“You take this floor, I’ll go up,” Raynor said. Callum gave him an uncertain look, but after a moment nodded.

Each wooden step bent beneath his feet, creaking in protest as he put his weight on them. He watched Callum disappear beneath the edge of the flight, clutching the shield handle a little tighter as he ascended to the landing.

Before him lay another living space, strange contraptions flanking the space suggesting a working area, where two more doors splintered off to the sides. Shelves centred in the area were filled with broken bottles and jagged metal pieces, square sections upended by pulley ropes suggesting parts could be transferred between the floors.

There was also a main working bench, a bulky contraption laying on its top, leaning to one side, suspended by three cables, a fourth dangling uselessly to the side. Its sides were flanked with four pistons with room to move up and down, with thick tubes snaking about the body and sticking out of the back.

It might have been Ancient technology – he couldn’t discern the purpose of it, filled with gears and small parts seen through an exposed section on the front. A faint commotion drew his attention to the door on the left. From beneath the frame he could hear the faint murmur of a never-ending whir, the kind of whir one would hear when approaching a hive of wasps.

Steeling himself, he pushed the door open – finding it unlocked – and was greeted with a repulsive sight.

It was bulbous and pink, writhing like a cyst waiting to be popped. Two meters long and half as thick, it wriggled against webs of resin securing its edges to the floorboards. It sat in the middle of what was once a bedroom, replacing the mattress of a four-post bedding. A few other identical, but smaller masses lined the walls, four or five of them spread about, with one sticking just above the door when Raynor glanced up.

The wet noises they made as they wriggled made his stomach churn – the buzzing now partnered with a moist squelching sound that matched the movements of the eggs. He walked up to the biggest egg and prodded it with his sword, the flesh squirming in vain to avoid the tip.

“Hideous beasts,” he mumbled, reaching for one of his canisters. He heard a grunt from somewhere far away, followed by the bashing of steel on flesh. He guessed someone had found a live one, but there were no calls for aid, which didn’t surprise him. With this many people, the job would be a breeze.

He flipped open the cap of the canister with his thumb, dropping it. The cylinder rolled to a stop against the cyst, a little trail of smoke pluming from the nozzle. All he had to do now was close the door. But as he made his way back, he heard another grunt, but this one was right behind him.

Turning, he saw the egg struggle about even harder, the flesh stretching to its limits as an arm fought against the protective webbing from the inside. He thought he saw the pinpoints of claws, blinking when the fingers started making tears in the inner resin.

In this stage they shouldn’t be nearly as strong enough to break free on their own. He readied his sword, but whatever reaction the canister made had spread to the others, and all the cysts began to move faster. The one on the ceiling ripped free of its anchors, falling to the ground and popping like a water balloon. Too late did Raynor realise just how deteriorated the floor had been, a hole opening up where the egg had landed, cracks in the wood forming web-like patterns throughout the floor.

Weightlessness took him, the floor opening up and swallowing him like a wooden mouth. He rained down along with the rest of the boards, cursing his heavy armour as he met the ground below, only to crash through that one as well.

Dust and lumber created a storm around him, the airtime only a few seconds longer before Raynor hit the hard bottom of another new floor.

Gong~! His armour reverberated like someone had taken a frying pan to his plate, Raynor’s bones shaking as his shoulder took the brunt of the fall. A pile of debris buried over him, the man lifting a protective arm over his face.

He coughed, soot pluming out from his face in a cloud as he sat up. Mumbling a few curses, he peered up at the long fall he’d journeyed. Two gaping holes exposed two whole floors, maybe ten meters high in all. It was a wonder he hadn’t broken his arm, though his shoulder was throbbing in pain.

To one side of the above hole, Callum’s face appeared over the lip. Hand to his mouth, he called out: “You alright down there?”

“Peachy,” he said, taking in his surroundings. He’d landed in some sort of basement, cobblestone on all sides, including the floor. Yellow smears drew lines around the place he’d landed. At least the eggs were dealt with.

“What happened?”

“Found a nest up there. Floor couldn’t handle my weight.”

Grabbing his sword and shield, he wiped the dust from his arms and surveyed the room. He’d landed right in the middle of a storeroom, boxes and crates with exposed lids ringing the square room. A passage opened up in one of the walls, leading to a perpetual darkness.

Another face appeared from above, Raynor’s eyes meeting Diego’s remaining one. “I’m afraid the repair costs will come out of your pay, shield.”

“Got rid of a nest, at least.” Raynor gestured to the streaks of pus by his foot.

“So I see.” Diego looked about the basement. “We’ll be pushing on soon. There a way out of that hole?”

“I can see a passage, but it’s dark.”

“Here.” Falling from above, two objects clanked against the floor. One was a torch, the other a tinderbox. Raynor had to step out of the way to avoid a concussion. “Try not to fall behind, we’re on a schedule.”

“Appreciate the support,” Raynor grumbled, leaning down and examining the tinderbox. The torch wouldn’t last long given its short length, but he wasn’t worried, he always had a back-up.

“See you on the other side,” Callum said, Diego not bothering to say goodbye as the men left him alone. Striking up a light, he held the blazing torch before him as he sauntered forward, checking one of the crates as he went. It was empty. He looked inside another and it too was void of any content. There was a label he could just make out, two letters etched into one of the planks.

A.A.

Nothing else explained what the marking meant, and his memory drew up blanks. He kept a note of it and moved on into the passage, leading with his torch. He was not claustrophobic, but the shadows were deep, childhood fears creeping up his spine as the thought of being trapped underground, alone with bugs troubled him, as it would anyone.

The passage widened, and he swept his torch about, the flames dancing across several metal constructs. One appeared to be a board supported on two silver legs, various alchemical runes etched into the flat surface in white chalk. He stepped up to the board and frowned at the formulas. Raynor’s mother had been an ambitious alchemist, her teachings passed down through him so he could, in her words: ‘carry the knowledge to others’. He had yet to take on even a single student.

The formulas that were readable followed along a pattern to the more taboo side of chemicals, to concepts that could enhance the drinker’s abilities, though at a very high risk of death. Raynor was reminded of the legendary potion Silver Shot. With a fifty percent mortality rate, it was banned throughout the realm – those who’d survived drinking it could wield bows and other ranged weapons with deadly proficiency. Perhaps the previous owners of the manor were trying to make something similar?

Beyond the board lay several stacked racks filled with vials, each one glowing with a unique colour. Uncomfortable lingering down in the dark, he left the lab mostly unexplored, moving to the next adjacent passage.

Here the path split off into three directions, one heading back vaguely the way he’d come, and the other two branching ahead. There was a faint light coming from the path to the right, Raynor heading towards it without much else to go on.

The space widened with each step, until the space rivalled the rooms on the ground floor. Mattresses lay in small clumps scattered about the space, blankets being feasted on by moths separating a few mounds of pillows. Long tables and couches lay about randomly, but calling this place a living quarters would be overstating it. This was a slave pit, maybe even a prison chamber.

Adding to his repulsion was more eggs, straining against their protective resins on the walls and floors. Raynor counted five, but two of these were empty, the flesh splayed out like popped pimples, flat and empty. He didn’t have to look far to find their prior occupants.

The light of his torch caught a pair of large orbs, black and dead like those of a shark. The thing was no taller than his waist, a pair of antennae tipped with hairs and a large, shield-like plate raising its height a few extra inches. Mandibles clicked away in place of where a mouth should be, little teeth pointing sideways as it glared up at the human. The body was thin around the middle, but thick at the upper and lower ends, supported on two bulging legs that ended in stubs, like those of a fly. Buzzing behind it were a set of crystal-clear wings thick with membranes, sounding off a whining, continuous note that reminded Raynor of dog whistles.

Tarantors were not found of light, but this one was different, snapping in his direction with its odd, crab-like mouth, before charging forward. The little thing was quick, Raynor barely raising his sword in time to cut it down with an upraised swipe.

The thing dropped at his feet, the wings twitching until Raynor brought his boot down. Flesh and plate cracked wetly, the sound very loud in the stone confines. These things were never alone, Raynor seeing two more identical bugs flittering towards him up and to his right.

There was no need of a dramatic, to-the-death encounter worthy of a build-up. He cut both down in a pair of quick strokes, ichor flying away in streams as the bugs landed hard and writhed about. They were dangerous in large numbers, but someone who could wield a sword would be fine, even outnumbered. Raynor did have to curb-stomp the bugs to make sure they were dead, but apart from that he didn’t break much of a sweat.

Giving the eggs a grimace, he uncapped another canister and threw it over his shoulder, moving past the mattresses towards a flight of stairs on the far side. The can hissed and sputtered, until he was far enough away that he no longer heard it.

Apart from his own breathing, the only sound he heard as he descended was the sounds of feet above him – a small reminder he wasn’t completely alone. He remembered reading about the bugs years ago. Tarantors had no other variants, they were all female and bred fast, but there needed to be a lot of them to form a colony. As long as they cleared more than half of the nests, the Tarantors would either move on or die outright.

The stairs did not lead back up to the ground floor as he hoped, instead levelling out to another intersection, where two stone gargoyles watched the trio of branching passages in an eternal, silent vigil. There were wax candles slotted into the jaws of the statues, melted into useless piles, and again Raynor wondered who exactly owned this manor to have such strange taste.

The gargoyle on the right flickered in the torchlight, carved with a master’s hand judging by the detail. It was made of pure onyx, the black finish catching his eye. The cold gaze of the gargoyle stared back at him from its dark sockets.

The hairs on his neck stood on end, Raynor turning and seeing a bug flying at him from the passage he’d come from. He ducked, avoiding the sharp claws tipping the bug’s huge hands. They came close enough they brushed against his long hair. Rolling into a crouch, he stretched his sword up and caught the bug in the thigh, bringing it to the ground in a hard slam.

The sound of flittering wings drilled into his head, Raynor seeing another two bugs sauntering towards him from another passage, their odd gait when they walked on their hairy legs reminding him of a strutting pigeon.

He waved his torch to scare them off, but they surprised him by charging forward anyway, one digging its teeth into the plates on his leg, the other hopping into flight to attack him from above.

Grunting in effort, he jammed the torch into the thorax of the one above, ignoring the one on his leg as he slammed the bug into the wall. The impact dazed it, Raynor gripping it by the head and thrusting into the stone once more. Its hard skull melted into mush beneath his fingers, the skull popping like a grape, the body folding up and crumpling into a ball.

Dropping the torch and gripping his sword in two hands, he turned the blade in a reversed grip, lodging the weapon into the collarbone of the bug trying to jam its fingers into a gap in his greaves. He had to use the sword like a lever to get the bug off, his efforts rewarded with a wet snap, the bug’s head jutting at an odd angle from tis spine.

His eyes went wide when the first bug he threw off started to get back up, his prior confidence taking a backseat as the thing completely ignored its wounds. It faced him, and over its shoulders he could see another two bugs crawling across the walls.

“Raynor…” the one’s further away said, the clicking mandibles suddenly forming coherent syllables. The wounded bugs around him echoed their companions in their tinny voices. “Raynor, Raynor, Raynor…”

Heart racing, he brandished his shield as he charged forward, blocking a swipe from the bug and finishing it off for good with a quick decapitation. The next bug crawled over his shield, its long limbs reaching for his pauldrons and arms, searching for the breaks in his armour.

Trapping it between his shield and the body of one of the gargoyles, he reached up and sliced its jaw open, watching the light leave its large, alien eyes. He turned to face the next bug, but too late, it was upon him, leading with its jaws as it launched for his throat.

Holding it at bay with his arm, he staggered back, surprised by the strength housed inside its small body. Its teeth locked together in hard snaps as it bit at his face, barely an inch away from chewing his eyes out. The wings were going crazy with how hard it was putting its weight on him.

There was a snap of wire, Thnk~!, and the bug’s head jerked to the right, the shaft of an arrow piercing it from one ear-hole to the other. The pressure lifted, Raynor throwing the bug aside with a growl.

“You called for pest control?” a familiar, smug voice asked. Looking up, Raynor watched the lithe frame of Kylin saunter through one of the passages, her rolling gate drawing his eye as her hips titled with each pace, bow in one hand as she leant on the shoulder of a gargoyle casually, tilting her head at him.

“Thanks,” he said, wiping his sword on his leg and picking up his torch. “How’d you find me?”

“That short one, Calcium or whatever it is, said you’d taken a tumble. I just followed your screams of terror.”

He frowned, unsure of whether she’d come out of the same passage as he did. Then again, the bugs had disoriented him. He watched as she plucked her arrow from the bug she’d shot, the creature flinching as the last of its nervous system reacted. “Weird,” she said. “Shot like that should have killed it instantly.”

“They’re tougher than any I’ve faced,” he said, finishing off the bugs still moving with a few plunges of his sword. “Usually they prefer to fight as a last resort. When they echoed my name that was the least unusual thing, ironically.”

“That was me, my bad.” She put the arrow in her quiver, which dangled behind her hip, where her tail helped keep the sling close to where she could reach it. “Had no idea they were copy-cats.”

“One of their defences,” he explained. “They mimic anything they hear, try and shake up anything threatening them.”

“Like parrots? Creepy.” She looked at him expectantly. “Well? Where too, chief?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said, and that made the lizard smile for some reason. “I was following that light there before they ambushed me.” He pointed over her shoulder.

“Good idea, could be sunlight.” She stepped aside, blinking at him when he didn’t move. “You lead the way, you’ve got the shield, I’ve got the bow.”

He couldn’t deny that logic. Careful not to burn himself, he kept his shield and torch in one hand and sword in the other, proceeding slowly. He felt a little better with some company – especially now that he knew these bugs were tougher than he thought.

He wasn’t a fan of her constant noise, however, the lizard voiding any hope of stealth as she said to him in a casual voice: “Looks like team Down Under has their work cut out for them. Undernumbered, underground, underafraid.”

“Some of those aren’t words,” he said, hoping she’d see he wanted to keep quiet. She did not.

“One of us has to come up with some names,” she said. “Keeps things organised. We got team Cheap for obvious reasons, team Down Under because of, well, other obvious reasons. That midget, Rick, said his dwarven armies had nicknames for their companies.”

“Orik,” he corrected. “You’re really interested in names, Kylin,” Raynor said. “But you can’t even remember any of the others’ names. Why is that?”

“I remember yours, Raines. What’s with that look? It’s a lizard thing, I’m not used to human speech yet.”

The fact that lizards spoke common like everyone else went unsaid, Raynor shaking his head as he pressed forward.

Raynor held up his fist, seeing movement ahead. Kylin moved around him without breaking pace, the human tugging at her arm before she moved too far. “That means stop,” he said, showing her the gesture again. “I hear something.”

“What could it ever be?” she asked, the flittering of dozens of wings getting louder. Peering into the chamber, lit by some unseen light hidden round the far corner ahead, Raynor made out the thick shapes of eggs, surrounded by maybe half a dozen bugs moseying about the chamber, weaving between long tables and overturned chairs.

“Think you can handle them?” the lizard asked, speaking with only a slightly patronising voice.

“As long as we make sure the ones we kill stay dead. Curb stomp them if you have too.”

“Sounds brutal. Love it.” Before he moved forward she tugged him back. “Hey, you said these things mimic what they hear, right?”

“Uh, yes,” he said. “It’s how they ward off predators, usually. Bugs shouldn’t be this aggressive.”

“Boobies!” Kylin yelled, startling Raynor. From the chamber the word echoed back a dozen times in the tinny, high-pitched voices of the bugs.

“Boobies, boobies, boobies… bies….”

The lizard doubled over, chuckling like a ten-year-old. Raynor scolded her, telling her she should be quiet.

“Oh, relax, they already know we’re here, they’re just waiting until we make the first move.”

He looked at her like she was an idiot, hearing the restless bugs coming over to investigate. Raising his shield, he gave the lizard a dirty look before pouncing on the closest bug before it could react, cutting it into two halves at the waist, both pieces sliding in different directions.

At least Kilyn knew when to focus, a high-pitched whistle piercing his eardrums, Raynor seeing an arrow fly by him and finding its home in the chest of a flying bug, the thing crashing into the wall like an injured bird, the rod wobbling twice before settling.

Swatting a bug out his path, Raynor flourished his sword through the air, catching one of the bugs in the hip, ending its quick flight. He squashed its head in with his boot, quickly refocusing on a pair of bugs flying down on him. A couple of claws found their way past his shield, but his armour took the brunt of the damage, the man flinching when an arrow zipped by and sent a bug spinning to the ground, close enough that if he was a step to the left she would have killed him. The snapping of her bowstring was fast and efficient, her bug count keeping up with his.

One by one the bugs thinned, Raynor finishing off the last one with an upwards chop. He and the lizard wasted no time, smashing in their soft skulls lest the bugs try and attack them again. Remembering the eggs latched to the cobbles, Raynor quickly popped open his last canister and threw it into the corner.

The lizard said something vulgar about the bugs mothers as she retrieved her arrows, Raynor noting that not one of them had broken. Soon a layer of smog filtered over his vision, and Kylin stood up suddenly, holding her snout in one hand and waving the air with the other. “*Cough* F-Fuck is in that can, man? Eugh.”

“Grounded up flowers.”

“Sick *cough* -joke, dude. Thought Diego was just using a figure of speech when he said smoking them out. You couldn’t pop it after we left?”

“Calm down, it won’t kill you. And I’m not joking, grounded up flowers really drives the bugs off once you burn them. Creatures from Scourge can’t stand their purity.”

“Scourge?” she asked, sneezing as the pair moved through the chamber to the far end. “These things are from there?”

“Where else? I get the feeling the previous owners of this estate are the reason they’re here. Cultists, maybe. I wonder if there’s a portal somewhere.”

“You’re a little more curious than the other mercenaries, Raines,” she said, clearing her throat.

He shrugged. “Aren’t you? Big empty estate in the middle of the swamps, infested with corruption? The whole thing smells, in more ways than one.”

“With the reward Diego promised, not many mercs would really care.” Her look was almost sly, one half of it lit up by his flickering torch.

“I guess I’m not like the many.”

The slits of her eyes stretched until they almost engulfed her whole eye, the man looking away, feeling more than uncomfortable when the lizard laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

She didn’t answer him right away, letting a few more chuckles slide out of her snout. “You’re a horrible actor, Raines. There’s no such thing as an inquisitive merc. Who were you before you tried on this façade? Don’t you even think about denying it or I’ll leave you down here in the dark.”

He went to speak, sighing when the fight left him. How did she know? He’d done other jobs before this, not a single eye batted the whole time. The odd feeling he got when he was around her was growing stronger. “Why do you care?” he asked. “We won’t meet again after the job is done.”

“Perhaps. But you won’t set foot in the estate afterwards either, but you’re not letting that stop you. We’ve got something in common, aside from slashing bugs.”

He went to say something, hesitated.

“Pinky swear I won’t tell a soul.” She held up a digit, although it was actually the thumb, not her pinky. “Come on, it’ll help pass the time!”

His sigh was long and forced, as if he wanted to buy a few more fleeting moments, hoping bugs would come interrupt them or something. Yet nothing in the darkness reached out, and so the silence forced him to speak. “I was a… Paladin. For the Directive.”

Kylin’s reaction wasn’t what he was expecting, the lizard’s chops turning up in that grin she liked to flaunt – as if she’d already known and just wanted him to admit it. “That explains the armour. You’ve painted over most of the decorations it’s almost unrecognisable.”

He rubbed at the breastplate, a little self-conscious. “It’s as I said, to deter anyone from recognising it. It had worked so far, until yesterday.”

“But I thought you were ashamed of your nobility?” she asked. At least now Raynor had the chance to let her answer her own questions, though she put him to shame by figuring it out quickly. “A stupid worry for a stupid man, that’s what I thought. You had me really going there for a while, Raines, I salute you.”

“That was the plan,” he said.

“So you’re actually ashamed about being a Paladin? Or something you did while with them? Now that I think about it, I didn’t think the Directive kicked out their own members.”

“They don’t.”

“Not giving me anymore, huh? Okay.” She snapped her fingers, drawing his waning attention. “No one ever gets something for nothing, so let me even it all out. Info for info. Sound good?”

He made a whatever gesture, though her offer did intrigue him somewhat.

“I really do live in these swamps,” she said. “and I… knew about this place. The moment I found out Diego was buying it out, I pounced, offered my help. I told him to toss me an extra bag of gold, and I’d help anyone wanting to join up get through the swamps.”

Raynor thought her sudden employment was a little too convenient. But something still didn’t add up. “Did you know about the bugs, too?”

“I thought they were just big insects,” she explained. “I never got too close until now. I’m glad Diego’s got all these people with him, they’re pretty nasty.”

He gave her a long look, the lizard not even blinking. “You said you had several homes out here,” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “If you must know, they’re up in the trees all spread out across the swamps, so I’ve always got a place to rest nearby.”

“So they’re treehouses?” he asked, a little smirk playing over his face. “Cute.”

“Let’s see you call me cute when I shoot an arrow through your foot,” she snapped. “Don’t call me that again.”

Raynor liked getting a reaction out of her at last, letting silence fall between them as they moved closer towards the light. The sound of flittering wings was gone for now, leaving only his bootfalls and her clicking talons to bounce off the stone walls.

“So. Paladin, hey?” the lizard asked. “What’s with the trashy sword? Where’s your holy weapon?”

“This is my former blade.” He held the sword up. It did not catch the torchlight like one would expect “Used to be a flawless silver. I consecrated it myself on the altar in the Grand Temple.”

“And that?”

“My shield? They helped bring it up to standard, but it belonged to my father. I’ve not parted with it since I left my home.” He paused. “It wasn’t consecrated, but it sometimes looks like it has lost its shine since…”

“Yes?”

“Since… I left,” he said, the words sounding forced even as he spoke them. “Sorry, my lady, I’ve not really talked about it since… since it happened.”

“I’ll find out soon enough, so might as well eat the beans now.”

“Spill the beans. And I’ve always believed a little mystery helps keep things interesting between people.”

“You can say that again,” she said, laughing at some joke he wasn’t aware of. “I’ll play along, Raines, but just know, when I want to know something, I always, always, always… always, get my way.”

She moved ahead, Raynor feeling a lump in his throat as he watched her go. To say she was scantily dressed would be an understatement. The wait-high bog outside had at least made her exposed physique a little practical, but now she stalked the dungeons wearing no more than a swimsuit.

It was the first time he got a good look at her tail, thin at the end but as thick as a fist towards her hindquarters. Two white streaks starting at the tip of her tail drew pale lines across the flanks of the appendage, contrasting with her prominent red scales like warpaint. It slithered from side to side as she walked, counterbalancing for her longer strides.

She glanced over her shoulder, catching him staring. Her long, forked tongue came out and disappeared between her lips, like how a snake tastes the air for scents. “You Paladins know a lot about Scourge, right?”

“More than most, I suppose.”

“I heard your order has Scourge under its own catalogue – as big as the non-fiction section! What can you tell me about it?”

“Of Scourge? Well, uh…” He recalled his years of study for a moment. “Well some believe Scourge is another dimension, others think that it’s a place deep under the ground, no one is sure. Whatever the case is, they’re connected to this realm. They have to be, or else we wouldn’t know about them in the first place.”

“Connected, how?” she asked.

“Through us, the mortals. The daemons who live there feed off our insecurities, and offer their help in exchange for a way to expand their influence on us. The first records of Scourge’s existence come from all the way back to the lizard empires. One of their kings had summoned a daemon which wiped out a rival kingdom. They say it burned a whole continent down to the last blade of grass. That’s where the name ‘scourge’ came from.”

“So it’s the lizards’ fault we all live in fear?” she asked.

“History can’t be ignored. They started it.”

“So the actions of one reflect the many?” she asked. “That’s dumb.”

“Very eloquently said.”

“I don’t know what that means,” she said. “So what about you? You hate lizards?

“The scriptures say if the lizard’s had not existed, neither would Scourge.”

“I asked you if you hate us. Not your damn scriptures.”

If she’d asked Raynor that a few years ago he would have said yes. He’d been pious, a zealot with a purpose in life. Even if the purpose had been wrong on so many levels, he found himself missing the feeling, and he hated himself for that.

“Of course not,” he said. “Despite your best efforts, Kylin, I can’t throw all lizards in the same boat.”

“Careful, the gods might strike you down if you talk too loud.”

“Let them,” he said. Kylin thought that was worthy of a hearty laugh.

“I’d almost think you weren’t ever a Paladin by how aloof you sound. You got balls, Raines. I’m starting to like you.” She waved a hand behind them. “So why is Scourge after our realm?”

“No one is sure, they’ve never offered terms. Some say they’re here to conquer us all. There was that daemonic invasion during the Snap, and people think they might try something like that again. The Directive’s our best defence, always there to stamp out any sign of corruption.”

“Always, eh? Looks like they’ve been slacking off if old Dee can buy out this taint-estate.”

“I won’t argue that.”

“What if they’re not here to conquer?” she asked. Raynor held out a plaintive hand.

“What else could it be?”

“That’s literally what I’m asking,” she said. “Maybe their world is dying, maybe they just like it here, I certainly would if I grew up in a literal hell. What do you think?”

“From what the scriptures tell, they want to increase their power, so they prey on our weak.”

“Scriptures, scriptures, scriptures, is that all you talk about when I ask for your opinion? You did actually leave the Directive, right, Raines?”

Raynor hesitated, her words digging into his skin more than they should have. Why couldn’t that life just stay buried?

“I don’t know what they want,” he replied. “it could be anything. No deamon has ever tried to explain itself to me.”

“And would you listen? If one did just want to talk, would you hear it out?”

“That would be the day, wouldn’t it?” he laughed, but then frowned when Kylin fixed him with a look. “You’re serious? Kylin, have you ever seen a daemon? I remember the first time I did. It took me and a hundred of my Paladin brothers to take him down, and even then we had to rely on Ancient artifacts.”

“Doesn’t sound like he had much of a chance to talk with a hundred zealots on his butt.”

“What’s your point?” he said, struggling to think of a counter.

“My point, is that let’s just say one was a tad, just a tad, friendlier than most. Would you let it explain itself?”

“He would just use that as a distraction,” Raynor said, stubborn as always.

“What happened to that whole ‘not in the same boat’ talk? Not much is worse than a hypocrite, Raines.” There was a certain chastising tone in her voice that was hard to miss.

“I… ergh…” He grumbled, scratching his temple as he relented. “I… guess in the very, very slight possibility one didn’t try and kill me outright, I’d… give it a chance.”

It was the best admission she’d get out of him, Raynor himself surprised by his own words. Was there a limit to his fascination? There might not be, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

Kylin seemed pleased by his answer, tossing her bow from one hand to the other. “Looks like the Directive brainwashing’s not as thick as I thought.

“As I said – I’m not a Paladin anymore.”

“If you say so,” she said. She wasn’t alone in her scepticism.

4

The mouth of a dragon, the maw wide open to expose the fiery breath pooling in its throat, wedges of jet-black metal rising from just inside the lips, ending in curved points in sets of eight, one angled down, one up – the teeth.

The creator had even gone to the length of carving out a set of large eyes, black gemstones the size of his head rising above the maw to stare at some dark point in the ceiling. Raynor had expected sconces, sunlight even, but he and the lizard had found themselves in the middle of a smith’s workshop, several anvils and grindstones giving such away, all concentrated round the maw which, if Raynor’s suspicions were true, acted as the forge, judging by its size, one could walk in there and heat up a blade in the red fires.

His brow was already wet with sweat, the unattended forge scorching even though the whole estate had been abandoned for some time. Kylin, her scales perhaps giving her body a better temperament, leaned against one of the teeth and peered into the forge.

“I didn’t know the bugs could smith,” she said, fascinated more than worried.

“They don’t,” he said. “this explains how the bugs got here in the first place.”

The lizard looked at him over her shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“That’s no normal forge. You see the perfect craftsmanship? The Ancient runes written along the lips there?” He went as close as he dared, skin burning as he examined the letters of the forgotten language. “It’s an anchor.”

“An anchor? Like…the big metal things boats have?”

He blinked at his scaly companion. “If that helps you, then yes. An anchor could be anything – the space between a pentagram, the door to a cupboard, or an altar – daemons can form a connection to anything if the ritual’s done properly. That’s how the bugs got here, whoever made this estate tried to contact Scourge, and the bugs came through.”

“Question is, who? And why. That’s the bigger one.”

“I found some lab notes back there, but the formulas were missing something, an herb or maybe an augmenter. Maybe the final ingredient they needed could only grow in Scourge.”

“So you’re saying there’s a portal to Scourge two meters away from us?” She looked into the flames, and so did Raynor, his eyes watering, but not just from the heat. The more he stared, the more the flames began to dance into shapes, comprehensible and not, places and times that could, would, or did not exist. “Neat,” she added.

He looked at her like she’d spoken another language. “I don’t know how you can be so calm, my lady. We must destroy it, or find the one who did the ritual. Diego should know his estate’s sat on top of an anchor.”

“Woah, hang on a second.” She pulled at his arm, her grip strong as she stopped him from walking off. “You’re being a tad hasty.”

“Haste is exactly what we need. Any minute now a hundred more bugs could wander through that gate.”

“What do you think he’ll do once you tell him? He’ll call off this whole job, bring in his own experts, and then it’s goodbye payday. This whole thing will be a waste. You’re being selfish.”

“S-Selfish? How dare you…”

“You might not be interested in the money, but everyone else is, including me. Some of us need this, Raines, and if you expose the forge now you’ll ruin everything. Diego has to think the bugs came from somewhere else.”

“But…”

“If you really are a mercenary, you’ll see that I’m right. I can’t stop you from tattling, but I don’t know, Raines, you going off and acting all self-righteous and screwing things over for the rest of us sounds a little Paladin-like, doesn’t it?”

He looked from her to the forge, the gears in his head turning.

“If you’re so worried,” Kylin continued. “tell Diego after we’ve got our pay. How’s that sound? We walk away richer, and then you save the day. That satisfy you, Paladin?”

Anger bloomed on his face, before he looked away and sighed. “We can’t just leave it like this. Give me your canisters.”

She seemed to want to ask why, clipping the dangling cans from her belt and handing them to him. “This should keep them on their side, for at least a while.” He flicked the caps open, throwing the pack into the jaws of the metal dragon, which probably wasn’t a dragon, likely the visage of the daemon who’d been summoned. The canisters landed with a clatter of steel, popping and hissing, soon making the forge look like it really was breathing fire the way the smoke bellowed about.

“I think we’re close to getting out of here,” the lizard said, pinching her nostrils between two fingers. “I see light up ahead.”

She was right, a blue hue of illumination highlighting the square hall of the passage in the north wall of the forge. Raynor gave the portal one last glare before following her out.

He had to wait for a moment for his eyes to adjust to the natural light, being stuck underground for longer than he thought. A large pane of glass set up high above the landing let a beam of light shine on the staircase leading out of the dungeons.

The space was comfortably wide, occupied by benches and overturned chairs flanked by a long desk, all of which was overlooked by a balcony curving along the east and north walls. The space reminded him of an office lobby – perhaps the estate had multiple entrances?

Shaggy carpet covered the floor, torn up in some places as if a tyger had come rampaging through. Potted plants filled the corners, a few sections of the walls criss-crossed with white beams, where vines grew in collected squares. If they weren’t rotten and dead, the place would have looked half-decent.

“Fresh air at last,” the lizard said, giving her arms a stretch. “Now, where are the others at?”

“I think we should- did you hear something?”

Off to the side, a set of bookshelves taller than he was leaned against the wall. He could have sworn he heard a voice from over there.

“No?” Kylin followed him as he approached the shelves like they were about to sprout legs and attack. “Probably just the wind, Raines.”

“I don’t think so.” The spines of a hundred books stared back at him, most written in common, but a few were written in the Ancient tongue. The owner had to have been knowledgeable indeed to display them so flippantly, then again it could have been for decorative purposes to show off to guests.

He pulled one of the tomes back at a forty-five-degree angle, Kylin failing to suppress a snicker from behind him.

“What,” she laughed. “you think some secret passage is going to appear out of-”

He pulled at the edge of the bookcase, and it gave, sliding back on a set of hidden rails beneath. Kylin’s mouth curved into an ‘o’ of surprise as a dark interior greeted them, Raynor having no time to scold her when a face stared back at him from the shadows.

“Master!” it said, a body coming forward. Raynor felt arms wrap around his shoulders, the man squeezing him into a hug. He would have been alarmed if the stranger hadn’t had the muscle mass of a starved mouse. His clothes were dirty and ragged, colourless against his pale skin, Raynor grimacing as the filthy stranger’s body odour washed over him. “Thank goodness, master! We thought the aliens had found us!”

“Alright, that’s close enough,” Raynor said, gently shoving the man off. From behind him two, three, then four more people poked their heads into the light, two men and three women in total, each one thinner than the last. Some of them had scratches on their arms and legs – claw marks from the bugs, he guessed. “Who are you people?”

“We’re but servants! At least, until the aliens came.” The man who’d hugged him looked over at Kylin, his eyes going wide. “And mistress! Oh, I knew help would come! I never doubted, never!”

He opened his arms wide, preparing another bear hug, but Kylin held out a halting hand. “Ah-ah. Filthy hands to yourself, thank you.”

The man bowed, as submissive as a servant that he claimed to be. They all looked up at her, expressions of hope blooming on their faces. Raynor remembered going wide-eyed the first time he’d seen a lizard too.

“How long have you been in there?” he asked, snapping his fingers to get their attention.

“Ten rats worth of dinners, after we ran out of fruits,” one of the women said, pointing behind her. Raynor shivered when he saw little bones in the corners of the tight space. “I’m sorry master, we dared not see the light of day with the aliens about. Are they gone?”

“They’re bugs, not aliens,” Raynor said, though he guessed it mattered little. “We’ve taken out a few nests, but there’s still plenty around.”

“Have you destroyed the princess?” the first man asked. Raynor raised an eyebrow at him.

“Princess?”

“She’s bigger than the others, two Daisy’s tall!” He pointed at the woman on the right, who was probably named Daisy. “Nasty thing chewed through everyone and ate their insides. It likes to roost in the manor.

“Tarantors don’t grow that big. Is it even a bug?”

The man considered his words. “No and yes. The other aliens respect her. She’s armoured, but bleeds, saw so myself when Clem rammed a poke through its side. She did not like that.”

“It could be a belcher,” Kylin said, nudging Raynor with an elbow. “my swamps are full of them. Then again I don’t think they’d get along with bugs.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll have to kill it anyway if we want our pay.” He turned to the servants, each one looking older than he was, and yet as helpless as ten-year old’s. Before he could speak, Raynor heard footsteps to his left.

From one of the doorways walked in a few familiar faces. Diego at the front, Callum and a few guards behind him. Their weapons were drawn, and there was blood, both human and not, staining their cloaks. “Welcome back, shield,” Diego said, eyeing the group of servants warily. “And who are these people?”

“We maintain the house, master! Mistress and master saved us!” The man ran over and gripped Diego in a tight hug, undeterred even as the guards pointed their weapons at him.

“Careful, Dee, Huggy’s got a real social distancing problem,” Kylin said, helpfully.

More forceful than Raynor was, Diego pushed the man aside. “Are there any more, or just these five?”

Raynor took a second to realise he was talking to him. “Just these, so far.”

“You,” Diego said, pointing at one of his guards. “Escort them back to the fence, don’t let them out of your sight.

“Yes, sir.” The guard motioned the group of servants to follow.

“Do you have any food, mistress? Masters?” the woman who’d been eating rats asked. Raynor pitied her, reaching into his pack and offering her a hunk of cheese, which she gobbled up in two seconds.

Raynor noticed he was the only one who’d offered, Kylin smiling at him when their eyes met. Once the servants were gone along with their guard, Diego got Raynor’s attention. “I see your weapons are bloodied. Are the dungeons cleared out?”

The image of the forge came and went, Raynor sharing a glance with the lizard, the woman shaking her head very slightly.

“Yes,” he said. “We both need more canisters, if you have them.”

“I do.” He handed Raynor another pack, tossing Kylin one was well, who caught it like it was an incoming turd, her face taut in disgust. “How many plates have you recovered?” the old man asked.

Raynor blinked, then remembered the bounties on the bug plates. He could almost hear Kylin’s laughter. That was how she knew he was new at this, or at least one of the reasons. He’d never bothered to collect a single one.

“Almost a dozen,” he lied.

Diego nodded, the number impressing him. “So those slaves were just hiding out in there?” The old man examined the siding bookcase. “Strange that they survived for so long. I was under the impression the estate was uninhabited.”

“There’s another thing,” Raynor said, Diego looking at him. “The bugs down there, they were a lot stronger than I thought they’d be. Unless we destroyed their brains they would just keep getting up.”

“We’ve seen the same up here,” Diego replied. “Raloph reported a few casualties on his end. I sent the greenskin over to help, since we’ve taken no losses yet. We should be vigilant.”

“Don’t forget what Huggy said about the princess,” Kylin added. “Apparently some super-bug is out here.”

“You believe that slave?” Diego asked. “The man was clearly delusional.”

“Doesn’t mean his eyes don’t work,” she replied. “He’s been here far longer than you have. This is one of the few times I think listening is a good idea.”

Diego looked between the lizard and Raynor, adjusting one of his buttons as he thought. “Stay in groups from now on. There’s still the villa north of us that we need to clear, that you need to clear. The rest of the mercs went ahead earlier – go and join them, and once the villa is clear, move out to the manor. You’ll know it where you see it.”

“Are you coming with?” Callum asked.

“I need to survey the estate, and clean up any nests you might miss. We’ll follow you at a distance. Now get going.”

“Cool, you wait here, sir,” Kylin said. It was obvious her concern was a front, the old man waiting with his guard while the three mercenaries went ahead into the danger. When they were out of earshot she said, “What’s the point of coming with us if he just hangs back? I’d feel better if he just stayed at the camp.”

“Maybe he’s making sure we’re not slacking off in the clean up,” Callum said.

“His guards could have done that for him,” she replied.

“People like him always like to watch,” Raynor said. “Can’t trust us even if we sign his papers.”

“Have a bad history with authority, Raines?” Kylin asked.

“You could say that.”

Callum glanced between them, quite out of the loop as the two exchanged knowing looks.

The trio moved to the far end of the lobby, which was open-planned, the musky scent of the swamp filling his nose. A gravel path overgrown with weeds led from the building into a courtyard, where the path forked round a central pillar with yet another gargoyle perched atop a pylon of stone, its iron gaze seeming to follow the trio as the circled its base. Above them, sheets of leaves creeped along the edges of the roofs, flapping about in the breeze like green flags.

Across the courtyard sat a column of wall, its surface cut here and there by long slits that rose all the way to the roof, windows and the occasional balcony pocketing the stretch of cobblestone that curved out of sight to the left and right.

“Must be the villa” Callum noted. “Just how many people lived in this estate? And why? This place is out in the middle of nowhere, rife with bugs and muck and crap. No offence, Kylin.”

“What’s the point of saying no offence right after saying something offensive?” the lizard asked. “What do you humans have against the outdoors anyway? The swamps are quiet, and you don’t have to deal with laws or Paladins breathing down your throat all the time.”

It was a wonder Callum hadn’t immediately caught on yet, the way the lizard nudged Raynor with an elbow when she said Paladin.

They moved through one of the doors into the villa, greeted by a living space in remarkable condition. There were dressers lined against walls, potted plants in the corners, furniture neatly spaced out, and a large dining table in the middle. A small family could live quite comfortably here.

A few angled walls divided the space into smaller sections, Raynor coming across a bathroom, the washing basin a little mouldy but otherwise intact. Other, near identical setups lay to the north and east exits of the living area, sectioned off by doors, one of which was busted down. Raynor came across a bedroom with the sheets ripped apart, but spaced at just the right angle to suggest it was a guest room.

“Pretty lavish,” Raynor commented, Callum appearing from round the corner behind him.

“The whole block looks like this. Guess the owners expected regular company.” Callum held something up in his hand. “Check this out – shampoo!”

“Sham-what?” Kylin asked, eyeing the bottle as Callum put it in his pack.

“Shampoo is like soap for the hair,” Raynor explained. “You don’t see it too often these days – valuable stuff. Never heard of it?”

“Lizards have no need for soap,” she said. “the scales can’t absorb it.”

“We can tell. Or maybe we can smell would be a better way to put it.” Callum sniffed and pulled a face.

“You’re one to talk,” Kylin snapped. “Real men shouldn’t need to smell like flowers. The musk of nature is all the fragrance you need.”

“There’s a ball of shit between your dewclaw.”

“I-I put that there.” She hid one leg behind the other.

They moved into the next room to the north, where four more portals branched off into similar living spaces. The more they explored the more Raynor drew up a mental layout of the villa. From above, the complex must have looked like a cluster of squares, arranged in a three-by-three pattern, the central room more spacious and functional than its surrounding living quarters. Callum and Kylin moved off to rummage through the cupboards sitting against the walls, and Raynor join them, moving to the biggest desk in the room, situated in the very middle of the section.

Moving a chair out of the way, he noted the table was clustered with paperweights and folders, all empty when he flicked through a couple. He opened the drawers of the desk, working his way down and frowning at their emptiness. Someone had packed up almost everything. Almost. In the lowest drawer he found something, a crumpled-up slip of parchment. He flattened it against the desk, rubbing at the edges with his hand as he tried to make out the messy handwriting. It was a letter.

Dear Mistress,

On behalf of the A.A. we would like to thank you for your order of two crates worth of Royal Vinca. Please find along with this letter your receipt and a one-time use code that will take a quarter off the price from your next order, as a personal thank you for supporting our small business. We at the Adept call this new concept a ‘Price reduction phrase’, to further encourage future deals between you and our business.

Good luck in your experiments, and as we say – there are no wrong combinations!

Erwin Scheu.

This Erwin hadn’t been brewing for very long, Raynor thought, if that was their motto. Royal Vinca was a very rare, very powerful augmenter in alchemy, and two crates of it wouldn’t be cheap. Was that what was inside those crates he’d found back in the dungeons? They’d been marked with A.A. as well, but where had it all gone? Surely he would have seen some evidence of it by now.

“Find anything good?” Callum asked, his pack bulging from how much stuff he squeezed into the pockets.

“Not really.” Raynor set the letter down, moving round the desk. “Any bugs?”

“No. I popped a canister in that other room just in case – but I think we can move on.”

“Already?” Kylin asked, giving the room a once over. “I quite like it in here. Maybe I should ask Diego if I can rent out a room.”

“What are you, eighty? This is the kind of place my grandmother would live in.” Callum nodded at a coach. “Look at the pillows, they’re covered in roses.”

“I’m thirty-five now, halfway to forty,” Kylin said. “And what would you know about décor?”

“I thought you prefer the outdoors?” Raynor asked.

The lizard nodded. “Doesn’t mean I hate four walls and a roof.”

The two men shared a quick glance, both of them suspicious, but neither one commenting on it.

They patrolled through to the far end of the villa, coming to a stop before a hatch and a ladder, and a staircase leading up – the only building in the villa more than one floor tall so far. Raynor looked down at the basement like it was an old adversary, the sound of flicking wings emanating from the darkness.

“It’ll be a bit time-consuming for us all to go down there,” Callum suggested, Raynor glancing up at him. “We should split up.”

“What a splendid idea that has never gone wrong once in history,” Kylin said. “But your right. Basement can’t be as big as the dungeons. Shot not!” she suddenly said, the men looking at her like she’d spoken another language.

“Don’t lizards have nightvision?” Callum asked.

“Not me. Rare birth defect.” She looked between the two, neither one believing her. “What? Don’t tell me you boys would make a damsel go down into the dark on her own?”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t.” Callum gestured at the ladder. “Off you go then, Kylin.

“I’ll do it.” Raynor brought a hand up to his mouth, speaking a few hushed words seemingly into his sleeve. Callum and Kylin watched in wonder as a small light, birthed from nothing, formed in his palm and hovered there like a tamed bug.

“You’re a magician too?” Kilyn fixed him with a stare, her blazing red eyes full of intent. Raynor looking away only seemed to amuse her. “You just keep getting more interesting by the minute.”

“You two go check upstairs, I’ll be back in five.” Raynor turned and gripped the ladder by the sides, the light following him down, tethered to his very presence.

“Watch out for bugs!” Kylin called down.

“Very helpful,” he said. He landed on the ground, kicking up a little cloud of dust. He looked up and saw his companions move out of the light, Kylin’s tail hanging over the hatch for a little longer than it should have.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention to yet more darkness. The basement stretched away in a thin corridor of stone, boxes full of useless garbage the only thing of note. His magelight was a bit more luminate than a standard torch, though sometimes his shadow would stretch on before him if the light started to lag behind him.

He reached for his belt, fumbling with a canister as he watched a pair of eggs writhe about ahead of him, the magelight catching their fleshy, pod-like shells.

As he tossed a canister at the eggs, he thought about that forge and why he hadn’t told Diego about it. Kylin’s reasons had given him pause, but if she knew even half the things he did about Scourge she wouldn’t have been so defensive about concealing the forge. And yet she’d been so insistent that they weren’t wholly evil creatures, that whole talk about speaking with a daemon making him huff in amusement. She couldn’t be completely oblivious, despite claiming to have lived out here in the swamps for years, perhaps longer.

Nothing about her added up, and he needed, no, wanted to know more about her – purely for investigative reasons of course.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a scuffle, the sound of an arrow piercing the air from somewhere above. Checking there were no more eggs, he hurried back up to the ladder and climbed out, the magelight flickering away when he dismissed it with a word.

Dashing up the stairs, he saw an open door and moved inside. A scene of chaos lay before him, two large windows on the north wall lighting up a skirmish – Callum struggling to fend off a pair of bugs, stood beside the mattress of a large bed, while Kylin was off to the left, busy with three of her own insects, the lizard using an arrow like a dagger, holding it in a backwards grip and she buried it into the thorax of a bug, ducking under the swiping claws of another before bashing it aside with her bow.

Using such primitive weapons with an uncanny grace gave her a primal, huntress-like radiance, Raynor having to stop himself from staring as he readied his sword and shield, leading in with a charge as he barrelled to Callum’s aid. He was having a tougher time then she was.

He caught a bug in his charge, squashing it between the far wall and his shield, the poor insect’s body crumpling into a ball from the impact. Raynor spun round, helping Callum finish of the last bug with a clean cut through its torso.

Giving him a grateful nod, Callum crossed the room, stabbing a bug through the back as Kylin found herself being herded into a corner, a flicker of concern coming over her usually aloof features.

The sound like that of a bursting bubble made Raynor look up, seeing for the first time a dozen eggs covering the ceiling of the bedroom. Sliding free from an egg, another bug joined the fray, the bugs dividing up so all three of the mercenaries were occupied.

“Popping smoke!” Callum yelled over the clanging of metal.

“No, wait!” Kylin shouted back, but the man ignored her, slamming the canister down like he was scoring a point in a sports game. It was certainly one way to release the smoke inside. The can bloomed apart in a shower of ripped metal, a mushroom cloud of smog rising slowly from the impact.

Bugs bled ichor, blades swung in high arcs and Kylin suffocated. The filter of smoke washed over their eyes as the bugs began to thin until only one was left.

Callum finished it off, pulling his spear free, the blade coming back wet with blood the colour of pus. “Damn it, Kylin!” he growled, turning on the lizard, whom looked left and right sheepishly. “I said start shooting after I surveyed the room.”

“Potato tomato, Calcium.” She sniffed as if she were coming down with a cold, her next words forming out of a cough “Ack- we got them all, didn’t we?”

“That’s not how it goes,” Callum said. “It’s potato, potahto. It’s one of those, um… shit, what are they called?”

“Idioms?” Raynor tried.

“Yeah, those. You say potato twice or tomato twice, not both.”

“You’re an idiom,” Kylin snapped, sneezing as she covered her snout. “Can we please- *cough*– please argue about this outside? My lungs are killing me here.”

The two, healthy humans followed the wheezing lizard back onto the landing. When Raynor asked if he wanted to go and collect the bug plates, Callum waved an arm.

“Already loaded with enough crap, I’m all set. What about you two?”

“Not a whole lot of pockets on this thing,” Kylin said, gesturing to her belt and chest rigging. “I’ll come back later.”

“So will I,” Raynor said. “Let’s go find the others.”

They made their way down to the ground floor and moved on, stepping round the hatch which was coughing up a small cloud of smoke. Kylin gestured at it with a claw as they passed. “Anything down there?”

“Take a guess,” he said. “Have either of you seen a place like this before? The way it’s built, the architecture, layout… something about it just seems wrong.”

“All the actual architects must have taken a holiday when this place was built,” Callum said. “Like a city of the Ancients or something, no discernible logic at all.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Kylin asked. “Lizard cities are built much the same way – they develop so quick you can’t account for everything. Plus there’s not exactly any boundaries with all this marshland.”

“Still,” Raynor said. “Wish I asked those servants about the owner. He must be a wild character.”

“She, you mean,” Callum said. Raynor and Kylin looked at him, brows raised. The man explained. “Look around us. Ever since the greenhouses the place has been arranged very particularly. I’ve lived with my missus for years – I know a woman’s touch when I see one.”

It took Raynor a second, then it hit him. As much as the rooms had been random as a whole, they’d been organised when looked at individually. The way the furniture was placed, the walls painted just the right colour, the curtains matching. The sheer dilapidation had put him off. Even now the room they passed through was decorative, with countertops packed with fruit bowls, flower pots in the corners, paintings lined up neatly.

“You’re right,” Raynor said. “Still, mistress or not, the place is a quirk or two away from being a full-on madhouse.”

For another fifteen minutes they walked on, once coming across a lone bug seeming to be patrolling the villa, but the journey went otherwise uncontested. Then the sounds of clashing steel reached their ears, the noise alarming Raynor from his thoughts.

“That must be the others!” Callum said, running ahead.

They followed him round one bend, then another, another lobby opening up into a space big enough to fit a wagon inside. The western wall opened up into the outside world, where a patio stretching on for a dozen meters met the bend of a path that curved out of view. The space reminded Raynor of a stable, with two pens to one that may have held horses or some other large animal inside, judging by the empty troughs within them.

“Hraaah!” The dwarf Orik raised an axe over his head, the curved blade severing the legs of a bug flittering above him. There were tens of bugs swarming in from the outside, crawling over the edges of the threshold at all angles, swarming down on the lone merc, who stood between a pair of bloodied bodies.

“We’ve come to save you, midget!” Kylin said, drawing her bow off her shoulder.

Callum raced forward, Raynor following after. An arrow sped past his left cheek and brought a bug crashing down. Whether the lizard did that to scare him or not, he didn’t have time to look round and ask, charging into the fray to help the outnumbered dwarf.

They formed a line, Orik in the middle, Raynor and Callum to his left and right, careful not to get caught in the way of Orik’s wide swings. Kylin covered their flanks, and between them almost a dozen bugs fell within a matter of moments.

But for every dead insect, another was there to replace it. The world outside almost blackened by their numbers. They were like a swarm of locusts, coming in with no regard for their own lives, relying on the power of numbers to overwhelm the defenders.

“We need to fall back!” Raynor cried, teeth pulled back in a snarl as he rammed his sword into a bug’s face, pulling it down and carving the bug up from forehead to groin.

“Ta’ where?” Orik asked, his rolling accent starting to lose its gruff. “They’ll jus’ keep followin’ us! We must shut that door!”

Raynor followed his gaze up. Rolled up above the threshold was a curving sheet of colourless metal, its width the same as that of the portal. Two chains on either end stood taught against the wall, suspended maybe halfway down by hooks mounted over the plaster.

As if sensing their plan, the bugs redoubled their swarm, giving them no breathing room, Raynor finding himself stepping back along with the others. “Kylin!” he called. “The chains!”

“What?” the lizard yelled back. Though he couldn’t look round, he could tell she was focusing hard, sometimes two arrows flying over his shoulders as she emptied her quiver into the flying mass, never missing once.

“Shoot the chains!”

A bug hugged itself against his shield, Raynor’s heels slipping as the creature tried to throw him off balance. The weight released when an arrow zipped past and landed between the thing’s big eyes, the plates of its face crunching wetly.

“You think that’ll actually work, numb-nuts?” the lizard asked.

“Just do it!”

He didn’t know how he could spare the concentration, but he watched the arrow fly with alien precision, the barbed head cutting into the place where the hook met the wall, its weakest point. The arrow bounced away with an audible boink~! Hitting the ground and bouncing once before settling.

“Any more great plans?” she asked.

“No!” He flinched when Orik swiped from right to left, cutting down three bugs in one swing, their blood drawing lines in the air, some of it splattering over Raynor’s face. “W-Wait, smoke! Throw smoke!”

“No way, that shit’ll mess up my aim and my lungs.”

“Kylin!”

Bugs were plucked from the air with uncanny precision, Kylin never missing a beat as the wire of her bow snapped again and again. The Tarantors just kept coming, and soon Raynor was starting to tire, his heart sinking when he saw a giant shadow through the dozens of wings surrounding him. The princess, he thought, starting to mouth a prayer before realising it would be hopeless in more ways than one.

But the mass was no insect. Green arms budging with muscles charged through the swarm, golden armour shining as the orc threw a couple of bugs off his shoulders. They landed on him like he was a walking pincushion, claws digging into any bit of flesh they could find.

“Forward!” Orik yelled, the sight of an ally boosting their morale. They fought through, Hrol ripping the chains off the wall like they were nothing, going to a knee as he struggled to pull the rolling door down with his bare hands.

It groaned in protest, rusting sheets squeaking as the door closed inch by inch. Raynor dropped his weapons and helped the orc out, grunting in effort even though it didn’t feel like he was helping the big orc much at all. The door reached their shins, too low for a spear to work, Callum adding his strength to the effort, while Orik held the bugs back.

With one final pull, the door rolled down to its limit, stopping just short of the floor by a bug that jammed its head into the gap at the last second. Raynor kicked in its face in, and the door slammed down with a bang. The men and the orc fell back in a heap, the greenskin huffing like an angry bull. The door dented inward as the bugs threw themselves at the barrier, the scratches eventually stopping as they gave up.

“Thanks, big guy,” Raynor said. The orc looked down at him and huffed.

“Yeah, better late than never.” Callum fake-punched Hrol’s arm, his fingers coming back wet. “Oh. You’re bleeding hard. You alright?”

Hrol nodded, standing up with a little effort. Raynor reckoned it would take more than a few bugs to bring down a fully grown orc.

“I thought Dee sent you to help team pretty boy?” Kylin asked, tugging an arrow free from the corpse of a bug. Hrol blinked at her.

“She means Raloph’s group,” Raynor explained.

Hrol bobbed his head left and right.

“He sent you back?”

Hrol nodded.

“Why?”

His shoulders rose and fell.

“Well we’re glad to have you,” Callum said.

“Here here,” Orik added.

“Make sure these bugs stay dead,” Raynor warned. “They’re tough, they can get back up if you don’t make sure.”

They went round and one by one did the deed, the air filling with the sound of breaking bones and smashed chitin. Kylin seemed more interested in retrieving her arrows then helping out, Raynor catching her eye after he stomped down on his fifth bug.

“Problem?” she asked.

“A big one,” he said, coming over. “I told you to throw smoke.”

“And I told you, that would have ruined my aim.”

“If you were the one surrounded and not sitting at the back-”

“But I wasn’t,” she said, frowning suspiciously.

Raynor couldn’t believe what she was saying. “If Hrol hadn’t shown up, not even another hundred arrows would have mattered.”

“Come on, you’re not dead, are you? Don’t get so upset about what could have been, Paladin. It’s bad for your health.”

He clenched a fist, readying a verbal jab at her, when he was cut off by the dwarf clearing his throat.

“If yer both done,” Orik said, switching his axe from left hand to right. “I’d like ta get back to the boss, and as far from that door as possible.”

“No can do,” Callum explained. “Boss wants us to clear a way to the manor, right through that swarm.”

Chitin banged against the outside of the metal door, nails scratching across the tin, the group turning in unison when a louder bang echoed through the room.

“Let’s wait and see if they give up,” Callum offered, moving over to a corner. Orik and Hrol did likewise, putting as much distance between each other as they sat and waited. Kylin smirked at Raynor over her shoulder as she went over to the doorway they’d come in from, leaning against it as she fiddled with her quiver.

Raynor picked his own spot folding his arms over his chest, blinking when he heard the sound of paper unwrapping over the incessant banging on the roller door. The orc had produced what looked like a steak from one of his pouches, munching away quietly. The sight made his stomach grumble, and Raynor fished for his own ration.

His eyes kept lingering over to the lizard, who kept watch over the way they’d come. None of the others seemed interested in talk, and Raynor felt increasingly uncomfortable the more he just stood there. Swallowing his pride, he leant off the wall and went over to her, gesturing at her.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” he said. “I know you can’t handle the smoke like we can, and you were a big help just now.”

She gave him a look, perhaps a shred of apprehension hidden beneath her usual flaunting expression. “Mm. Accepted. On one condition.”

There it was, Raynor waving for her to go on.

“Tell me what’s got your britches in a twist. Are you hung up about your days as a Paladin?”

“I’m not ‘hung up’ on anything. Well, I am, but… When you say it that way it makes it sound stupid, childish.”

“Then help me understand.”

He expected her to add on some little quip, watching her face carefully for any hint of trickery. If there was any, she kept it to herself, almost like she was… genuine. The thought stirred something in his chest. “Why are you so interested in my past anyway, my lady?”

“Why are you so interested in the estate?”

He considered his answer for a second. “You saw the forge. A link to Scourge, right in the middle of a swamp, built in an estate whose original owners are long gone? I’ve always been drawn to mysteries.”

“And have you ever thought, that perhaps we share that common trait? Mysteries intrigue me too.”

“Then why aren’t you trying to get to the bottom of this place?”

“We did, literally, remember? But I prefer the mysteries that walk on two legs.”

He had to be a moron to not figure out what she meant by that, but he hadn’t exactly reciprocated her advances – if there actually were any now that he thought about it. Maybe he’d been reading her social cues all wrong – he was no expert on lizard-folk.

“When I was a… Paladin, I was taught from day one that we would fight for the people, bring order back to a realm that had succumbed to chaos. I gave everything I had to the Directive. I embraced their teachings and scriptures and laws. I was a hand of the gods. I was devout. And then when it came to actually fighting for the people…” He shook his head. “It was all wrong. Do you have any idea what that’s like? To have everything you’ve worked your whole life for, turn out to be nothing but a lie from the very beginning?”

“No.”

He was too absorbed to notice her oddly abrupt answer. “Decades of my life, and I lost everything I cared about. I was too busy ‘serving’ the people to look after those who needed me, the real me. That’s how brainwashed I was. Too late did I realise it was all just… just a waste.”

“… So it is childish.”

Raynor’s jaw dropped. He’d never felt so emotional, so exposed, and the lizard’s words cut into his heart. “Y-You don’t under-”

“No no let me finish. How long’s it been since you left? Years?”

“Three years.”

“Right, three whole years, and you mope about like it happened yesterday.”

“That was my life you’re talking about.”

“That’s right, waaas,” she said, dragging the word into three syllables. “You ended it the day you walked from the Directive, but you’re still holding on! Your sword, your armour, your refusal to admit your past. You’re ignoring it, but holding onto it at the same time. I’m impressed you’re still able to stay sane, much less live with yourself.”

He’d expected that if he ever did confess to someone, they’d reciprocate with sympathy, but Kylin was showing anything but. It should have made him angry, but it didn’t.

“Your Directive was wrong,” she continued. “But so were you. You need to forget the scriptures and their ‘rules’, and start living for yourself. You’ll start to see they were wrong about more than just their cause. Like Scourge, for example. Bury it, and move on.”

“I…” He sighed, unsure of how to respond. He saw it now, all this time after he’d left, he’d still carried the Paladin’s ways with him, the only evidence he needed right there in front of him. Kylin had seen it the moment they’d met, in a day concluding what he hadn’t been aware of for years.

“I don’t think I can,” he said.

“Why not? Was it something the Directive made you do, or something else?”

Raynor fell silent, the line of questioning reaching a point he didn’t want to cross. He sighed again. “I’ve been such a fool,” he said.

“Certainly have,” the lizard said, Raynor’s shoulders sagging at that. “Fine, fine, it wasn’t all your fault. Just mostly,” she added with a grin.

“I know,” he admitted. “I just… wish it hadn’t taken me so long to realise I was on the wrong path.”

“I’ve been down a lot of bad roads too,” Kylin said. “but I think that’s what they’re there for, you know? Make you realise what’s right and what’s not. Be good if there was another way, but there’s just not.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, Kylin catching his lingering gaze. Both her words and the way she looked at him told him she understood him. He felt a new appreciation for her, someone he felt he could confide in. Granted, she was the only person he had discussed his past with, but it was the thought that counted.

“I’d never thought I’d be lecturing a Paladin about morals,” she chuckled. “This realm is crazy.”

“That it is,” he said, smiling back. He reached over and touched her arm. “Thank you, Kylin. I… needed to get that off my chest.”

She looked down at his hand, her tail flicking side to side behind her. Nothing was said, she just smirked like she always did, Raynor letting her go with an awkward cough.

“Buggers have gone quiet,” Orik noted, the dwarf getting up and putting an ear against the roller door. “Hmm. Not much buzzin’ out thar’.”

“Think they’ve buggered off, eh?” Callum asked. The group gave him a collective look of disappointment. The orc huffed in what barely passed for amusement. “Thanks, Hrol,” Callum said. “So what’s the plan? Do we head out this way?”

“We should get moving,” Raynor said. “Diego sees us taking a break, I doubt he’ll be pleased.”

“And the swarm?” Callum asked. Kylin elbowed him as she passed him by.

“What about it? They’re just bugs. Mutant, flesh-eating bugs from Scourge that can and have brought down armed men.” She blinked. “Huh. Suddenly I’m not so confident.”

“We stick together like glue,” Raynor said. “watch each other’s blind spots. I’ll go first-” He tapped at his shield. “Hrol, can you get this door open?”

Hrol nodded, Raynor steeping aside as the orc gripped the bottom of the steel barrier. The mercs stacked up on either side of him, tips of their weapons aimed at the soon-to-be gap. Raynor told him to go, and the orc raised his arms, huge muscles bulging beneath his thick green hide.

Raynor winced as metal ground against metal, the whining sound very loud in the confines of the room. Raynor braced himself, ready to see a hundred insectoid hands grab at his boots, but his worry was in vain. Inch by inch the orc lifted the door back up, the afternoon sun spilling into the room, creating a sharp box of light at their feet.

Raynor stepped out, cold wind blowing his hair back as he stepped over the various bodies of the bugs felled by arrow and sword. He grimaced at the few humans dotted about the pile of dead.

A path curved out from the patio towards the north, bending out of view behind a strip of buildings on the path’s left. To the right of it was a fence, at least three men tall, the numerous conjoined poles tipped with little arrowhead spikes. It sat upon a low wall that kept the mush of the swamps at bay, the stones curving in sync with the path.

Overlooking this was a dark shape in the backdrop, rising up from a peninsula just off to the west, the block of blackness contrasting with the white sky. Through the glare Raynor could make out windows and balconies, topped with armoured turrets like those one would find on a castle. Diego was right, the manor was hard to miss, the way it seemed to loom over the rest of the estate.

The rest of the group filed out after him, Hrol bringing up the rear when they were all outside. Callum crouched down beside one the dead elves. Raynor thought he was about to loot the man, but Callum just looked him over once before saying, “You think we should bring the bodies?”

“Leave em’,” Orik said. “Bein’ weighed down now will only get you killed.”

“Alright, alright…”

Taking the lead, Raynor and the group marched down the path. If it ringed the entire estate, it would lead them right to the manor if they kept following it. Through the cracks of the pavement weeds and grass sprouted out, the swamp ready to reclaim its land. The flittering of wings was like an eery background noise with no discernible direction, the group on edge as they rounded the bend.

“Eyes up, boys,” Kylin said. “Open sky like this, they could drop down us like falling coconuts.”

It was hard to keep his eyes open against the glare, Raynor holding his shield against his stomach. The safety of numbers was comforting, everyone keeping one section of the compass under a watchful eye as they continued on, armour clanking and packs shuffling.

After a few tense minutes, the sounds of wings grew quiet. Perhaps the swarm was still around the villa, looking for other ways inside. Some of the mercs must have thought the same, the tension oozing away as they put distance between them and the villa.

“Hey, Orik,” Callum began. “Since you’re out here for glory, you mind if I take some of your share after we’re done?”

“Of course not,” Orik muttered.

“But you said you don’t live for money! We do.” Callum gestured at all of them.

“One canno’ live on glory alone. You know how much a good tankard of ale costs these days?”

“Hypocrite,” Callum said, looking over his shoulder. “What about you, greenskin? What’s an orc need all that cash for?”

“Body wash, hopefully,” Kylin suggested with a sniff. Raynor suppressed the beginnings of a snort at that.

The orc grumbled something, not words, just a low rumble that might have been a show of intimidation. “So a maybe, then?” Callum said. “Alright.” His gaze fell on the others.

“Don’t look at me,” Kylin said. “I’m with the midget, you don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve had a strong pint.”

“Do you have to keep calling him that?” Raynor asked.

“Tha’ walkin’ iguana speaks true,” Orik replied, Raynor shrugging his pauldrons. The path turned right, the structures spacing out now to leave large yards between them, each space occupied by crumbling fence posts and large pools of rainwater.

“What about you, Raynor?” Callum asked. “Think you can spare some change?”

“Yeah, what’s a man like you got to spend gold on?” Kylin asked, tapping his shoulder from behind with a claw.

“A lot of things,” he replied cryptically.

“Wow, how mysterious, oooo…” Kylin rolled her eyes. He didn’t see this, but he could tell.

“Yeah, sounds like an innuendo if you ask me,” Callum said.

“I travel a lot,” Raynor said, relenting when Kylin snickered at that. “Border tolls have gone up, price of rations, too. A pay like this and I won’t have to stop for a long while.”

“Can’t believe we’ve got to pay to cross between provinces,” Callum said. “Should be set for a few months with this pay, though.”

“More like a few weeks, at the rates they’re charging,” Raynor said, Callum nodding in agreement.

The path oriented them so the manor was straight ahead, the sun lowering behind its swept roof. Up ahead an assortment of buildings arranged in a wedge flanked either side of the path, the windows shattered and the bricks displaced as vines crept up from the surrounding soil.

A small plume of smoke trailed out from one of the windows on the left, the group stopping to examine it. “Maybe Raloph’s group came through here,” Callum noted. “We’re running a bit behind.”

“Blame the guy who fell through two whole floors,” Kylin said. Raynor frowned at her.

“Not my fault the mansion was- what was that?”

When he said mansion, something that sounded like a shattered plate rang out from the building to their right, the group going quiet as the background noise of buzzing wings came to the fore.

“Above us!” Orik yelled. Raynor turned his eyes up, and saw a bug crawling through one of the upper floor windows, stretching its wings as it dropped down in the middle of the group. It clicked its mandibles together, the sound like someone was mashing their teeth together. It dashed for Orik, but the dwarf swatted it aside with the haft of his axe.

The bug wasn’t alone. Like maggots emerging from wounds, the bugs crawled out from the holes in the structures, crashing down on the band of mercs from all sides. Raynor let the one closest to him impale itself upon his sword, kicking the corpse off as he dropped into a defensive stance.

A wall of carapace and wings wrapped around the mercs, claws and swords from either side lashing out at one another. The swarm had set up the perfect ambush, letting the mercs come to them after a brief lull. The air above the group was so rife with bugs they almost blackened the sky.

Even over the fluttering of wings, Kylin’s bow tensed loudly as she notched an arrow, letting it fly up into the chest of a bug that was diving down on her. With its momentum it crashed hard at her feet with a wet crunch. She plucked another arrow by its sheath, but even her amazing speed wasn’t enough, another bug landing on her shoulders and clawing at her neck.

She doubled over, throwing the creature off, then burying her foot into its throat. Once more she reached for an arrow, but the bugs seemed privy to her skill, forcing her into a melee with her bow as they flew at her from all sides.

“A little cover please, humans!” Kylin cried, using her bow like a bat and clocking a bug across its chin, sending the insect flying away where it crashed through a nearby window.

Everyone was too busy with their own problems. Raynor took a swing and missed a bug just dancing out of his reach, the thing trying to bait him away from his allies. From the corner of his eye he saw the orc using his bare hands to ward away the bugs, snatching two out of the air and mashing their faces together, the bug’s faces popping like grapes as he slammed them together with alarming force. Callum and Orik were almost invisible at this angle – they would be overrun if they didn’t do something.

“Make a circle!” Raynor yelled. “Form up around her!”

Desperate for direction, no one argued, backing up until their shoulders met, Orik pulling a disoriented Callum into line. From above they took on the shape of a compass, Callum on the north point, Orik to the east, Hrol and Raynor and the south and west, with Kylin at their middle. She had just enough room to move about between the men, ducking as a claw swiped at her from above, at last bringing an arrow to her bow.

Her chest puffing out, and drawing the wire across her breast, there was a loud thnk~! -as she fired a deadly shot into the swarm, already notching another arrow before her target even met the ground, gossamer wings furling up as the arrow pierced its heart.

Steel caught the light as weapons were brought down, the sound mingling with the grunts of effort and pain. Raynor saw over the corner of his shield, Callum swinging his spear from shoulder to shoulder, each arc knocking several bugs to the ground at once, using his weapon like a giant fly-swatter.

One of the insects caught the pole in its alien hands, bringing the weapon down as its kin took advantage of the opening. Callum pulled out a dagger, but as he went to stab one it caught the blade before it could connect, panic blazing in his eyes as two more bugs came up from behind the first.

“Move, Calcium!” Kylin ordered.

The man looked back and ducked, seeing the lizard had notched three arrows on the bow’s wire. She held it out in an underhand grip, and let go. The trio of arrows found their marks in each bug, sailing through the air Callum had just been standing in, heads covered in plates snapping back as arrows protruded from their eye sockets.

Raynor had no time to gawk at her uncanny ability, trying to balance himself between hiding behind his shield and striking out with his sword. Using what few precious seconds he could spare, he reached down to his belt and unhooked one of his many vials, ignoring the canisters Diego had given him – flicking the cap and letting the smoke out would take too long, he needed something with instant results.

Not even stopping to uncork the vial, he threw the vial underhand out towards the swarm. The glass tube rolled across the ground a few meters out, and then combusted outwards with a wave of fire.

A loud bang rumbled the very earth, eardrums ringing for a moment before sound returned. The swarm was dense enough to almost block out the path from view, and tens of bugs arced through the air from the detonation, the smell of burning flesh permeating the air, Hrol flinching when bits of chitin bounced off his helmet from above.

Raynor shielded his eyes, his armour and the rest of the group lit up by the yellows of the flames. They died away after a second, leaving a circular burn in the earth from where he’d thrown it. Any closer and he would have incinerated himself, but his aim was true.

“Come down an’ fight on tha’ ground, cowards!” Orik shouted, waving his axe fruitlessly up at his flying assailants. He made a sound that was half-panic, and half-warcry as the big orc lifted him up by the armpits, swinging him like a toy doll up at the swarm. Hrol used him like an extension of his own arm, pair after pair of insects felling beneath the dwarfs’ wild swings.

As Raynor went for another of his vials, the bugs reacted, acting like a hive-mind as they coordinated right when he was at his most vulnerable. One, two, then three of the insects drove themselves into his raised shield, Raynor burying his feet into the pavement. He grit his teeth as his muscles bulged from effort, and then he felt a sharp pain in his leg. He didn’t see it, but a bug had latched itself between the plates in his greaves and dug its claws into his skin.

He lost his balance, Raynor falling onto his back, feeling the hairs on the bug’s limbs crawl all over his body. One of the bugs straddled over his shield and raised its claws. He couldn’t feel the comforting grip of his sword- he must have dropped it – so he bundled up his gauntlet into a fist, and decked it across the jaw.

A few of its mandibles flew away like broken teeth, Raynor bashing with his shield, sending the thing flying off to his left. He heard claws rake across metal, looking down to see two of the bugs trying to pry off his armour. Another bug came up and tried to plunge its claws into his neck, Raynor fending it off, panic starting to set as he felt his armour begin to give. They were going to gut him alive.

The whistling of an arrow, and then the bug on his leg fell limp, a foot tipped with talons kicking off the bug sat on Raynor’s chest. The lizardess shot said bug dead before it even had a chance to get up. Raynor kicked off the last bug, feeling chitin crush beneath his foot as Kylin hauled him to his feet.

“Up you get, Paladin!”

He picked up his sword, the lizard shoving him back into line. They had to have slain ten bugs each, but the swarm was thick enough their whole world had turned into chitin and glassy wings, some of the more resilient bugs starting to get up, ignoring the arrows and cuts pocketing their small bodies.

“We can’t stay here!” Callum yelled, driving a bug into the ground with his spear.

“You don’t say!” Kylin answered. She never missed a beat, notching and loosing arrow after arrow. No matter how much the bugs flittered left or right, trying to throw off her aim, she always found her mark.

“We should get inside!” Callum said.

“Where tha’ buggers came from?” Orik asked. “Are you out of yer mind?”

“Someone’s coming!” Raynor called out. From the direction they had come from, Raynor could see the faint glow of torchlight, and soon heard the orderly march of armoured boots approaching. In the sparse moments the storm of leathery wings parted, he saw the glint of metal pikes raising to the skies. He couldn’t pick out Diego, but knew he was somewhere among the group of armoured men.

The bugs couldn’t decide which group to focus on, the mercs gaining some breathing room at last as the swarm split up to go after Diego’s group. There were still dozens of the things flying about, however, but the sight was a welcome one.

“Come on!” Raynor shouted, waving the guards over.

“No way!” one of them said. “You come to us, mercs!”

“Shall I shoot the coward, Raynor?” Kylin asked, flipping open one of the pouches on her chest, exposing a pocket of more arrows. She was going through her ammo at an alarming rate.

“Keep firing,” he told her, then to the others he said: “We need to move now or we’re dead. Hrol! You lead us over.”

If anyone could clear a path, it was the orc. Hrol nodded at him, huffing in a way that seemed almost excited. “Pivot clockwise,” Raynor said. “One step at a time until Hrol’s at the front. Don’t break formation!”

“Wh-Which way was clockwise again?” Callum asked.

“Right!” Kylin shouted. “Right right right right!” The men were akin to, well, the hands of a clock, rotating one slow step at a time so as to stay in their circle formation, Kylin covering them as they reorientated around her. They rotated until the orc faced the guards, the greenskin plucking the bugs right out of the air, his hands big enough to encompass their heads, which was exactly what he did.

“Argh! Unhand me!” Orik said. During the manoeuvre the bugs had gone for the dwarf, zipping under his flailing axe and clutching at Orik’s tunic. Four, five, then six bugs joined the first three’s efforts, wings blurring as they attempted to lift Orik from the ground.

Kylin leaned over, using Raynor’s shoulder to help steady her aim. She launched the best shot he’d ever seen, the arrow splitting open the carcass of one, carrying on into the bug behind it, before finally stopping in the chest of a third bug, impaling them all though their hearts. All three bugs dropped to the ground, and Orik landed to safety with a grunt, the rest giving up the idea.

They followed Hrol’s lead, one pace at a time as they focused on moving and fighting at the same time. A few moments, and they were close enough to make out the faces of their employer’s entourage, the guards opening up their ranks into two parallel lines, where the mercs fell in to join their defence.

With the power of numbers, the swarm began to visibly lose its strength. The guards covered the skies with upraised pikes, felling any aerial attack the swarm attempted. A few dozen more crashed into the line of men for one last-ditch effort, before the remaining bugs decided they’d had enough, spreading their wings and taking off into the air, flying back towards the villa, leaving just as quick as they’d come. Kylin sniped a few out of the air as they retreated, Raynor blinking at the lizard’s impressive aim.

The mercs doubled over, bloodied and out of breath. Even Hrol seemed exhausted, his chest rising and falling like a bellows as he wiped the yellow blood from his knuckles. Raynor felt something tap his armoured thigh, looking down to see it was Orik.

“Good thinkin’ back thar’,” the dwarf said. “Last time I was givin’ quick orders like tha’ was back in my army days.”

“Yeah, saved our butts with that circle move.” Callum gave him a heavy pat on the back. Raynor grinned back at them, not really sure how else to respond.

He saw Kylin smirking at him, delighting in the attention he clearly wasn’t quite used too. He got an idea. “Don’t forget our huntress over there,” he said. “our whole defence revolved around her, literally.”

“I do like being the centre of attention,” she replied with a smile.

“That shot you made was amazing,” Callum said. “I’ve never seen any bowman shoot three arrows at once like that.”

“Three is more than one,” she said, her smirk faltering when Hrol came up, peering down at her with his beady eyes. The orc gave her a pat on the back that almost broke her spine, the lizard releasing a surprised “Oof-!” -as the air expelled from her lungs.

“I think tha’ means ‘thank yer’’” Orik said, huffing in what was his version of a laugh.

Raynor’s attention drew away from the mercs, seeing Diego emerge from the back ranks of his guard. There wasn’t a scratch on him. The old man opened his mouth to say something, but stopped, reaching down to his belt where a bag hung on his hip.

The leather bag was glowing purple, Diego producing this strange source of light after unclipping the flap. He held out his palm, some sort of disk clutched in his gloved fingers. There were small concentric rings decorating the top, which bulged at the centre then flattened at the edges. Each ring was a band of pure purple, no wider than a fingernail.

Diego’s thumb fell over a protrusion, and he clicked it in. Wires sprouted from the disk in random intervals about the disk’s edges, their microscopical ends tipped with pointed needles like those of a syringe. The old man grimaced as they coiled over his fingers and dug into his flesh, some of the wires burying into his wrist, and more flowing down his arm, centimetres of the wires burying into his veins.

From above the disk rings, an image appeared, blue mist blurring into a shape Raynor recognised. It hovered there on a cone of light – an outstretched hand, and a face. It was Raloph, or at least an image of him. He was posed exactly like Diego was, a similar device clutched in his palm.

“What is it, captain?” Diego asked.

The image of Raloph bristled, the man looking into his own device. “We’re at the manor, sir.” His voice came through garbled, the disk imitating the man’s voice through unseen means.

“Good. Hold tight for a minute, we’re almost there.”

“There’s a problem, sir. Are your mercs… with you?”

Diego’s eyes met Raynor’s, both sharing a confused look. “Half of them didn’t make it,” the man explained with an indifferent shrug. “We ran into trouble. What about yours?”

“A couple of casualties, but there’s a bigger problem. Some of the mercs claim they saw… something, inside the manor.”

“I trust you’ll be more specific when we reach you?”

“Yes, sir. Just keep an eye on your… never mind. See you soon, sir.”

With that, the image flickered away, Diego flinching when the wires crawled out of his skin, leaving red spots all along his arm. They retracted into the device like burrowing snakes, Raynor wondering how so much length could coil inside the tiny device. The disk stopped glowing, Diego depositing it back into his pouch.

“What’s that thing?” Kylin asked from Raynor’s left. “Looks neat.”

“Long range communication device,” Diego explained. “Ancient technology, of course. Now, if you’re all done celebrating, we have a manor to clear.”

5

At last they stood within the shadow of the manor. The hill it sat upon rose above the rest of the estate, its ebony walls stretching up to the sky, ending in turrets with cone-shaped caps. Like the eyes of the bugs that infested the estate, the windows were small and black, as if the manor its was watching the intruders gather about its entrance. A tall fence similar the one on the estate’s borders boxed in the manor, garden beds filling the incline between the fence and the walls, laying neglected in the dying afternoon light.

A sweeping staircase was angled like the wings of an angel, blooming out from the front doors, the marble so smooth it was almost like a ramp. One of the support columns by the doors lay across one side of the ramp, while a huge hole had been torn through the threshold, as if something big had trouble fitting inside and had made its own way inside.

Raloph’s team was gathered near the gate, Raynor noticing they weren’t turned towards the manor, but rather at each other. With the approaching night it was hard to imagine they could turn their backs on the dingy manor – it radiated with Scourge’s presence, a thing one didn’t see, exactly, but felt, as if the air had grown weighty enough to be felt across one’s shoulders.

At a glance it looked like the group of men were discussing, but as Raynor approached they were actually arguing, their voices raised, whatever they talked about far outweighing the risk of attracting more bugs. He and Kylin shared a confused look, as did the rest of Diego’s group.

“What is the meaning of this?” the old man shouted, leading the way as the two groups met. The men fell silent, Raloph coming forward and thrusting an arm out.

“Sir! These mercs refuse to cooperate.”

“We cooperated all day,” one of the elves said. “and look how many of us paid for it!”

The other merc group looked a lot smaller than it originally was, Raynor remembering more than twenty of them had set off this morning, now there was only ten left. The guards, meanwhile, hadn’t lost a man.

“You knew what you were getting into, merc,” Raloph snapped.

“You didn’t even give half of us a single smoke can. We got butchered back there! You should go first!”

The mercs and guards raised their voices at each other until barely anything was comprehensible. Diego came forward, raising his voice to try and calm them down. When some silence returned, the old man gestured at the elf.

“Why the cold feet now?” Diego asked.

“Something’s in that house!” The man pointed a over his shoulder at the manor. “It was big, bigger than any other bug.”

“We saw nothing,” Raloph interrupted.

“That’s because you were too busy watching your own asses!” another merc yelled. He came up to Raloph, the men squaring off. “Look at you, not a mark on your armour!” He shoved Raloph back, the captain bumping into one of his guards. The mercs erupted into a chorus of agreement, Raynor seeing that all of them were wounded in some way, gauze strapped over arms and legs, armour chipped round the edges.

One of the guards lost his temper, knocking the merc who’d touched Raloph back with the haft end of his halberd, jabbing it into his stomach. Blades left their scabbards with audible slides of metal as the mercs readied themselves.

Voices were raised as a hundred angry voices blended together. Two sides were clearly forming, Diego and his guards moving in line with Raloph as more weapons were drawn. He saw Kylin shoot him a worried glance as she produced her bow. This was getting out of hand – they’d come to blows in a minute if someone didn’t do something.

“Everyone, hold on!” Raynor shoved his way to the front, putting himself between the guards and the mercs. “We came here to fight bugs, we’re on the same side!”

“Tell that to him!” the one he remembered was called Maurus said, pointing a wooden cudgel at Raloph. “He tried to leave us behind more than once back there!”

“I did no such thing!” the captain countered. “You mercs failed to match my pace, that isn’t my fault.”

The mercs started to double down, but Raynor quickly interjected before he lost them. “Save it for after the job’s done,” he said, but his efforts were in vain, the mercs talking over each other as they riled up again.

“Screw the job!”

“I didn’t sign up to die!”

“The guards should go first!”

“I’ve had just about enough, from all of you!” Diego shouted, his commanding voice doing what Raynor could not. He stepped up to the front, turning to Raynor with a glare, his guards at his flanks. Raynor found himself facing off against him, the mercs at his back, the two sides so defined.

“We stick to the plan,” the old man said. “You are all being paid to follow my orders, at my expense. Did any of you actually read the contract before you signed it?”

The mercs glanced at each other, Kylin raising a hand from the back of the group. She ended up looking pretty uncomfortable when everyone present stared at her, so she lowered her hand.

“First section, second paragraph, sentence one,” Diego said, snapping his fingers. One of the guards put a stack of papers into his hand, Raynor recognising his signature on the top parchment. “You will carry out your employer’s instructions to the letter, and you will show equal subservience to members of your benefactor’s personal bodyguards,” Diego read aloud, fixing each merc with a frown. “That includes Raloph, for the less witted among you. Now, go and do your jobs, or else.”

Diego’s hand waved in a gesture, signalling his men. The guards fanned out into a line, levelling their pikes like they were about to meet a cavalry charge. The formed a loose circle round the mercs, making even the more unruly men go quiet as the sides stood off.

Raynor didn’t fancy his or his companions chances. He’d thought for a moment Diego would show a bit of compassion, but what else could he expect from leaders like him? He’d seen it all before, he shouldn’t be surprised at this point.

“We’ll go,” Raynor said. The men behind him started to speak, but he cut them off with a curt wave. “But, you have to agree to something first, Diego.”

“Bargaining, are we?” Diego chuckled. “You’re in no place to demand conditions from me. You’re under my employ, remember? I have your signatures.”

“Agreements should be done through words, not papers,” Raynor replied. “I know it’s too late to weasel out of it now, you’ve thought that through, but we can still make a deal.” Raynor was careful not to break eye contact with the man. “Of course, we could just kill each other right now. You might wipe us all out, you’ve got the odds, but you’d be clearing the manor by yourselves, and we all know these bugs are relentless.”

Diego’s glare hardened. “We could always fall back. I’ll hire more mercs, send them in to clear up the manor. I don’t need you.”

“Yes, you do. Almost everyone here has family, friends. You think they won’t come looking for them? You think people wont get suspicious that over twenty men came here under your employ, and the only people who made it back were your guards?”

The guards exchanged a few glances, Raloph frowning as he watched Diego hesitate. Tension physically thickened the air, and then the old man spoke. “Your terms?” he asked.

“Quadruple our reward, and we’ll agree to be your fodder.”

The mercs exchanged glances, Raynor not seeing this as he glared at the old man. Diego rested a hand on the pommel of his sword, shaking his head. “I must have misheard you. You would extort even more out of me?”

“It’s not like you can’t afford it. From where I’m standing, Prince Charming over there’s already seen to cutting down our number.”

Raloph started to argue, but Diego cut him off with a wave, holding his hand in the air. Raynor knew that hand-signal anywhere. It was the kind of gesture field-commanders used when they were about to give the order to charge. Raynor heard Kylin notch an arrow from somewhere to his left – she must have recognised it too.

“Triple,” Diego said, Raynor’s heart lifting. “Not one gold more. You go in there and you don’t come out until it’s clear.”

“Deal?” Raynor asked, turning to the mercs. Some weren’t happy, but the terms had been sweetened, and that was enough to get most of them to nod. “Deal,” Raynor said again.

The old man reached out a hand, and Raynor took it, neither men bothering to hide their disdain for the other. Raynor squeezed hard, hoping the old man’s arm would sting for at least a few hours.

The guards stood their ground, but the mercs turned with Raynor, the former Paladin leading them up the ramp. He could almost feel Diego’s eyes boring into the back of his head, sighing as they slowly walked out of ear shot. He looked over when someone nudged him in the side. “Good thinking there, Raynor,” Callum said.

Raynor shook his head. “I’m afraid all I did was just postpone the end for us.”

“Better than being hacked down by that band of bastards.”

Raynor wasn’t so sure, and the sentiment would spread to the others very soon. He could feel Kylin’s eyes on him as he led the mercs, but dared not look back. The men might mistake that for hesitance, and morale was already bad enough. He was now responsible for walking them into the jaws of Scourge, the least he could do was lead the way.

Dozens of boots scuffled across the cement, a cloud setting over the sun shadowing the manor. Its walls were made of the darkest material he had ever seen, absorbing what little light there was, appearing like solid blackness, his mind having trouble believing what his eyes were seeing.

They came to the threshold, Raynor examining the chipped wood where the doors had been torn away. Whatever had smashed through had been big, adding a few extra feet to the height of the ruined entrance. Steeling himself, his boots kicked away a pile of trash as he stepped inside.

The manor appeared to be two floors tall from the outside, but the manor comprised of just the one, large room, each corner occupied by tall, cylindrical tubes that allowed access to the turrets he’d seen earlier. The longest table he’d ever seen stretched from the east wall to the west, with enough space for at least sixty people to sit. Plates, cutlery, and brass candlesticks created a mess along the tables surface, sat upon a giant sheet of linen that had been reduced to mere strips of stuffing in places.

One side of the space contained the kitchen, stoves and ovens and grills open so that the diners could watch their meals be seasoned, sectioned away with tiled flooring. It had long since turned into a block of rusty machinations, flanked by a stone furnace where things could roast next to a fire, topped by a chimney that stretched out of that sides wall.

At the opposite end, a guardrail jutted out of the ground a few meters from the wall, curving at a right angle toward the corner. Raynor guessed it was a stairwell leading to a basement.

The rest of the space was empty, an ornate fireplace sat adjacent to the entrance on the far side, suits of armour and a wide range of weapons mounted above the bricks, and not just the ornamental kind. They looked like real, studded pieces, some leather and some metal, a few of them even appearing to be made of the same onyx material the house was constructed of.

The mercs filed into the room, none daring to move further inside than Raynor already was. There were eggs mixed in with the scattered trash, the fleshy pillows of yellow dotted about, maybe two dozen in all.

“Can’t hit the rewind button now, team cheap,” Kylin said, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder. Diego and his goons had formed up at the bottom of the ramp – blocking any retreat.

Something was scuffling from the far side of the manor, the men turning their heads about. From above the ornate fireplace, something lowered itself from the ceiling.

Two pairs of fat wings, one set just below the other, protruded from the round back of an insect twice as tall as any of the men. Its rounded shell was smooth as glass, brown in colour and adding nearly another meter to its towering appearance. Three large, compound eyes protruded from its ‘face’, arranged like points on a triangle. These eyes were pure black, but a vague awareness lingered behind the lens as it studied the intruders.

Two sideways jaws, tipped with mandibles shaped a little like shovels, parted to reveal a pink throat, contracting and pulsing as it breathed in, the sound almost human as it filled its huge lungs. Its arms were giant claws like those of a crab, stretching out of sheaths in its sides, the grooves in its shell allowing it to curl up into a ball of shell. It stalked forward on two stubby legs, protected beneath a series of plates arranged in a skirt, covering its thighs and hanging low enough to drag against the wooden floor.

It snapped two pairs of pincers, click click~!, –its gossamer wings flittering, yet the creature seemed incapable of flight due to its size. Raynor didn’t have time to wonder what the point of them was, as the thing, or the princess as the servant called it, knocked aside a chair as it rumbled towards the group.

Callum and Kylin moved in by his right, Hrol and Orik on his left, Raynor glancing between them as he readied his sword and shield.

“Ready?” he asked them, wanting to say something before the princess pounced.

“Arrows, check,” Kylin said. “Breathing, check. Scared out of my wits? Check.”

Hrol grunted, and Orik brought his axe to bear. “I’ll hang this thing’s head on my wall,” he said.

“Any ideas where to actually hit it?” Callum asked, always eager to find solutions.

“The face, maybe the lower back,” Raynor replied. “try and get around it. I don’t know how fast that thing can move.”

“Looks like we’re about to find out,” Kylin said. “Run!”

The princess had seemed to grow bored of waiting, lowering its head and bounding over on its thick legs. Its gait looked slow, but it carried itself well over ten meters in a second, slamming through the middle of the table and splitting it in two. The ground quaked as the creature scattered the band, half going left, half right. Someone at the back was too slow to react, the creatures mass rolling over him at the end of its charge. He didn’t even have time to scream before he fell and his skull caved in.

The bug swept to the right, those locked in its gaze struggling to their feet. Raising its crab-arm up, it brough its claw down and turned an elf into a red pancake, his raised sabre providing as much defence as his bones did. The sight sent the rest of the men into a frenzy, rising up on shaking legs and forming a wall of sharpened steel.

They lunged, the creature shielding its head away behind an arm, the weapons bouncing off the chitin uselessly. Reaching out, it trapped another man between its huge pincers, pinching him by the waist and lifting him up. The man screamed, wailing even when the thing squeezed and severed him into two halves, throwing his upper half away like it was tossing out an old newspaper.

From somewhere an arrow pierced the air, flying home and lodging itself into a bit of shell just above the left eye, wobbling with the creatures exaggerated movements.

“Don’t just sit there and wait to die!” Kylin shouted, loosing another arrow. This one ricocheted off the top of the curved shell. It was the first time the weapon hadn’t instantly killed what she was aiming at.

Raynor, Callum and a few others braved the gauntlet, closing in on the thing from behind. The princess’ back was armoured with its main shell, tapering towards the feet into a wedge, leaving a gap between the feet and the hindquarters. He had no idea if flesh was hidden there, but it was their best chance.

He angled his sword down, Callum and the others trying to fight through the carapace with brute-force. The creature pivoted with alarming speed, sweeping out a claw. Raynor ducked at the last moment, seeing his fellow mercs sent flying away to crash into piles of dust and debris. Even though there were a dozen others with him, Raynor felt all alone when the thing glared down at him.

It brought down one of its arms, Raynor rolling out of its path at the last second, the ground trembling as he dashed toward it. He crouched next to the things leg and levered his sword, plunging it around and up like he was filleting a fish.

He was rewarded with a fresh spurt of ichor leaking down his arm, and a roar so deep his very bones shook. The claw came back, but his sword wouldn’t budge, and he was knocked away by the crustacean’s limb, rolling for at least a dozen meters before friction stopped him. Stars danced in his vision as he looked down, seeing he still held his sword. Or at least, the lower half of it. The rest was probably still wedged in the thing’s ass.

The mercs attacked the thing from all sides, the creature picking up a man and ripping him in two, tossing the two bleeding pieces aside as it fought its way across the room, leaving the entrance’s immediate area. Some of the men too scared to fight made a break for it, only to come face to face with Diego’s wall of pikemen. When they tried to force their way outside, Diego’s men ran them through. It was chaos.

Raynor struggling to his knees as he watched the creature move. He followed its path with his eyes and saw it was barrelling for Kylin, who had hopped onto the table for some added height. She let loose arrow after arrow, but all that did was make the thing angry, the arrows plinking off its thick shell.

Like it had before, its head lowered partially beneath its shell, falling into a charge that would be near impossible to dodge at this distance. Kylin sprinted across the length of the table, kicking off plates and dishes as she went, but the creature simply leaned over, curving towards the fleeing lizard. She’d be crushed, and she knew it, her eyes going wide with an emotion that didn’t suit her at all: fear.

Raynor couldn’t let that happen. As much as she tried his patience, they’d come to an understanding. It wasn’t that much of a goal considering he kept his feelings close, but he would have a hard time living with himself if she died now.

He fell into his own charge, his shield held out in front of him as he sprinted forward to intercept. He met the princess’ flank hard, his arms going numb as pain exploding through them. He didn’t have nearly enough mass to stop the creature, but it did angle away, the mere centimetres saving Kylin from turning into a pancake as it raced past her and slammed into the fireplace, bricks shifting as the manor shook, one of the suits of armour slipping off its hook and crashing to the ground.

Exposing its mouth, the bug roared again, jabbing a claw at Raynor. He held up his shield in a block, his boots skimming across the floor as the impact sent him back. He was pretty sure his arm had fractured, but he dared not let the shield go, the creature coming at him with an overhead slam.

He braced behind his faithful weapon as a ton of shell pummelled him from above. Like a ball bouncing off a wall, the claw was turned away, something flicking over the bug’s eyes, perhaps it was surprised he hadn’t been turned to paste. The shield seemed so small, yet it shrugged off another slam from the claw, Raynor’s knees buckling as the bones in his shield-arm snapped.

Another claw came crashing down, the impact sending a shockwave through Raynor’s whole body. He felt his shoulder slip out of its socket. He couldn’t take much more of this. Where was everyone? Claw and shield met once again, the thing deciding to lean all its weight on him this time. One of his boots broke straight through the floorboard, his strength draining like a bleeding wound as his body began to give in.

Scales brushed up against his side, Raynor peering through squinted eyes to see Kylin standing next to him. She raised her bow, two arrows notched, and brought the tips right in front of the thing’s face.

She loosed at point-blank range, the two lower eyes of the bug popping like cysts and spilling gooey fluids down its cheeks and mandibles. The weight on Raynor’s cracking shield left. The creature stumbling away as it screeched, slinking its head under its shell protectively.

Raynor was in agony, his arms exploding in pain as he collapsed to his knees. The corners of his vision bringing him to the edge of consciousness, the sheer pain helping to keep him awake.

Kylin stood protectively over him, putting herself between him and the bug. The creature let loose another roar, exposing its wounded face to her. The arrows were buried almost to the feathers, moving along when the socket muscles twitched. The fluids of its destroyed, gelatinous eyes dripped over the shafts, seeping down its face like the thing was crying.

It lumbered towards her, but Hrol stood in its way, balancing on one foot as he roundhouse-kicked it. If the big orc wasn’t mostly muscle he’d probably have broken all of the bones in his leg, Kylin blinking when the princess stumbled to one side.

It swiped at him, but the orc lifted an arm and grabbed one of the pincers, stopping it, though not without great effort. The bug sauntered forward, pushing the orc a good five meters before throwing him away, where he crashed into the dining table, exploding in a puff of destroyed wood and dust, disappearing into the debris.

The thing leaked ichor wherever it went, the other half of Raynor’s sword managing to bleed the beast. Streams of its pus-like fluids scribbled all over the manor, the red blood of the humans and elves mixing into it to create puddles of pink liquid.

Shouting in the honour of the gods, Orik appeared next to where Hrol lay in a clump, raising his axe over his head in two hands, then thrusting his arms forward, his hands outstretched parallel to his eyes. Like the primitive tomahawk, the axe flew end over end and found its mark in the lower mouth of the bug, with a wet crunch, the thing failing to cover itself in time.

It reached up and plucked the axe, the new wound spewing ichor as it snapped the weapon in two. Flipping out his dagger, Orik bid the bug to come get him.

The creature didn’t need its full sight to see where the dwarf was, shell and claw bearing down on the dwarf in huge, devastating arcs. The floor was ripped apart by an underhand, the dwarf using its arm like a ramp and lunging forward, dagger aimed at the remaining eyeball.

He never found his mark, the bug plucking him out of the air, and squeezing. Orik wriggled, his legs kicking and his arms flailing, but the bug didn’t let go, seeming to enjoy watching him struggle in its grip.

Hrol picked himself up, and launched himself back into the fray, going for the joints in the arm that held Orik aloft. Gripping two plates of shell, he pried them apart with an effort no mortal could hope to match, a sick crack sounding off through the manor as shell ripped, exposing the pink meat underneath.

Hrol held fast as the bug tried to shake him off, the orc planting his feet when the bug relented. Callum raced up from behind, spear held high. He plunged the weapon into the meat of the arm and twisted.

Raynor had eaten lobster once or twice. He remembered his father showing him how to get past the shell into the juicy meat inside. Hrol plucked the bug’s arm in the exact same way his father did, the limb spewing a geyser of blood and pus as it severed. Orik wasn’t moving, a red ring dribbling round where the claws grasped his waist. Anyone watching closely would see the big orc was staring long and hard at the dwarf’s body.

The bug doubled over, its movements sluggish as it flailed its useless stub of an arm about. Callum rammed his spear anywhere he could, Hrol moving over to the other claw to keep it pinned out of the way. Kylin peppered it with arrows, a couple digging into its lower back where the plate wasn’t so thick. The thing was weakening, more meat and blood trailing out of its wounds, but the stubborn bug wouldn’t go down, its endurance outpacing even Hrol’s as the two giants tested their strength.

“It won’t die!” Callum cried, grunting when the bug shoulder-checked him, sending him skidding back to Kylin’s feet, the lizard bringing him up with a grunt.

“Keep it still, Hrol,” Raynor said, moving past the lizard and Callum, clutching at the belts on his chest. “Kylin, help him out.”

“Your arms, Raines…”

“Just do it.”

Loosing her last arrow, she slung her bow over a shoulder and rushed over. The orc was trying to topple the bug, and Kylin’s extra strength helped send it crashing down. She and Hrol stood on its pinned, remaining arm, turning to Raynor to see what he’d do.

He stopped right next to its face, removing a canister from his belt, white-hot pain coursing through him with every movement of his arms. He flipped the cap off and shoved the canister down its throat. His arm sank all the way up to the elbow, Raynor’s face scrunching up as the walls of its throat flexed and moved against his limb, the little mandibles on its mouth scrabbling for purchase on his vambrace.

He pulled his arm free with a wet pop, he and his companions backing away as the thing thrashed about in a tantrum of suffocation. Its mouth puffed smoke like a bellows, the bug swaying about on the spot as it struggled to its feet.

One leg gave way beneath it, Raynor rushing forward with his companions to finish it off, scooping up Orik’s dagger as he went. They were like a group of savages, stabbing the dying beast over and over, even after it stopped moving. They knew by now they had to make sure anything they killed, stayed that way.

Raynor stabbed its remaining eye one last time, his vision blurry with all the pain he felt, his lungs burning for air as he stood back. That was it. They’d killed it. The manor was a mess of severed limbs and body fluids, almost ankle-high in the more brutalised places, the entrance being one such spot. It seemed more than a couple mercs had tried to escape, a pile had grown in front of Diego’s men. Only a few others were alive, cowering in the far corner as they watched the battle.

Raynor’s legs craved for rest, and he obliged, his butt hitting to the floor with a thunk. Callum used his spear as a crutch, walking with a slight limp as he found a place he too could collapse on.

Raynor watched through hazy eyes, Hrol move over and pry apart the bug’s severed arm, clutching Orik’s hand in his own, larger ones. He set the drawf down with a gentleness that didn’t suit the giant greenskin.

He felt a presence beside him, turning to see Kylin plonking down next to him, her tail curling over one of her strange, raptornoid feet. “One manor, cleaned. Of bugs, I mean,” she added, sighing as she fiddled with the wire of her bow. “You know, I think I learned something from all this.”

“What?” he asked.

“Learn to read the terms and conditions.”

“In your case, Kylin, it would just be- ‘learn to read’.”

She laughed, the sound capturing his attention. She too was struggling for breath, the strips of leather doing little to hide her modest bust, rising and falling as she panted. She gazed at him with those slitted, red and yellow eyes, her lip on this side pulled back in a small smile. Her tail stretching to touch his foot. “Thanks for saving my butt back there, charging into that walking lobster like that. You’re either really brave or completely insane.”

“Why not both?” he said, meeting Kylin’s grin with his own. She fake-punched him on the shoulder, and his smile turned into a grimace as pain shot up his arm.

“Oh shit, shit, sorry,” she said.

The sound of approaching boots brought him to his senses, seeing Diego leading his guards over. It was hard to tell whether his guards were levelling their weapons at the mercs or the dead bug, Kylin watching them close in with a frown.

“Please don’t betray us, please don’t betray us, please don’t betray us,” she mumbled under her breath. Raynor prayed the same, nursing his arms against his stomach as the old man came up to them.

Diego looked from the battered mercs, to the princess, giving its massive corpse an experimental kick. It rolled away from his boot, armoured plates crunching together as it draped to one side.

“Good work,” Diego said. Really? Raynor thought, that was all he had to say? Kylin seemed to be of the same mind, glaring at their mutual employer. “You four fought admirably this day.”

“Likewise, Dee,” Kylin said, pointing a claw at the pile of bodies by the door. “You showed those poor fools what it means to give away your signature.”

“No one leaves until the job is done,” Diego said, not missing a beat. The way his guards shuffled their weapons about was hard to miss, Raynor feeling Kylin’s tail coil over his ankle a little tighter as they waited for the old man to make his move.

“This will take some cleaning up, I imagine,” Diego said. “But you all did your part, so allow me to do mine.”

He waved his hand, and Raloph stepped forward, carrying something in his arms. He dropped eight bags that jingled like crazy when they met the ground. He looked like he wanted to say something, but kept his lips shut.

“Triple, as promised. You earned it.” Diego turned around, moving back to the doors as he added: “I want all of you out of here by morning, our business is concluded.”

The troop followed him out, leaving the mercs with their pay. Raynor reached out to tug on one of the bag straps, but his whole arm flared, hissing through is teeth as his vision went black in pain.

“Take those vambraces off,” Kylin said, noticing his discomfort. “Don’t move so much.”

There was a distinct lump below his left elbow, defined even through the armour. One by one, he unfastened the clamps trailing his forearm, Kylin helping him slide the bloodied steel off. Once it was off, he rolled up his sleeve, and wished he hadn’t looked. His arm was covered in bruises, almost completely purple, jutting at an unnatural angle. There was even a bit of white that might have been bone peeking out from a leaking wound. The bug had really done a number on him. His other arm was no different, judging by how he couldn’t move it without fighting back tears.

“Fuck.” Kylin recoiled. “What’s that shield made of?”

“Never mind that. Just help me out. There’s a red vial on my belt, just there. No, the other one. Yes. Splash it on the bruises, don’t stop until they’re all covered.”

She opened the vial’s topper with a flick of her claw, picking up a belt that fastened over his fallen vambrace. “Wanna bite down on this?”

He nodded, and she stuck the leather between his teeth, Raynor biting down when she spilled the potion onto his arm. As if she’d taken cold water onto a hot surface, steam rose from his flesh with an audible hiss, the flesh that had split reknitting before her very eyes. Colour slowly returned to his skin, the bruises taking on the more normal appearance, swollen and circular.

Raynor didn’t want to whimper, but couldn’t help it when she moved on to his other wounded arm. Kylin didn’t stop, knowing that would just make it worse and prolong the agony. For what felt like hours she emptied the vial onto his skin, but in reality only a minute had passed before she was done, tipping the last of the vial into his exposed bone.

Raynor spat the belt out, a wave of bliss falling over him as his arms healed. They still looked nasty, but at least he could move them, and even feel his fingers when he wiggled them.

“I… suppose that’s it then,” Callum said, limping over to the bags, leaning over and pulling one open. One could almost see the small fortune of gold reflected in his eyes. Raynor expected him to whistle in surprise, but the man just looked too tired to care.

“How’s the leg?” Raynor asked him.

“Just a bit cut up, I’ll be fine.” Behind him the mercs who didn’t fight trudged back to the entrance – looking at the prize but none daring to approach, almost as if they were more afraid of the ones who killed the bug than the bug itself.

Callum watched them leave, contemplating something before looking back down at the bags. “Looks like he left us two bags each. I know they didn’t do much just now, but they deserve to walk away with something for being pulled into this.”

“Take one of mine,” Raynor said. “Keep yours. Get you and your wife a place in a city, far away from these swamps.”

“… You’re a good man, Raynor.”

“I don’t feel like one,” Raynor muttered, the air rank with the stench of blood and decay.

Hrol came over, furthering Raynor’s sour mood when he saw Orik clutched in his green arms. Raynor didn’t know any of these men very well, but that didn’t make him feel any less responsible.

“We’ll give him a proper burial, if you want,” Callum said, the orc grunting in affirmation. He picked up five of the eight bags, the coins inside clinking together as he slung them over his shoulder. He turned to the still sitting Raynor and Kylin. “You two coming?”

“We’ll be along,” Kylin answered for them.

“Alright. We’ll wait by the camp, then we can all walk back to town together.”

“That’s not a good idea,” she said, Raynor and Callum sharing a look. “Diego will be around, you should probably make yourselves scarce before he gets any ideas.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but Callum nodded, offering them his hand. “Thank you, both of you. I’d be dead if not for either of you. Won’t forget this.”

Kylin shook it the same way she’d taken Raynor’s hand the other day, Raynor giving it as best a shake he could, his hand still tender. “Farewell, Callum.”

“Farewell.”

Hrol and Callum left, Raynor turning to his lizard companion. “You’re not leaving?”

“We’re, getting you some rest,” she corrected, helping him to his feet. “Come, this way.”

“What about the gold?”

“It’s not going anywhere.”

Flinching when she took his hand, Kylin walked him over to the far side of the manor, towards the guardrail that sat in the corner. It was as if she knew the place, moving down the steps that turned at a right angle.

“Where are we going?” he asked, sick of being underground.

“I took a peek down here before. There’s a bed.”

“During the fight?” He hadn’t seen her come over, let alone imagined where on earth she got the time to do so.

His feet touched a rug when the steps ended, Raynor’s eyes blinking as his vision adjusted to the darkness. A grandfather clock sat off to one side, a dresser leaning against the opposite wall. Kylin was right, there was a bed, and a luxurious one at that. It filled up the entire back quarter of the space, which was maybe ten meters long and about half as wide. The more he looked at it, the more the ‘bed’ was just a collection of pillows and blankets, more akin to a nest.

The wall beside the clock was slotted with a large window, moonlight spilling in, the image of the swamp beyond giving the room less of a claustrophobic appeal. He watched Kylin’s lithe figure move to the right, a ball of flame coming to life before her angular face, which appeared to float in the darkness.

She breathed out, the light encompassing a sconce he’d not seen before, the soft light illuminating the bedchamber.

“You can use fire magic?” he asked. The lizard looked over her shoulder at him.

“Yes? And?”

He blinked. “And… nothing. It’s a rare magic these days, takes a lot of skill.”

She turned her reptilian head and stared at him, her eyes reflecting the dancing flames in the sconce, her gaze almost covetous. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Raines. Get your armour off.”

“What?”

“You won’t get much rest sleeping in bloody armour, and you look like you’re about to collapse.”

Shrugging, he did as she asked, standing next to the sconce so he could see where his belts and straps were. He felt a little uncomfortable, and not just because Kylin watched him the whole time, standing just inside the circle of light like a hungry wolf stalking a campsite. Although the estate was clear, there was still that portal down in the dungeons. Whatever else had come through, this place was tainted with Scourge’s touch.

“Couldn’t help but notice you didn’t tell Diego about the forge,” Kylin said, as if sensing his apprehension. He shrugged at her.

“Let him sort it out, it’s his estate.”

“That’s the spirit,” she said.

He unwrapped his skirt, folding it up and placing it on the dresser. “Are you hurt, my lady?” he asked. “Do you need any potions?”

“My scales took the worst of it,” she said. “Unless you’ve got alcohol in one of those vials? I’m parched.”

“Think fast.” He chucked one of the glass containers, the lizard catching it in her claws. “I’ve got some water to dilute it so we can… uh…”

The sound of her audible swallows drew his attention. Kylin had downed half the bottle in less than three seconds, smacking her lips with a refreshed ahh. “You m… You humans know how to make a good drink, I’ll give you that.”

“That was… almost pure alcohol…”

“Lizard livers.” She gave her belly a pat. “Harder than yours.”

Blinking again, he went back to undressing, slipping his chausses off next, leaning against the wall until his legs were bare, save for his trousers. He set them aside, then worked on his breastplate.

“I was worried we’d have to fight Diego earlier, when his boyfriend was forcing the mercs to go in first.” Kylin sipped at the vial again. “Mm that’s nice. Then you stepped in and defused that ticking time bomb. You’ve led men before, haven’t you?”

“Once or twice.” Like a shirt that weighed a ton, he peeled off the breastplate, slipping out his arms, then his head. “I just appealed to their lust for gold. Figured that would motivate them more than anything.”

“A greed you don’t share, eh?” she asked. “You’re too generous to be a merc, Raines. Don’t get me wrong, I like that about you. Meeting a man who isn’t just out for himself has been… stimulating.”

“I’m glad we met, too, my lady,” he said. “You’re not like any woman I’ve met before. You’re… strange.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment? I can’t tell.”

“Good strange. I don’t know what it is about you, but I feel like there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“Maybe you’ll get a chance to see more of me,” she said, her eyes glowing in the dark as he met her gaze. “A toast,” she said, raising the vial. “To a job, er, done. There were a few close calls, but you managed not to screw everything up.”

“How do you mean?” he asked, but Kylin didn’t answer. She looked almost disappointed for a second, before offering him the vial. He stood in his sleeved shirt and pants now, almost as unprotected as she was – the lizard wearing only bandoliers for protection, her midriff, legs and face uncovered this whole time.

“Thanks,” he said, even though it was his vial. He shuffled through his discarded belts for water, adding it in before taking a sip. The drink had an immediate effect, a pleasant buzz warming his belly, and he wondered how Kylin could stand it pure.

“What’re your plans now, Raynor?” The lizard turned and flopped down on the edge of the nest, leaning back on an elbow. “Gold is yours, the manor is clear. The future is bright.”

“I’ll be moving on,” he said.

“That was quick. Already made up your mind?”

“As I said, I travel a lot. Taking the odd job is the only reason I stop moving.”

“Ever thought about… you know, not moving along?”

“You mean settle down? Start a family?”

She shrugged.

“It’s crossed my mind,” he admitted. “But that kind of life isn’t for me. I told you about how I left the Directive? Well, the High Chairmen sent assassins after me. They burned down the tavern I was staying in one night, civilians be damned. I managed to get away, and since then I’ve never stayed in one place for too long. I can’t risk that kind of collateral again, I can’t let people I care about get involved in my problems.”

“I’m not completely defenceless, Raines.” She grinned, and he grinned back. They had only met days ago, did he really feel so strongly about her? Was he so depraved from his own emotions that he fell for the first person he opened up to?

That couldn’t be it. She was strong, intelligent, her quirky personality was alluring, even if he’d initially been annoyed by it. He knew so little about her all things considered, and that only added to his intrigue.

“I hate it when people stand over me,” she said, patting the bed next to her. “Come.”

His legs thanking him as he did, Raynor leaned down a comfortable distance from her, passing her the vial when her eyes locked on it.

“What about you?” he asked, Kylin peering at him with one eye. “Any plans yourself?”

“I’ve got a couple ideas,” she said. “But they can wait. For now I’ll just focus on you and me.”

Raynor kept quiet, sipping the last of the drink that Kylin saved for him. Something brushed up against his hip and he looked, seeing her tail waving back and forth behind her, wagging like a happy dog’s would. His eyes traced over the white lines of scales, the ones that looked like warpaint trailing up the sides of the appendage, growing thicker as the tail met her rump. It was so packed with muscle there if he grabbed it, fingers would scarcely reach on the other side. The white scales drifted into a creamy red around her cheeks, almost like they were designed to draw the gaze to her feminine figure.

“Checking out my tail?” she asked, grabbing the appendage and placing the tip between him and her. “I saw you looking a couple times today. You can touch it if you want.”

“Oh, I, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Relax, I don’t expect something for nothing. You’ll let me touch your fur in exchange.”

She offered her tail, Raynor taking it with a hesitant hand. Her scales were a lot smoother than he thought they’d be, it was like running his fingers over glass, the texture of her minute, diamond-shaped scales pleasant under his fingers. The scales shrank down so much towards the tip that if he closed his eyes he could imagine he was rubbing skin between his fingers.

“Your hands are so soft,” Kylin murmured, a shiver running through her body like an electric current. “Those white lines there are actually are birth defect.”

“Really?” he said, his initial hesitance overridden by curiosity, tracing one of the lines with a nail. “I wouldn’t have guessed. I thought it was paint.”

He explored the appendage, delighting in her scaley texture, the lizard sighing in content, as if he was giving her a massage. Soon she came to her senses, prying her tail away from him. “My turn.”

Reaching up, she brough her claws into his mop of hair, Raynor eyeing her sharp claws as they delved in. She took care to keep the pressure light, running her hands in small figures of eight over his scalp. Now it was Raynor’s turn to shiver, he never thought his head would be so sensitive.

“Your fur is soft too, yet you’re a hard man underneath it all.”

“Hair,” he corrected. “not fur.”

“Potato, potato.”

“Potahto,” he laughed, the lizard grinning as she scrunched up a clump of his brown hair, then releasing it.

“Did you know when lizards seek out mates, the tails are one of the more sort after qualities?” she asked, her claws trailing down to the back of his neck. Raynor was positive that the face she was telling him this after he’d had a good feel, was intentional. “The longer and thicker the tail, the better. Skinny and short are okay, but that might suggest weaker genes.”

“Is that a turnoff?”

“Don’t humans desire strong mates to sire healthy children?”

“Some do, yes.”

“What about you, Raynor? Do you prefer a dainty human woman, or maybe you like a bit of novelty?”

“I’ve… never really thought about it much. From experience I suppose I’d be leaning to the latter. Someone who can handle themselves is more than enough for me.”

“Good to know.”

“What about no tail?” he asked. “There’s at least one lizard out there who’s looked outside their own species. How would they deal with that?”

“More than one,” she replied coyly. “Beyond tails you’ve got the usual traits. Muscles, eye colour, fins, though in your case that would mean hair. Then there’s the personality of course, not to sound too cheesy. We… lizards like a man with principles.”

“Take you, for example,” she said, leaning over and bringing her face closer to his. “You fed that servant when she asked for food, you took initiative when we were ambushed by the swarm. Then, at the manor? You led those fools yourself when they’d all but given up. You’re kind, with a strong will. You’re the only man out of all of those mortals with even a shred of dignity, and you’re a paladin to boot. Your genes are strong.”

Raynor swallowed, her expression playful as she dropped her gaze, her hand leaving his hair and brushing over his pectoral. She looked away, the half of her face on this side lifting up into a smirk. “I wonder if you taking initiative was just a fluke…”

Raynor knew that look, her grin a challenge, or perhaps an invitation. Her draconic face made the expression all the more arrogant, teasing. This whole time he’d been aware of how close she was getting to him, what they’d really been talking about since she’d brought him down here. She was a lot stronger than she looked, her presence still stirring something strange in him, but he could never forgive himself if he didn’t try and prove her wrong.

He reached forward and cupped the back of her head, bringing her snout to his lips. Her eyes blazed in alarm, then went gentle, further away from his face due to the prominence of her reptilian snout.

Her smirk vanished as he sucked on her lower lip, feeling her hand slide over his chest as he dragged the kiss on. He counted to five then released, their lips smacking in the way all kisses do.

She grinned at him. “I’m not some courtly woman to be pampered, Raines.”

The lizard pushed him over, sending him falling to the mattress on his back, Kylin draping a leg over him. He went to speak, but she shoved her mouth into his, her mouth opening to let her tongue push against his lips.

He parted his mouth, the lizard grinning as her tongue met his. Hers was forked at the end, much like a snake’s, thinner than his but much, much longer, her control over it alarming as she constricted his tongue with ease. His cheeks bulged from how much she was piling in, Raynor trying not to gag as his lungs burned for air, her kiss messy compared to his.

She mashed his lips until they bruised, then lifted her face up to gaze into his face. Her eyes were so red, like blood, boring into him and making him feel small and vulnerable. Her lips hovered just an inch above his own as her tongue explored his mouth, both of them breathing harder as mutual desire took over them.

“Tathe ofth yu klothesss,” she said.

“What?” She drew her organ out of his mouth, the process akin to one sucking up a strand of spaghetti. Raynor’s eyes went wide as it went on for a long time – not understanding how he hadn’t choked with all that inside him.

“I said take off your clothes.”

Raynor held his arms up as he pulled off his shirt, exposing his toned chest and shoulders. He threw the garment somewhere to his left, the lizard leaning down and nibbling at his shoulder, her teeth unfolding to graze at his flesh. She didn’t break the skin, but she did leave a few red marks that wouldn’t heal for days, just enough pressure to send sparks flying through his head.

She slid lower, her hands pressing against his shoulders as she moved down to his waist. She worked at the waistband, moaning when Raynor reached down and seized her the fronds on her head, the membranes reminding him of dorsal fins one would find on the back of a fish.

“Oh, Raines…” She sighed as he manipulated the fins, looking up and fixing him with a half mocking, half accusing look. “You’ve taken lizard lovers before, haven’t you?”

He shook his head no. “Not exactly.”

She wanted an actual explanation, but he thought he’d let her have a taste of her own medicine. She let him tease her sensitive fronds for a little longer, before slapping away his hands, the man flinching.

“We’re doing this my way, human.”

She slipped her claws below his waistband, and pulled his pants off, Raynor kicking them away and grunting when she grabbed at his loincloth. She eyed his erection as it bounced free, slowly reaching full-mast like her gaze alone was willing it to stand.

Raynor bucked when she uncoiled her long tongue, and gave his length a lick, from his balls, up his shaft, to the tip, breathing in his musk and smirking when she looked up at him. “We don’t sweat like humans do. Your scent is intoxicating. Every time we battled I could smell it on you, and now…”

She licked him again, the forked end dipping into his belly button, up his stomach, his abs tensing as she traced patterns over them, then across his nipple, then finally his neck, two face-to-face once more. “You taste delicious, anyone ever tell you that?”

He mumbled that he had once or twice, but Kylin wasn’t really interested in his answer, licking him from the chin to his forehead, before leaning up, her back curving in an alluring arch, making an effort to fill Raynor’s vision with her feminine body. Her underbelly was a little lighter shade of red than her back, almost pink, the light of the sconce catching her scales in a way that made it seem she was made of liquid fire. He was transfixed.

She pulled at the bandolier on her shoulder, flicking one belt loose, then another. Raynor reached up to help her, his hand flaring in pain as she smacked him away.

“No~,” she said, her voice sing-song, like she was scolding a troublesome dog. He watched as she shrugged off one half of her leather poncho, making slow, deliberate movements as she ran her hands over her pronounced chest.

Frustrated, Raynor’s hands fell to her waist, the lizard allowing him to explore her pinched waist and tapered thighs. Her midriff curved into a slim, hourglass figure his hands couldn’t get enough of, the muscles beneath her scales tensing as he traced the contours of her developed abdominals. She was shaped like a marble statue, carved to a feminine perfection, fit and lean, but still wide and curved where it mattered, her thighs melting like butter when he pushed his fingers into their generous mass.

She grinded against his waist with her own, her anatomy blocked by wide sections of leather, the texture a little unpleasant as his cock was rubbed raw. At last her top came free from its bonds, falling away to expose her upper torso. Her chest protruded like that of a woman’s, minus a cleavage, Raynor’s hands having a mind of their own as he reached up and cupped her bust. He was a little disappointed to see she had no nipples, though her curved breast still seemed as sensitive as normal boobs, Kylin biting her lip as she made a show of stretching herself above him.

She hooked her thumbs beneath two of the belts coiling her waist, and pulled, planting her knees next to his armpits she lifted herself up. She fingered a button and a pelt, then pulled the waist armour apart like one would open a fly on a pair of pants, giving Raynor having an amazing view of her exposed anatomy.

Her pink lips reminded him of a cut peach, surrounded on all sides by scales smaller than his fingernails, each one a different shade of red and pink the closer they got to her lips. Thick strands of her juices wetted her labia, where they leaked down her thighs in shiny strands.

“See something you like?” she giggled. “You know, the last person who stared at me like that I- woah!”

Her laughs morphed into a moan as he lifted her up by her cheeks, his knuckles sinking into her generous butt, lifting her towards him until her lips were all he could see. He shoved his tongue straight in, meeting a little resistance before he broke through, lapping at her vulva and breathing in her thick scent, rich and sexy.

Kylin muttered something in a language he didn’t understand, perhaps her own native speech. She bucked and writhed against his face, Raynor taking fistfuls of her ass to keep her close, not that he thought she’d try to get away. Her reptilian walls were covered in hard rings of muscle, almost like the layered scales of a dragon, digging into his tongue and pulling it deeper, her walls morphing to the shape of his organ with the tightness of a glove.

He had to try very hard to free his tongue from her walls, her vagina contracting around him almost to the point it hurt. Her fem-nectar spilled over his lips and down his chin, her soft thighs engulfing his head as she squeezed him in a sultry headlock. Her juices had a leathery aftertaste, not at all unpleasant as he continued to core her out after taking a breath laden with her scent.

He traced the contours of her entrance, his tongue coming across a nub of flesh, and Kylin buckled, a fresh wave of her fluids flooding his face. It was a little deeper than what he was used to, Kylin going crazy as he drew circles around it. With their snouts and sharp teeth it was probably near-impossible for lizards to give good head, Raynor grinning as his grip on her ass kept her from escaping. Her cheeks spilled over his fingers generously, his hands just not getting enough of her smooth rump.

Kylin removed his hands with surprising strength, her groin leaving his face, a thick wad of her emissions linking his lips to her genitals for a second before spilling over his chest, the man clicking his lips with a lewd smack. He blinked up at her in disappointment, Kylin relishing in seeing his face covered in her juices.

“I can’t wait any longer,” she said, her sex leaving wet smears as she dragged her waist down his belly, gripping his dick and angling it towards her snatch. “You’re mine.”

He felt a bit of apprehension, those rings of muscle lining her tunnel would be gripping his length, and he doubted he would be able to keep up. They both gasped in unison as her swollen lips met his glans, her fluids hot as her nectar leaked over his shaft, so lubricated that his tip slipped inside her easily.

“Fuck,” he groaned, her walls contracting around him. Those rings his tongue had probed out were scratching against his sensitive head almost painfully.

“We will, don’t worry,” Kylin said, her silky walls rippling and clenching as she dropped down on him in one go, her thighs slapping against his hips as she impaled herself on him. Raynor’s vision went white, the rings of her love-tunnel constricting his erection like a bunch of angry snakes.

Kylin smiled gleefully, her moan adding to the raw pleasure Raynor was drowning in. Her loins suckled and rolled, dragging him deeper in until his head brushed against the nub of flesh that might have been her equivalent of a clitoris, judging by the way her eyes blazed.

“There, right there,” she whispered, her gaze dripping with lust as she looked down at him. She crouched down and opened her legs, exposing their connected genitals. Her lips squirmed like a hungry mouth, all of his shaft disappearing into her alien anatomy. She rocked her hips against him, back and forth and keeping his cock locked against her sweet spot as she ground him into the pillows. Her slimy nub wetted his head like a paintbrush, Raynor’s mind going blank when it pressed past his foreskin and drew circles on his tender head.

He let her set the pace, laying back and letting the euphoria drown out his senses. Every movement, every contour of her body sent Raynor to a higher plane of ecstasy, the rings of her vagina milking him like a cow. It was as if her tunnel had formed perfectly to the shape of his dick, growing tighter each second they stayed mated.

“Deeper,” she groaned. “Deeper.”

He didn’t think he could, but somehow he managed, cupping her cheeks once more and pushing up against her. There had to be six of her scaley ridges engulfing him now, each one narrowing the closer they got to her womb. She switched from grinding against him to bouncing up and down his shaft, the two finding a rhythm that almost bordered on pain for the human.

He felt her tail coil around his leg, as if she was making sure he wouldn’t be going anywhere. Her vagina bloomed apart each time he bottomed out inside her, Kylin twisting each time their groins connected, as if she was using his dick to scratch some deep itch inside her. Then she rose up, his shaft exposed to the cold air until only his head remained inside her. The lizard let gravity slam her back down, deepening their coupling as they wove themselves together, Raynor thrusting up to meet her hips so hard flesh and scale clapped together, adding to the many embarrassing noises they were both making.

Kylin’s tongue lolled out of her mouth, her hands gripping his chest as she bounced on top of him. Each thrust was faster and harder than the last, Raynor biting his tongue as he felt himself reach his limit. Her walls tightened around him as if sensing him approaching the edge.

“Kylin, I-”

She held up a finger, silencing him, twisting like a piston as he went balls deep inside her.

“Deeper, Raynor,” she said. “Flood my eggs with your seed.”

He didn’t think he could go any deeper, but somehow his length pierced past the seventh ring, her vagina so narrow now that without her lubricating juices he would not have fit. His head pressed against a flatness, and he knew he’d somehow reached the walls of her womb. Part of his crotch had been absorbed into her hungry snatch, and under different circumstances he might have been worried, even frightened that he could go so deep, or that she could accommodate him without hurting herself.

She dug her claws into his chest, shivering as she neared her own peak, her movements going wild with a primal lust. He tried to stay his building climax, but her walls tightened around him further still, the lizard’s walls vibrating as she lifted her snout and gasped to the ceiling.

Her walls filled with her emission, Raynor unable to endure any longer, his waist coming up one final time, his shaft pulsing as he pumped a wad of ejaculate into her hungry womb. Her thighs and tail gripped him tight as she convulsed, doubling over and forcing her tongue into his mouth. He drowned her tunnel in more of his seed, mashing their faces together as they rode out each other’s orgasms, creating a feedback loop of ecstasy that rose high and higher as their combined juices leaked out of her lips and pooled around their thighs.

Raynor’s muscles burned as he kept on coming, seizing up as his very life essence seemed to be drawn out by her cruel loins. The crescendo lingered for an eternity, before they both rode down their afterglows, their tongues fighting lazily for control as they kissed.

His vision blurred until only Kylin existed, their joining the only thing he could feel. Her walls rolled in waves a couple more times, ensuring insemination as Kylin buried her face in his neck, tickling him as she mouthed at his throat affectionately. In the back of his mind, Raynor was alarmed by how much he was filling her up, but his panic was quickly covered by a bliss he’d never experienced with another before. After what felt like forever, she flipped off him, Raynor bucking one last time as her walls tried in vain to keep the organ locked inside. A web of their juices followed her over she lay beside him, her tail and legs covered in a messy sheen.

Her stomach was very slightly swollen – he must have filled her up to capacity and then some, the lizard covering her eyes with an arm as she sighed in content.

Her tail coiled round his waist, pulling him closer when he rolled over and embraced her. She stretched in his arms with a smile, smirking at him as she rested a claw on his chest, her fingers doting over him.

“That notice delivered you right into my arms, husband.”

“Huh?” He’d been lost in a sea of euphoria up until that last word, his eyes regaining his usual focus. “Husband?”

“Our children will need a unified couple to look up to.”

His look was hard, his faculties returning to him as he stared at her, not quite on the verge of alarm, but close to it.

Her lips pulled back, her smug developing into a snicker. “I almost had you there, didn’t I? Relax, Raynor, that was a joke.”

The alarm bled out of him a little too quickly, Raynor relaxing as he held her in his arms. She’d looked so serious he’d almost believed her.

She seemed to catch onto his thoughts, saying: “If I was in estrous, that’d be a different story.”

“Estrous?” he asked.

“Mating season for d… lizards – sex during then always guarantees a clutch of eggs.” Her claw dragged over his chin and forced him to look at her. “You looked worried for a second there. Don’t you want to have kids someday?”

“No. Well, I… I’ve not thought about it much. I can’t settle down, not yet.”

“I suppose having a family would put a stop to the whole ‘traveling stud’ thing you’re doing.”

“That too.”

She smiled. “You had a lot of partners before me?”

“Does that bother you?”

“Fuck no, you were great. No mort… man has ever eaten me out like that before. It’s like you humans were designed to be good bedwarmers. No snouts or beaks getting in the way. I’d be up for another go, but I’m tuckered from all that fighting.”

“Me too.” He’d gone further without any breaks, but the exhaustion of their romp had left him quite satisfied. Even in the middle of the manor he didn’t want to get up, Kylin’s arms draping over his chest, the presence of another easing him into sleep.

His lover said something, but he didn’t hear what, his eyelids growing heavy, the soft mattress absorbing him as he leaned back and let his dreams take him.

6

Once in a blue moon Raynor would wake up refreshed and energised, the company of a woman his vice for a good rest. Yet when he reached over lazily to clutch at his lizard companion, his hand only met the plush of the pillows.

He opened his eyes, looked about the chamber. The sconce had long since extinguished, the morning light now spilling in from the window. His gear still lay on the dresser, as did his shield. He could hear shuffling above him, guessing she might be up and about already.

Stretching his limbs, he went and pulled on his armour, not quite ready to be out in the manor dressed in just cloth. He was filthy from last night’s activities, but there wasn’t much he could do about that, wiping himself down with some of the nest’s blankets before pulling on his plate.

Shrugging his trusty shield over a shoulder, he made his way up the steps. Sunlight bathed the manor in a healthy white, a stark difference compared to usual darkness Raynor associated with the whole estate.

He reached the main floor once more, expecting to see last night’s battle spread out across the floor, blinking when a much different sight greeted him. There were humans everywhere, with mops and broomsticks clutched in their hands. They were moving about in groups, pouring soaps into bloodied splotches and heaving severed limbs into disposable black bags. The corpse of the princess was nowhere to be seen, but the damage it had done to the floor was, the long table still split into several smaller strips.

The sound of hammers striking nails was powerful, the manor alive with noise as the strange people refurbished the place. Saying that Raynor was confused would be an understatement, the man walking past the strangers warily. Not even one of them batted an eye at Raynor, resuming their cleaning duties like he wasn’t even there. He watched as several of them moved in an orderly line, mops to the floor as they backed up, leaving large squares of clean, shining floorboards, wiping up the blood from the battle with the princess bug.

Raynor blinked, recognising one of the humans as Huggy, one of the servants he’d found hiding in that secret passage. He tapped the man on the shoulder, arm raised should Huggy do what his namesake suggested.

“Ah, good morning Master! Repairs are coming along swiftly. Should be spick and span by this afternoon.”

“Sure,” Raynor said, watching someone carry a few planks of wood past him. “Where’s Kylin?”

“Who?”

“The lizard I was with. Have you seen her?”

“Oh, the mistress! She went to see that stranger off, the one leading those men in the black armour.”

“Diego?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s him. Her exact words were: I’m gonna send grandpa Dee back to whatever eldercare-bear place he came from. Something tells me she doesn’t like that man.”

“By herself?”

“We tried to accompany her, but she said things could get ‘furry’, but I think she meant to say hairy.”

Alarm bloomed over his face. She was going after Diego? What was she thinking? He needed to find her, turning his back on Huggy and racing for the door.

“Master, wait! Your gold is-”

His voice died off as Raynor sprinted down the ramp, racking his memory for which direction the camp was. There were more servants milling about, but Raynor didn’t have the time to wonder where they’d all come from, pushing between two of them and making his way south. The manor’s fence ringed the whole property, all he had to do was follow it around until he found the gate they’d come through. Better than risking getting lost in the estate.

The villa and the mansion towered over on his left as he sprinted around the estate, seeing evidence of Raloph’s team that had come through the day prior. Destroyed nests, the stench of smoke in the air, the occasional body the servants hadn’t cleaned up yet.

Was that the sound of clashing steel he could hear? He went as fast as he could, knocking aside some sort of letterbox as he rounded another corner, drawing closer to the sounds of the struggle, covering just as much ground as the day before, now that the bugs were all but wiped out.

Raynor turned one last corner, panting hard as he found himself looking down at the archway the band had entered through. Diego and his wall of men were out in the shallows of the swamp, pikes turned down toward the water like they were spearfishing. One of the men was suddenly pulled under, his feet swept out from beneath, Raynor looking just long enough to recognise Raloph’s golden hair.

“Retreat!” Diego called. “Not towards the estate, fools! It-It is cursed!”

They pulled back, wading through the muck as another of their number disappeared beneath the water, as if he’d just stepped into a submerged pit. They ran parallel to the estate, the old man at their head, towards harder ground deeper into the marsh.

Something emerged from the muck behind them, and it wasn’t a human.

Rising from the brackish liquid, what looked like a miniscule dragon’s face appeared, layers of blood-red plates arranged like armour covering its long snout. Two horns larger than Raynor’s hands curled from the top of its head, sweeping back past its scalp before ending in curved points aimed at the sky.

A set of shoulders rose up, a thorn on each one curving out, giving them the appearance of armoured pauldrons, the scales similar to steel plate the way they matched the creature’s movements. The chest curved out before tapering into a thin midriff, very womanly considering the thick, armoured scales that made up its whole body. Next came the waist, sections of plate narrowing over a prominent width that was wholly feminine, the thighs tapering into a distinct hourglass shape, further accentuated with each roll of its wide hips.

A tail covered in little thorns came next, sweeping to counterbalance its huge strides, standing at least seven, maybe eight feet tall. Its knees were capped with flexible pads, leaving a groove between the knee and the armour much like his own chausses. One leg rose from the water’s surface, ending in three huge toes that reminded him of the talons of a raptor, each one a jet-black in colour compared to the rest of its crimson body.

The thing’s eyes burned with malice at the retreating band, red and yellow like a miniaturised explosion, Raynor blinking when he noticed the sockets were discharging little jets of pure flame, curving up the sides of its elongated head. It held something long and curved in its hand. There was a flicker of movement as some sort of rod was fired. The man to Diego’s right fell with a splash, an arrow protruding from his neck.

Raynor wasn’t surprised by the daemon’s presence, but a primal fear crawled its way up his spine all the same, his heart skipping a beat when he reached for his sword, only for his hand to grip at nothing. He remembered he’d ruined it back in the battle against the princess bug. Weren’t there weapons in the manor? Fool.

He took a step back, and the moment his boot slid against the pavement, the daemon turned and faced him, it’s burning gaze rooting him to the spot. He tried to run, but couldn’t, his body knowing it would be pointless. With each passing second Diego’s group moved further away, Raynor all on his own as he stared back at the thing.

It raised one hand at him, shaking it from left to right as it sauntered back towards the gate, towards him. Was it casting a spell? Raynor unbuckled his shield, slipping his arm into the strap. It had saved him countless times from certain death, and he prayed it could hold on just one more time.

If his body wouldn’t go back, he would do the opposite. He fell into a sprint, not away from the daemon, but towards it, the manoeuvre of a madman. His every instinct was screaming at him that out of all the bad ideas he’d had, this one was the worst. Yet he willed himself forward, bracing for the moment he made contact with this creature of Scourge.

The daemon’s powerful voice boomed, his very bones vibrating as it spoke in perfect common, the tone at once strange and familiar as it readied to taunt him or speak words of power.

“Hold up. Hold on, wait. Wait wait wait wait wait-!”

He collided with its barrel chest, shoving all his weight into his shield. His own strength surprised him when he looked up and saw the daemon flipping back, the legs pointed up to the sky as it splashed into the water like a failed diver.

Raynor looked over his shoulder, saw Diego’s group maybe a hundred meters away. The old man was waving him over, but Raynor shook his head. He turned around, his knuckles white as he tightened his grip, the daemon’s draconic face breaching the water’s surface. It spat water from its mouth and glared at him.

“What the fuck, Raynor?”

He’d been expecting some sort of threat or attack, and he blinked, his body rife with fear and confusion it didn’t know what to do. How did it know his name?

Swamp muck dribbled down its armoured chest as it rose to its feet, at least two heads taller than Raynor was. He was shaking in his boots from how much pure fear was coursing through him, but he held his ground, shield raised as he fell into a defensive stance.

“Was that because I got up early? Oh sure, when men try and get out once the rutting is over it’s fine, but if a woman does it? She gets bashed in the face!” The daemon clutched at its jaw, exposing great rows of hundreds of small teeth. “Now stand back, I think old Dee’s still in range.”

The curved object he’d seen it holding was in fact a bow, shaped like a hundred conjoined blades, the two ends attached by a silver wire. The cogs in Raynor’s head was turning so much the daemon could almost see them spin. “K-Kylin?” he said. “Is… that you?”

“I’m not that ugly, am I? I’ll let that slide because I like you so much.”

Holding the bow sideways, the daemon notched an arrow from a quiver, and let it fly off to the right, the arrow screaming like a wailing siren. Counting for the strength of the wind, it curved back in a long arc and flew into the group of men, another guard going down.

“B… But…”

The bowstring gave off a thwack~! -as the tension released once more, the range growing as they fled, but the arrow landing right by their feet. The daemon looked down at him, cocking its draconic head to one side. “But what?”

“You’re a… a deamon!”

“Daemon? I prefer to be called… a spirit of the inferno.” It smirked, its smugness multiplied by its draconic features. “Was gonna let you in on it last night, but you were so… deliciously distracting.”

It brought up one of its hands, the fingers tipped with long, ebony claws, and rubbed its chest wistfully, his gaze drawn to its bust. The plates of its body condensed into a pair of teardrop shapes, its claw trailing down between a pronounced cleavage. He’d never seen breasts so big, they were larger than as his head, its underbelly a little smoother at a glance, pink scales contrasting with the red ones on its arms and back.

Its hand cupped at her core, the daemon rubbing its thighs together as it remembered what happened, what he had done to it. Opening one eye, the daemon glanced over to the retreating men. “Damn, looks like old Dee gets to live another day – not that he has much of those left anyway. Thanks a lot.”

Its scowl was met with a frown, Raynor’s mind a mess as he tried to process the whole situation. The floating body of a guardsman bobbed along nearby, the daemon turning its attention to it. It reached down to pluck the arrow that was lodged in its chest, its hindquarters raising into the air. Raynor saw that the tail was covered in over a dozen small thorns, trailing down the appendage in a column. A pair of white lines stood out against the red scales along the flanks, fading as they met her massive rump – Kylin’s birthmark. It was her.

“Checking me out already?” the daemon said, catching him staring. She made of show of standing up, rolling her spine slowly and curving her back into an alluring arch. “I thought about switching to this form as we mated, now that would have been hilarious. Maybe next time.”

Raynor turned away, his boots splashing as he paced for a second, a trembling hand rubbing at his forehead. He looked up at the estate, a little less looming than it was the last time he’d seen it from this angle, but not by much.

“This is… this is your place?” he asked, feeling her eyes on his back.

“Yep. Ramanoth estate in all its obscurity. My dad left it in my… hands, after he pissed off. He’d be turning in his grave if he saw what I’ve done to the place – not that I care.”

His eyes went wide as a hand planted on his shoulder, the claws brushing his neck. Her presence right behind him was driving his instincts crazy. “You look like you’ve seen a… well, a daemon. I thought you knew, or at least suspected something. I wasn’t really subtle about it half the time.”

It clicked. The way she misspoke every common saying, how she’d found him in the dungeon so easily, how she wanted the forge kept secret, the way she talked, carried herself… it was all so obvious now. He should have known, how could he be so blind? Maybe the High Chairman of the Directive had been right.

“Without the light of the gods, darkness will cloud you forever.”

“You lied to me,” he said, his voice shaky as he shrugged off her hand. Her presence had always been strange, but now it was downright unsettling. It was like standing next to a god, something a mortal should never have to experience. “This whole time you were using us, using me. When we laid together, you were… gods.”

He couldn’t believe it. He’d committed the ultimate sin, broken every code and vow his former Paladin brothers had drilled into him. He felt like he was about to have a heart attack.

“Hey I didn’t lie,” she said, raising a finger. “Everything I said was true, except for the parts that weren’t.”

“You said you lived in a treehouse.”

“… Okay, one lie. But the rest was true! I replaced the word daemon with lizard, but that’s it, honest.” She held her hands up in surrender, the gesture odd on such a monstrous creature. “I’m shocked by your shock, Raines. I mean, last night I said mortal once or twice, then I said your name. You didn’t catch on?”

“Why would saying my name matter?”

She shot him a flabbergasted look, then chuckled. “Maybe them ‘holy scriptures’ don’t know as much about Scourge as I thought. There’s a power in what your parents name you that we can exploit. Giving a daemon your name is a bit like giving it the keys to your mind.”

“How?”

“There’s always power in names, we daemons are just more attuned to it. Come, I’ll show you.”

She started walking back to the estate, her tail trailing along behind her. He might have had a chance to start running, but he knew her skill with a bow wouldn’t allow him to get very far, so he followed.

Once out of the muck, she turned, coming so close to Raynor he had to look up to meet her fiery gaze. She reached for his cheek, caressing him with a surprisingly gentle claw. Raynor pushed her arm away with a scowl.

“Aw, what’s with that look?” she asked, snout drooping into a mock pout. “Let me touch you, Raynor.”

She went for his cheek again, but when he tried to move away, his muscles betrayed him. He stood rigid as her claws rubbed over his face, one of them slipping between his lips and pulling at the corner, his eyes tracking her fingers with wild alarm.

“Raynor, kneel.”

His knees buckled, the man fighting against his own body as it obeyed her. Appearing like he’d just been punched, Raynor grunted as he fell to a knee, his face contorting in concentration.

She seemed to be enjoying the whole show, holding her hand in front of him. “Kiss my hand like you did when we met, Raynor.”

He felt possessed, a passenger in his own mind as he watched his lips press against her knuckles. The plates felt like bones, harder than her former lizard scales.

“Raynor,” she began, a playful look in her eyes. “Eat me out.”

He fought against invisible restraints, two forces pulling in different directions as he leaned over. He was eye level with her thighs, gripping one of them in his hand as her groin came closer, the daemon letting him come to her.

Her scent hit him hard, that hadn’t changed from her other form, and he felt a twinge of excitement course through him despite the horror of being controlled. He was so vulnerable, at her complete mercy, his fear and arousal mixing into a humiliating desire he would not admit out loud to anyone.

Somehow he managed to stay away from her crotch, her plates splitting down her mound to form a pair of lips, a line of soft pink against the crimson exterior armour.

“Your strong, Raines. Lesser mortals would be lapping at my snatch by now. You can stop now, Raynor.”

He felt like he’d been drowning this whole time, and was at last allowed to breath, the man backing away from her, his body obeying his commands once more, the man taking a second to catch his breath before speaking.

“Is that why… why you never said anyone’s name before?” he asked.

“Now you’re getting it. I can say your names safely at a distance, but once you’re in earshot, you’re free game. Take Diego for example, he was so suspicious he didn’t want me signing his stupid papers, but all I had to do was ask him to trust me, then I was in. You mortals should be careful who you introduce yourselves to.”

“I’ll remember that,” he mumbled, rubbing his brow with his hand. His heart was still racing from her mind-control, or whatever it was she did to him. “What was the point of all this then? Was this just a game to you?”

“Raynor!” she crooned in a mocking tone. “You really think I’d do that? One teeny, teensy lie and now you insult me. Those bugs had infested my house, wiped out half my servants, and I couldn’t handle them all by myself. Your saw how strong they were.”

“Besides,” she said, shoulders raised in a shrug. “I didn’t force any of you to stay. I was just along for the ride, same as the rest of you.”

He’d fought by this thing’s side. This whole time, he’d come to be infatuated with a daemon. And now she had him under her thumb. His world grew darker as he brooded on that fact.

“Well, husband?” she asked, her draconic lips pulling back in her classic smirk. “Your move. Bag’s out of the cat, you going to slay me and fulfill your old paladin instincts? I won’t even fight back.”

She spread her arms out, her bow dropping with a clank of metal as she presented her empty hands to him. Now was his chance, the man clutching his shield tight. He should despise this thing, and he did, Kylin or whoever this thing was, it was his enemy. A creature from a dimension that had tried more than once to invade the realm, a manipulative succubus that had wormed its way into his head with false promises.

And yet a part of him didn’t hate her. This was the lizard he’d known, right? The one he’d confided in, the one who’d comforted him. It seemed like a huge waste on her part to have gone through all that effort if she didn’t actually care about him. Raynor had always made an effort to keep a plan in mind, even after the Directive, his sense of direction was what kept his head straight, but now he was so confused, it was making him feel sick.

“Starting to get bored over here,” she chided. “Let’s go, what’s the plan?”

“I-I don’t know!” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. You… You should have told me.”

She laughed at him, Raynor frowning like a scolded child as she regained her faculties. “What a great idea. ‘Hey Raynor, name’s Kylin, I’m actually a daemon but don’t tell anyone please’. Didn’t you say you liked a bit of mystery earlier? I was doing you a favour keeping quiet about it.”

“Then why now?” he asked. “Why reveal yourself at all?”

She opened her mouth, then paused, looking up at the sky as she thought. “I… wanted to see what you’d do. Whether you’d come find me, or be on your way, like everyone else.”

She shuffled from one foot to the other, as if suddenly uncomfortable. “I wanted to tell you, but I was… afraid. Afraid you’d act like this, funnily enough.” She gestured at him, a sad smile on her face. “Still, you came looking for me, so that says something.”

She trailed off, the two staring at each other for a long while. He clutched the strap on the shield tight, faltering when he let out a long sigh. Raynor pulled his arm out of the shield grip and placed it on his back with a click. The daemon watched him all the while, tilting her head when he stowed his only weapon. “So… you’re not going to fight me?”

“I don’t see much point in it,” he said.

“Me neither,” she replied, the two having very different trains of thought. The daemon glanced over her shoulder at the estate, huffing. “What a mess those things made. If only they hadn’t wolfed down all that Royal Vinca I bought, the going would have been much easier.”

“That’s why they were so strong,” Raynor muttered. “Vinca’s one of the most potent ingredients. Eating it raw must have caused the bugs to mutate.”

“You’ve dabbled in alchemy?” she said, turning to him. “Of course you have, you’re carrying a million different potions on you. Do you use mortar and pestle, or grinders? I’ve always preferred the autonomy of the grinders…”

“We’re done with small talk, daemon. Kylin. Whoever you are.”

“Might look a tad different, but I’m still the lizard you shared a bed with, Raynor. How’s it feel, knowing you cavorted with a mistress of Scourge?”

“Curse you, monster,” he spat.

“Watch your tongue~” she said, her tone sing-song as she held up a finger. “I can just force you to be complacent, you know. Raynor.”

“Then why don’t you!?” he snapped, marching towards the daemon, whose fiery eyes went wide. Raynor stopped less than an arm’s length away from her imposing body, his hands out to the sides in a shrug. “Don’t lead me on like a sick dog. You played your game, and I lost. Do what you will and stop stalling.”

“I think we’re on very different pages, Raynor,” she said, her warm breath blowing his hair back.

“Are we? Because from where I’m standing, it looks pretty black and white to me. You got those mercs killed, you fooled me into trusting you, and now all you have to do is just say the word and I’ll be your… your toy.” He pointed an accusing finger at her. “You’re sick. You’re a monster, and I’ve… I’ve failed.”

He put his back against the side of the gate, slowly slinking down to the ground as reality dawned on him. The promise, the one he’d made to Aaron, to himself – that was what all this was for, and now it was gone.

He was trapped in this daemon’s grasp, and she’d done it so easily, that was what really hurt. Raynor never cried, but he felt the wet sting in his eyes as memories buried deep began to surface.

His brother’s words had been so fragile, Raynor barely heard them even as he pressed his ear to Aaron’s bloodied mouth.

“You promised…”

Kylin, standing over him. He buried his face in his hand, blocking her out, blocking everything out. Just like back then, he realised. Plates scraped against the pavement as the daemon planted down beside him.

“Kinre.”

His chest hitching as he fought back a sob, he glanced at her, saw she was leaning back so much she was almost lying down, her eyes level with his. “What?”

“My name, my real name, is Kinre,” she said. “Our power over names goes both ways.”

“Then…” He swallowed a lump down his throat. “Why tell me?”

“To win you over, fool,” she said. “You gave me your name, now I will give you mine. If this is the only way to prove myself to you, then so be it.”

“You’re not… not going to keep me here?”

She laughed, the sound not at all fitting her appearance. “If I’d wanted a mindless lover I’d have slept with a bug.”

He’d seen Scourge corrupt the realm firsthand, saw creatures just like her exploit weakness in any mortal. Even through her reassurance he suspected trickery.

Sensing his doubt, she added: “When I was little, my father liked to impose his will over the servants. There was this one mortal, Saul, I was very fond of. He wasn’t afraid of me like the others, and he didn’t respect me out of fear of death or punishment, he just… treated me like a regular kid. He let me go out and play in the swamps when father wasn’t watching, pushed me when I sat on the swing, read my favourite books to me…” A wistful smile curled the corners of her mouth. “With him, I could almost trick myself into thinking I was a mortal myself, doing such… mundane things. Things dad didn’t have time to do.”

Her smile turned to a frown. “He caught Saul giving me this box of colourful sticks – some Ancient thing called rayons or something – and he blew up. Saul was only servant who ever talked back to dad. It was the best thing I liked about him, about mortals in general I suppose. Then dad, he…”

She scratched at the pavement with a long nail. “He spoke Saul’s name, told him to reveal all his secrets. Saul blurted out everything about what me and him had done, and dad was furious. Said I spent too much time with mortals. Then he took Saul into his chambers, and I heard… I heard the struggling, then… silence. A little later Saul walked out with this blank look on his face, like he wasn’t really there. I’ll never forget that moment. There was just nothing behind his eyes, no awareness, and when I asked him what was wrong, he said: ‘Nothing mistress’. Fucking mistress. Saul never called me that, not until dad washed his brain clean that night.”

When I was older I figured out dad… subjected all his partners like that. They might fight at first, but by the time he was finished, they were so… docile, cattle for his fantasies. It made me sick, and I don’t want to be like that, like him.”

It was startling to hear Kylin pour herself out to him like that, she’d been so elusive thus far, and he would have wrapped an arm over her shoulder had her very presence not made his skin crawl. “So no, I won’t keep you here, Raynor. I watched my only friend get his identity stolen, and I can’t let myself stoop to that level. I just can’t.”

“I’m sorry, Ky… Kinre. That couldn’t have been easy.”

Something happened when he said her name. It was similar to when the hairs on one’s neck stands up right after a lightning strike – a surge of energy hanging in the air. The daemoness bristled, inhaling like she’d suddenly forgotten how to breathe.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Y-Yes. I’ve… not heard someone else say my name, ever. Not even from Saul.” She paused. “Would you… say it again for me?”

He repeated her name, and she trembled, but this time the reaction was shared, Raynor feeling a pleasant tingle run down his spine. Perhaps this was as intimate as a daemon could get, the trade of names the ultimate sign of trust, quite literally giving yourself over to another. It was humbling, and yet he felt ashamed to be on the receiving end of the gesture. He’d been so convinced her intentions had been malicious.

“I’m not a fan of the touchy-feely stuff,” she said. “but that was…” She shivered, her flaming eyes scrutinising him when he didn’t quite share her euphoria. “Does my body really bother you so much? If you want me to morph back, I can-”

“It’s fine,” he replied quickly. “Well, not fine really, just… takes some getting used to.”

“I get that a lot,” she joked, but something about her smile came off as forced. “Anyway, sorry for going on a rant. Haven’t had someone around I could just… talk to. You’ve seen my servants.”

She leaned back and stretched her chest out to get comfortable, falling silent as she looked up at the cloudless sky. He was distracted by her body, all armour and bone, and yet it held a delicacy that hinted at her gender all the same, slim and lithe despite the many plates that covered her curves.

He remembered the conversation they’d had, the ‘hypothetical’ about talking to a daemon, and he felt pity swell inside him. How many times had she tried to get someone just to listen to her, purely for the sake of conversation? He felt compelled to rectify his initial disgust of her.

“Mortar and pestle,” he suddenly said.

“Hey?” Kinre glanced at him.

“You asked which I preferred,” he clarified. “With the mortar, you get much better control over the fineness of the powder.”

Her frown was replaced with a smile he’d seen many women make before, the kind one makes when they’re eager, but don’t want to give such away. “I prefer the autom… the autinim… Autonomy, of grinders, myself. It makes a difference when brewing huge batches. Like healing potions, for example…”

6

The more they talked, the more Raynor felt comfortable around the daemoness, the shock of seeing her like this being chipped away with every exchanged word.

“So when you said you couldn’t read or write, were you telling the truth?”

“Still assuming I’m a liar because I’m from Scourge?”

“It’s hard to believe is all.”

“My dad tried to teach me, but I could never get the hang of it. Bad teacher is my excuse.”

They’d elected to walk around the estate, man and daemon strolling about like old friends. Raynor glanced up at her and said, “You say dad like you’re forcing it out. Do you hate him?”

“Wouldn’t you?” she asked. “He was a sick, perverted, twisted old goat who controlled everything I did. I’m glad he’s dead.”

Her words were laced with malice, the fact it was aimed at another daemon surprising Raynor. “But he tried to help you read, didn’t he? He had to have made an effort.”

Kinre scoffed, but he could see she was a little unsure. “Maybe. I was more like an afterthought, even after he erased Saul from my life.”

“Maybe he was afraid he was being replaced.”

“He’d be right,” she said, giving him a hard look. “You know it sorta sounds like you’re making excuses for my dad, Raynor. Trust me, he was more horrible than I’m letting on.”

“I know, it’s just… When you’ve lost everything, family is the one thing you can always turn to. What about your mother?”

“Better. But that’s like comparing cancer with herpes. She preferred to shower me with gifts to make up for not being around. When she finally decided she’d had enough, she left me with the piece of shit she apparently loved.”

“She didn’t ask if you wanted to go with her?”

She shook her head, going suspiciously quiet. Raynor reached over and touched her arm. He still felt that strange, powerful aura she emitted, but he was getting used to it.

“Have you tried to contact her?”

“Why would I?” she spat. “I don’t want to see her.”

“You might not want to, but to me it sounds like you need to. If you long for company, why not turn to your mother? Who apart from her knows you so well?”

“You do,” she replied, glancing at his hand. “I don’t need them if I’ve got you.” She tried to smile, but faltered. “I called your problems childish, Raynor, but look at me – a dumb girl with mommy and daddy issues.”

They shared a silent moment, Raynor bringing his arm back. “I once thought along those same lines, Kinre. I thought I could ignore my family, that it wasn’t my duty. Then something happened, something… that made me see how wrong I was, how much they relied on me. It’s not too late for you, my lady, she might be older than you, but she still needs you. Mom’s always do.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she wasn’t arguing. “Just… have a think about it,” he said. “promise me that. She must have had her reasons, ask her why.”

“I…” She cut herself off with a sigh, soon giving him a nod. “I’ll think on it, sure.”

A few minutes later, and the pair had returned to the manor, the daemoness leading the way into its clean interior. Save for the pungent smell of recent death, the servants had cleared away all traces of the battle. Kinre waved Huggy over, the man beaming when Kinre praised him for his efforts.

“Thank you, mistress. Shall we move on to the villa next?” The man didn’t seem a bit disturbed by her presence. He must have been living in this place his whole life.

“Tomorrow. You all deserve some rest. How many of you did the bugs get?”

“A few of the other shelters were found during your absence, mistress. Ten of us are missing.”

“Shame.” Kinre mulled over this for a second. “I’ll see about getting us some more hands.”

She noticed Raynor frowning at her, and she shrugged. “What? I meant volunteers, of course. I haven’t forced any of these mortals to stay – they like it here.”

“Do you?” Raynor asked Huggy. The man nodded his head vigorously.

“Of course, master. There are no bandits, plenty of beds, no taxes, and as much food as the mistress provides.”

“Plus I only beat them twice a week,” Kinre added. Raynor went wide-eyed at that, but the daemoness laughed at him. “Joking.”

“What about the bugs?” Raynor asked. “Aren’t you afraid more things from Scourge will come out? And those pits down in the dungeons, there must be better places to sleep.”

“Mistress will protect us,” Huggy said. “She had those shelters built in the event something like this would happen. As for the dungeons, they’ve not been used since mistress became the proprietor. Would you like some lunch, master?”

The man seamed more than just complacent, and Raynor didn’t see much point in pressing him further. He didn’t think Kinre was forcing him to stay. “I’m fine,” he said, shaking his head.

The servant, or Huggy, bowed, excusing himself. The daemoness met his eyes when he scrutinised her. “I told them they could go after dad died, but they didn’t want to, honest. There’s just as much danger out there than here in the swamp.”

“They don’t seem to mind that you’re… you know.”

“Must be used to it.” She gestured at the table, which was still snapped in places except for this end. “Wanna sit down? I’m still recovering after you wacked me with that shield back there.”

“I thought you were casting a spell.”

“I was waving!”

They picked two unbroken chairs and rested their legs, the daemoness leaning on her elbows as she studied him. Raynor met her striking eyes, shifting in his seat as he raised a questioning hand.

“What’s next, then?” he asked. “Place is clear, got plenty of Diego’s gold.”

“The old man had some good ideas. Maybe I’ll steal them for myself.”

“The trade route he talked about?”

“Why not? We’ve got room to spare, and the estate could use the traffic. It gets quiet round here with just me and the servants.”

“What if someone finds out you’re… from Scourge? Aren’t you worried?”

“You could always move in, Raynor, the place would get louder then.”

“You’re pretty good at concealing yourself, I suppose,” he said, immediately retracting his statement. Kinre laughed, the sound was dainty and odd, coming from a daemon. Scourge knew only pain and suffering, at least that’s what Raynor believed just yesterday.

“Question,” she said. “You reacted pretty strongly back there when you thought I’d force you to stay, and now you’re deflecting my invitations. I can’t imagine someone like you is afraid of something so petty as commitment, so what is it?”

“I’ve…” He paused, looking like he didn’t want to continue. He remembered their conversations back during the clean-up, how relieved he felt when he finally relented to someone who wanted to listen. Even if she was a daemon, he couldn’t deny her genuine interest in him.

Screw it, he’d come this far with her, daemon or lizard.

“I’ve heard of a place, a long way from here, beyond the Curtain.”

She raised an eyebrow at that, the movement more a result of her plates shifting to mimic the look, rather than actual muscles doing it. “Plenty of my brethren call the Northern Wastes home. Why would you want to go there?”

“There’s a being, someone who’s a master of death and life, and can see what has and has yet to happen.”

“If you want your fortune told why don’t you go visit a genie? I could even do you one better – cross my palm with silver and I’ll show you what you’ll become.”

He grinned. “I imagine the word ‘husband’ will be sprinkled throughout the whole telling.”

“Only once or twice.” She fought back a smirk and failed. “You know that anyone who claims to see the future is lying, right? Every action we make blurs the lines of time into thousands of different scenarios. They’d just pluck one out at random and tell you what could be.”

“It’s not the future that interests me,” he said.

“Ooh, you like being cryptic, don’t you? You don’t have to be a stranger to me. I know you, and you know me.”

“Why don’t you try using your name magic? I’d have to tell you then.”

“That’s crossed my mind,” she admitted. “but I want you to make that decision, not as payment or something, but because you want to tell me. Plus,” she added. “I find it amusing subverting your views on my kind.”

Her hand, twice as large as his, coiled over his own. The plates pinched a little where their skin met, segmented into dozens of smaller sections just like his armour, but he found himself squeezing her hand back. They fell into a silence once more, interrupted when Huggy walked over, a bundle of cloth in his arms.

“Forgive me for disturbing you, mistress, master, but we recovered a possession master may be interested in.

“What is it?” Raynor asked, Huggy placing the cloth down on the table. Pinching one of the corners, the servant revealed what lay beneath the sheet. It was Raynor’s sword, once holy and filled with power, now sat as two black husks. The blade had been broken a few inches above the guard where Raynor had impaled the bug princess.

He touched the pommel with his finger, not sure how to feel about it now that he had time to reflect. Was that relief he felt, or guilt? It had lost its shine since he’d left the Directive, and yet he remembered all the times it had held death at arm’s length.

“If I may suggest,” Huggy said. “there is a reputable smith in the village neighbouring the swamps. Master should visit him.”

“You can’t repair that,” Kinre said, keeping a suspicious distance away from the weapon, like it was a cockroach that had crawled its way onto the table. “Not even if you gathered all the glue in the world.”

“They told me it would never break,” Raynor said, his voice longing.

“Yet another lie those zealots fed you,” the daemoness said.

“Maybe. Either way, I’ll need to replace it. Maybe I should have taken both those bags of gold after all, I’ll need quality.”

“I think I can help with that,” Kinre said, getting to her feet. “Come.”

“Where are we going?” he asked, standing and following.

“The Northern Wastes are dangerous. The daemons there won’t be as friendly as me, and they’ll use deadly weapons to either kill or enslave you. You’ll need something just as powerful.”

They went over to the other side of the manor, the wall lined with armour sets donned on skeletal mannequins, above them hung at least a dozen weapons mounted on ornamental plaques.

Kinre gave him a ‘wait here’ gesture, then walked towards one of the larger weapons, suspended at around her head-height, which would have been unreachable to Raynor without a stool.

He examined the other gear, admiring their quality. The paladin armouries were envious to smaller organisations, heavily guarded, by Kinre just had all this laying out in the open. There were armour sets for both humans and daemon’s, the latter sets so large and exaggerated they may have been purely for aesthetic purposes.

“Here you go,” Kinre said, snapping Raynor out of his observations.

She held up a scabbard covered in ornate runes he couldn’t read, the sound of metal dragging against leather as she unsheathed the weapon. Raynor’s first impression was that of a greatsword. The blade was thick, one side straight while the other was serrated, sweeping in and out of the general width in places before meeting at a curved point at the end. Near the middle sat what looked like a spherical pulley, the circular edges just barely visible as thin, curving protrusions when flush with the blade. A triangular plate sat between the pulley and the blade, the point angled down towards the weapon’s hilt.

The handguard was thin and short, one side angled down over the handle protectively, similar to that of a cutlass, the metal shaped like one of Kinre’s claws. The handle itself was long enough that one could wield it with one hand or both comfortably. The capping pommel was a quad of blades, shaped just like the heads of her arrows.

Woven across the handle and guard were rivers of runes carved into the steel. The material itself was not actually steel – it was black and crude, much like Kinre’s scales, from another plane of existence altogether. The weapon appeared more like a tapestry by how many runes lay carved in the lower half of the body, twirling over the blade and glowing when the light caught the metal at just the right angle. The whole thing looked like the giant tooth off some great beast of old.

“I helped my mother forge this blade,” Kinre began, twirling the weapon around and flourishing it a few times. It made this odd, whistling sound as it cleaved through the air, making Raynor’s eardrums rattle. “It was meant to be another gift from her, but I ended up preferring the bow. Have you ever used a transforming weapon before?”

She flicked the weapon to one side, Raynor hearing the sound of something clicking. Half the blade fell inwards, anchored by the pulley as the upper half of the blade folded down into the lower. It slipped into a fine groove built into the width of the blade, while the triangular tip shot out like it was spring-loaded. Now the weapon was a shortsword, Kinre swiping at in imaginary opponent.

“Once, back in my academy days. I wasn’t very good,” he admitted.

“Nothing a little practice won’t fix. Give it a spin.”

She held it out, one hand on the wicked blade. Raynor reached for it, then hesitated. The weapon was powerful, he could feel it in the air, but it was from Scourge – the very act of touching it was a sin. They said the daemonic material corrupted any mortal who touched it.

Kinre’s hot breath washed over him as she chuckled. “It’s just a tool, Raynor. Tools are meant to be used, and I’d not let you leave the estate without being properly armed.”

Pausing a few moments longer, Raynor made his decision, clutching the weapon’s handle and bringing it up to his face. It felt warm in his hands, a little on the heavier side to what he was used to. He swung it a few times to test the balance, nodding to himself.

“Your mother’s a fine smith,” he said. “As are you.”

“There’s a catch just where your thumb is resting, press it and it will flip into its longer form.”

He felt the groove, like a little button, and he pressed it. The blade swung out in a tight arc, the pulley inverting as the shorter blade slinked away. The man holding it two-handed. He’d have to get used to not accidently transforming the weapon while in the middle of a swing, or getting nicked by his own weapon.

“How’s it feel?” Kinre seemed delighted to watch him practice a few basic moves.

“Heavy,” he said, finishing with an upward cleave, his muscles straining to accommodate the weight of the longer form.

“Oh, right, that’s because you don’t know its name,” she said. “The power of names isn’t just for people. Plenty of things in Scourge are affected, weapons included.”

“And what’s this thing called?”

She came over, grabbing one of his hands and guiding his fingers over one of the runes, Kinre tapping a nail on one in particular. “This here is its name. You probably can’t read it, but just remember the details. Come close.”

She beckoned a finger at him, and he leaned in, the daemoness cupping her mouth as her snout hovered by his ear, like conspiring children telling secrets.

“Stormfang,” she whispered, her husky voice resonating through his very thoughts. He repeated the word, and suddenly the weapon felt different, as if its weight had been cut in half. A sensation like the time he spoke Kinre’s true name bloomed over his consciousness, Stormfang’s handle pulsing ever so slightly beneath his palm as if it were alive.

He asked her how it got the name, Kinre stepping back and grinning. “Grab the handle in both arms, and twist like you’re wringing out a cloth. You’ll see.”

He pulled the sword to his shoulder, following her instructions. The handle was actually made of two different cylindrical plates, the groove between them going unnoticed until they twisted with his movements. The hairs on his arms stood on end as energy began to coil into the room, Raynor’s eyes going wide as wisps of electricity, like those of lightning strikes in a stormy sky, wreathed around the blade and guard, inching their way towards the tip.

He levelled Stormfang towards the dining table, flinching when a sound like rolling thunder echoed throughout the manor. Bang~! A strike of pure energy lanced out from Stormfang and obliterated the already ruined table, exploding into a dozen pieces of wood going in all directions. Raynor recoiled, even Kinre had gotten a fright the way she’d covered her ear-holes.

“Probably should have tested it outside,” she chuckled. “Ah well. There’s your answer, Raynor. You ever need to deal with someone at range, just twist the handle and point. Each charge takes a while to replenish, and there is a bit of a wind-up time as you saw, so use it sparingly.”

“This thing is…” he trailed off. Powerful was what he wanted to say, but an old adage from his mentor held his tongue. Power lies in the user, not the weapon. He’d demonstrated this when he beat Raynor in a one-on-one, Raynor using a halberd, his mentor armed with just his fists.

“… is too much,” he finally said. “You’re just going to give me this?”

“It’s no wedding ring,” Kinre said. “but I’ve no use for it, and you need a weapon. Win win.”

“Thank you, my lady.” He sheathed it into its leather scabbard, holding it under an arm. Some deep part of him was screaming out that this was wrong, that he shouldn’t accept it, but Raynor ignored it.

“Save your thanks,” Kinre said. “Don’t start thinking I’m handing out free gifts here.”

She came forward, draping her arms over his shoulders and resting her chin over his head, covering him in her warm, armoured body. Stormfang clattered to the ground as he recoiled, but Kinre held him in a firm grip, forcing him into her embrace. The metallic scent of Scourge made his nose wrinkle, but underneath that he smelled something else, something that reminded him of last nights… proclivities.

“Can’t get something for nothing,” he mused, the daemoness chuckling into his hair as she breathed him in.

“You have been paying attention. Your armour – take it off, Raynor.”

His hands fumbled at the clasps, even as Raynor willed them not to. “Y-You said you wouldn’t force me,” he said.

“To stay,” she corrected. “And I’m not. I just want to make things a little… kinky.”

She cupped his manhood through his skirt, the man grunting when she gave him a rough squeeze. Her huge talons could rend his privates with one wrong move, and yet there was a delicacy as Kinre helped him shrug off his plate. He felt like a spectator as his body was soon void of his armour, the sense of vulnerability making him more receptive to her explorations as she ran her claws up and down his torso.

He grimaced when her long togue snaked out of her mouth. It was thicker than her lizard tongue, and black like an eel. She lapped at his lips, trying to pry them open and frowning when he didn’t oblige.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “We’ve already shared a night together, why not make it two?”

“Y-You’re…” He tried to deny the stimulation, but his body wasn’t having any of it, already standing at full mast with a few quick brushes of Kinre’s hand. “Can’t you… turn back?”

“I could, but I’m not,” she said. “If we want to consummate our love, you should be with the real me. Besides, you’ll come round to this body. It has certain things I think you’ll like.”

She encouraged him to explore her, grabbing his wrists and pulling his hands to her chest. The familiar curves were still there, the scaley armour of her underbelly softer than he thought it would be, shining like glass as it reflected the sunlight spilling in from the left. Her feminine anatomy was still there, hidden beneath her daemonic appearance, his hands following a well-endowed breast as he travelled lower.

His fingers traced the tear-drop shaped globes, the plates thinning out until the bumps between were microscopic, the texture almost like flesh. Raynor’s thumb traced over a protrusion, the man blinking when Kinre released a breathy gasp.

Looking closer – Kinre no longer guiding him – he brushed over the bump again until he saw it. It was a nipple, swollen and red and familiar to him. A quick exploration of the other breast let him know there were two.

“Told you,” Kinre purred, Raynor giving her tits a squeeze. She inhaled beautifully, her breasts spilling through his fingers like dough. Raynor was glad he could get at least some reaction out of the proud daemon.

“Your hands are so soft, but your tongue must be softer, Raynor.”

He wasn’t sure if he needed to be compelled, his thoughts a mess as he leaned down and dragged his tongue over a nipple. The daemoness clutched him harder, her tail coiling round his waist as she leaned all her weight on him. He mouthed around the protuberance, occasionally introducing his teeth to chew on her sensitive bud, flicking his tongue out a couple of times he knew would make any female squeal.

“Bite them,” she said. “Bite them, Raynor.”

She pushed her generous bust into his face as he did as commanded, her claws slithering down his back almost in desperation as she sought to further the stimulation. His lips caught on the tiny plates that surrounded her nipple as he switched between chewing and licking, Raynor glaring up at her as he mouthed her like a babe, the sight sending Kinre into hysterics.

“I don’t know how you can be so slow sometimes,” she breathed, taking his face in her hands and angling him up. “The power of names goes both ways, remember? You just have to say something, anything… and I could fulfill any fantasy you have.”

Raynor clicked his tongue, her taste strong on the roof of his mouth. “I-I don’t know if I’m into that.”

“Don’t hesitate. Just say something,” she insisted.

“Kinre,” he said, the daemoness shivering as she waited for him to continue. “Kinre, s-suck my dick.”

They were both silent for a second, then Kinre burst into laughter, burying her muzzle into his shoulder to try and muffle herself. Raynor felt a blush creep up on him as he joined her, feeling more than a little silly.

“You’ve a way with words,” Kinre said after she recovered. “but I like it when you’re blunt.”

She licked at his neck, her teeth grazing his sensitive flesh as she bent her knees, lowering down until she was eye-level with his crotch. Sliding off his pants, she exposed his swollen member to the air, her hot breath washing over it as she sighed at the sight.

Licking her chops like a hungry dog, Kinre opened her maw, which was lined with hundreds of tiny, pin-needle teeth with hooked tips. Raynor’s heart skipped a beat when he imagined them raking across his flesh. The daemoness noticed his apprehension and chuckled.

“Relax, I won’t bite. Much.”

She lolled her tongue out, its dark length coiling round his shaft like a snake binding its prey, her spittle coating his groin in a wet sheen that made lewd, wet noises as she popped his tip into her mouth. The swept pattern of the tops of her front teeth began gliding along his sensitive head. One sudden move from either of them and he’d never have kids, but the fear only added to the stimulation Raynor felt, Kinre’s warm spittle coating his glans as she suckled his tip like it was a lollipop.

She rolled him about in her maw, peering up at him and drinking in his flushed features. Her tongue snaked out and circled his shaft in one quick stroke, lapping at his pubic hair before snaking back to focus on his glans. The movement caught Raynor off guard, the man bucking into her mouth on reflex, but Kinre held him by the waist, torturing his tip with her deft tongue and warm saliva, leaving the rest of his dick cold and unattended.

She chewed him like that until he was about ready to use her name magic again, but she beat him to the punch, Raynor grunting when Kinre took in all of his length and kissed his belly, sending a fresh jolt of pleasure down his spine.

Her tongue drew deft circles, exploring every inch of him and drowning him in her saliva. Then she began to chew, her gums as soft as satin as they flexed and contracted around his length, her teeth raking across his shaft, not hard enough to pierce the skin, but very close to doing so. That was probably why she was setting the pace – Raynor keeping as still as he could as she subjected his senses into a hellish overdrive.

Her lips rolled and massaged the base of his dick, the daemoness switching up her tactics every few moments, never going after one particular spot for long. Raynor felt like he was melting inside her mouth, his manhood engulfed in her sweet flesh, now hers to play with as she saw fit. Had he really been so irked by her daemonic origins earlier? What had he been thinking?

Kinre had her eyes closed as she sucked him off, but now they opened with a sly look, gazing up at him in all their explosive intensity. She was so focused on him even as her mouth worked him over wonderfully, Raynor just able to meet her staring contest through the haze of euphoria.

You’re mine, that look said, Raynor failing to supress an embarrassing sound as the controlled, rolling contractions of her mouth sent him towards a crescendo of pleasure. Although she couldn’t laugh in her state, he felt her hum through her throat, relishing in his reaction.

He tensed as her tongue wrapped around the base of his shaft, then basked in her warm maw as she paused to switch up her approach. The reprieve only lasted a moment, Kinre gripping his buttocks tight as she began to swallow. Once, twice, three times, a fourth…

Raynor’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, his hips thrusting in vain as her grip was ironclad. How she could go so long without gagging he did not know. Her face mashed against his crotch, his dick reaching the back of her long mouth, loud, sucking noises filling the manor as the daemoness worked him over – he couldn’t focus on one particular thing, all he felt was heaven.

Kinre sensed he was close, clamping her chops down hard and her tongue pulsing in a rhythmic contraction like she was milking a cow. Raynor grabbed at the horns sprouting from her head, encouraging her to move back and forth. With all her drool he slipped in and out of her with a slick ease, her tongue making wet, sucking sounds as she drew out his seed.

It was all too much. Raynor unloaded into her mouth, spurting a torrent of his doomed children onto the roof of her mouth. The second she tasted his emission, the daemoness lidded her eyes, clamping down and drawing out a second load, followed by another. Her consistent swallowing technique was driving him up the wall. Raynor clamped his eyes shut as he rode it out, his body bucking so hard even the daemon was having trouble keeping him in place.

At last his orgasm ended, Raynor relaxing as he came to his senses. Kinre unfurled her tongue from his shaft, a mess of her saliva and his fluids dribbling down his thighs and her chin. Chuckling, the daemoness angled her head up and opened her mouth, giving him a view of the absolute mess he’d sprayed over her jaws.

That was his seed inside a daemon’s mouth. His path was set now.

She licked her teeth slowly, like she was savouring the taste of his emission. She smacked her lips with a refreshed “Aahh…” -then began to lick his crotch clean, Raynor’s sensitive body bucking under her sudden attentions. He didn’t think anyone tasted this good, but Kinre didn’t seem to be able to get enough of him, lapping at his crotch like a hungry wolf.

He rested a hand on one of her thorns, panting as the daemoness cleaned him up to the last drop. Her eyes were drunk with lust, bright in contrast to the rest of her darker, scaley body. They were like two flaming gems in a statue of pure ruby. For a creature of Scourge, she was beautiful in her own way, dangerous and yet alluring.

“Mortal seed,” Kinre breathed, wiping her snout with the back of her hand, then licking that clean too with a noisy slurp. “Nothing else like it. So potent, so… raw when I’m like this. And now I’ve got an unlimited supply of it.”

“I-I’ll need a minute…” he said, but Kinre held up a silencing hand.

“Not while you’re with me, you won’t. All I have to do is ask, and you’ll be ready whenever I want.”

She eyed his recovering erection with a primal hunger, seeing it as nothing more than her toy now. No, he thought, he couldn’t let her have her way like this, his pride wouldn’t allow it. She’d been so confident ever since they’d met, always leading him along. She might say she wouldn’t keep him here, but he couldn’t just let her use him like this, she’d drive him mad.

She licked the head of his dick, ready for round two. Raynor fought against the rising pleasure, and planted one foot on her chest. She hadn’t been expecting the kick, the daemoness falling away, bracing against her elbow as she hit the ground.

“On your front, Kinre,” Raynor growled. He didn’t know what had come over him, and neither did the daemoness, a look of concern blooming over her face as she rolled over.

Getting to his knees, he bent over and wrapped an arm over her stomach from behind, pulling her tight against his body. Her tail waved to and fro as it slid over his chest, Raynor putting his face to her neck as his hand reached over and cupped at her breast. Her oversized orb deformed as he kneaded at it, every now and then giving her nipple a little flick or twist. Kinre nuzzled her cheek to his, delighting in his new attentions and licking at his face as she shuddered against him.

“You want to be on top?” she asked, rubbing her generous rump against his erection. He guessed daemons were always the dominant ones – time to change that. He gripped her tail and pulled it up, exposing the long slit that ran down between her cheeks. Her opening was puffy and swollen, her most intimate plates wet with her excitement. It was a little larger than her lizard passage, and ringed with very small thorns where her cheeks met her groin, her lips winking up at him as he examined her.

“What’s the matter, paladin?” she cooed. “You want to purify this daemon with your holy blade?”

“I’m not a paladin anymore,” he answered.

“Then prove it,” she growled. “Breed me. Leave your old life behind and fuck the real me.”

He gripped her hips, angling his erection towards her opening, which dripped with her fem-nectar, her lips tensing as his manhood brushed her genitals. His body egged him on to bury himself all the way to the hilt inside her, but he wanted to tease her, reaching down and sliding a finger up and down her lips, tracing the little thorns that ringed the flanks of her vagina. The daemoness quivered, burying her face into an arm as he slid a finger inside.

Her walls contracted around him, the powerful muscles pulling his finger deeper in, all the way to the knuckle. Now it was her turn to fight while he restrained her, gripping at her generous cheeks and waist, exploring her huge body while he fingered her.

Her backside was toned like an athletes, muscles hidden beneath armoured plates flexing as she squirmed, the daemoness chuckling into a hand as he traced her muscular shoulder blades with his free hand.

“Raynor, that tickles.”

He grinned, not many of his previous partners so giddy like her. He added another finger, a fresh shudder rolling over Kinre’s body. He felt for the bud of her clitoris, his digits burning up from how much heat her passage was giving off.

She watched him over a shoulder, a low growl in her throat as she coiled her tail round his waist, wrapping him in scales from all sides, the appendage pushing him forward while she raised her rump. She’d had enough of foreplay, and Raynor obliged, slipping his fingers out of her with a pop and guiding his erection towards her opening.

He teased both himself and her as his glans brushed her lips, drawing shapes over her groin, Kinre’s growling growing in volume. No going back, he thought. But did he even want to go back?

He didn’t, he decided, pushing his hips into hers, their thighs clapping together. His head met a wall of resistance when he pushed past her lips, and then he broke through, the two sharing a mutual sigh as he slid his length inside her, inch by inch his dick disappearing between her waiting lips.

Like her other form, there were layers of concentric rings lining up her love tunnel, each one he brushed against sending sparks of intense pleasure through him, stars appearing in his vision when he went balls deep. Her walls were slimy and soft compared to the rings, which were hard and rough, Raynor’s senses overloading when they pulled and narrowed like someone had slipped a whole pack of cock rings over his length.

Kinre smirked over her shoulder at him, bumping against him without warning. He grunted, holding onto her frenzied tail with one hand while the other held her waist. “I can always flip us over if you need a break, Raynor,” she purred.

“I’ll wipe that smirk off your face, my lady,” he muttered. “Just you wait.”

“Oh, I can wait all day, paladin.” She met his thrusts with her own, her larger, and far stronger body setting the pace for their lovemaking. The use of his former profession spurred him on, Raynor trying not to focus on how her luxurious walls clamped over him, soft as velvet, contracting in waves that seemed to drive up his emission faster than he could hold it back.

Raynor’s eyes glazed over, her wide passage clenching and unclenching, quivering all around him. Her vent was so warm he felt like he’d melt inside her. Her rings pulled his foreskin back, exposing his sensitive flesh to her cruel walls each time he bottomed out. Their rhythm was thrown to the wind, Kinre’s hips bumping his hard and wild as she sought to use his organ to scratch her deepest itches. His length glided across her silky walls, so lubricated by her prior saliva and her excitement, the only friction coming from her torturous rings, which pulled taught all along his length.

Their hips met with enough force to leave bruises, Raynor placing his hands on her flanks and feeling up the curves of her pinched waist. She may look like Scourge incarnate, her appearance inspiring a hint of fear, but his hands didn’t care, her plates pinching in all the right spots to give her an hourglass figure.

Her thick tail slapped against his chest, leaving a red welt as it curved round his neck. The thing was so long it snaked down the length of his back and cupped his buttocks, where it applied pressure every time he met her thrusts, deepening their coupling. The sensation of his head hitting the wall of her womb sent his mind into a frenzy, Raynor’s world fading away until all that remained was Kinre. Her scales rubbing against his skin, her little moans and growls, it was all becoming too much, and the daemoness knew it, her tail helping her reinvigorate their mating with a pace that could almost be described as aggressive.

“You lied to me,” he said, Kinre’s expression faltering as she met his eyes. His hand snaked over her waist. “You tricked me, played me for a fool since the beginning…”

He let his words hang in the air. He was close, but he needed more time. His dick was so hard he thought he might erupt any second, but he held on, his hand trailing lower, lower…

“Yet you can’t even say the most basic expression correctly. Here’s one for you to learn…”

He snatched at her tail, bringing the muscular end to his lips, while at the same time leaning down to cup one of her breasts. He suckled the tail into his mouth, kissing and biting it, while pinching her breast as hard as he could.

Her reaction was fierce, the daemon’s eyes going wide, her back curving into a beautiful arc. He’d remembered what she’d said about lizard’s sensitive tails, and guessed it was the same for daemons. Hadn’t she said she’d been substituting? Either way, he felt a shudder rock through her body, her thrusts pausing for a moment as she let out a sultry moan.

“The tables have turned,” he said. Her breasts met the floor as she collapsed, Raynor laying over her as he screwed her with an angry look on his face. He gripped at her haunches, those magical rings inside her vagina working him towards his climax. He tried to fight a grimace as he mouthed and kissed her tail – the appendage was alien and not quite what he was used to pleasuring – but from the way Kinre’s tongue was lolling out the side of her mouth, and how her walls contracted each time he pulled at it, it was having the intended affect.

He switched between nibbling and biting down on her tail, knowing he couldn’t hurt her, her tail going slack in his arm as she relaxed below him. The air was thick with their combined musk, Raynor’s other hand switching between kneading her breast and flicking at her sensitive nipple, reducing the daemon to a mess that his male pride relished in.

Kinre’s legs went rigid, her body tensing, her eyes meeting his and conveying a silent message that she was close. She met his thrusts with wild desire, the two like animals as they fed off each other’s stimulation, winding their way up to a shared crescendo.

She wasn’t lying about her tail’s sensitivity, her walls contracting violently as a fresh wave of her juices coated his shaft. That was the last straw, Raynor sailing over the edge himself as he exploded inside of her once more, grunting as her walls narrowed. Her tail tightened just a little more across his hips, bringing him deeper towards her womb to ensure fertilisation.

His eyes blazed open when a powerful suction gripped at him, her insides sealing around him and squeezing so hard he was worried he’d be crushed. Those hard ridges of her rings dug into his length in waves of contractions, milking out his climax with a cruel efficiency. Kinre’s draconic face raised to the sky, and she wailed, as if mortally wounded, Raynor adding his own embarrassing cries as he came.

It wouldn’t end. Load after load, his seed was wrenched from his loins to hers, flooding her waiting womb with his warm ejaculate as her ridges and bumps rung him dry.

“More, Raynor” she groaned. “more…”

It wasn’t stopping, like the daemon was sucking the very life force out of him through his cock. He shouldn’t have been surprised – daemons lived on tempting mortals, and to him her body was designed with one specific sin in mind. She wasn’t going to spill a drop, and she wanted as much as he could give.

Euphoria spread through his body like a disease, the ache of climax going on forever. Just as Raynor thought he might pass out from the pleasure that teetered on becoming pain, one last shudder from him gave her the last of his seed. He collapsed on top of her, feeling like he’d just run a marathon as he regained his breath.

Some of her sharp plates dug into his front, but he didn’t care, basking in the afterglow as he ran his hands up and down her sides. The daemoness cupped his chin, angling his face to her snout. The kiss was a little sloppy, awkward at this angle, but Raynor didn’t much care, and neither did Kinre.

With some effort, her vagina gripping him like a fist, he pulled out of her and flopped onto his side. His thighs and crotch were a wet mess, but the afterglow was all he could feel right now.

That, and the scaley arm draping over his chest, Kinre giggling when he reciprocated the gesture. That was it, then, he’d bedded a daemon. Technically he’d already done so the day before, but with her here in her true form it felt more final.

If any of the gods still held any respect for him, he doubted tonight would do him any favours. He wouldn’t care what they thought later on down the line, but right now a part of him felt like he’d done the wrong thing. First Stormfang, then this…

“Husband,” Kinre began, Raynor brushing his thoughts aside to listen. “You really are full of surprises. That was… whew.”

“I’m not your husband.”

“You better say yet, right now.” She clawed at the hair on his chest, doting over him with an affection he wouldn’t have thought a daemon could muster. “Think of all the perks. A place of your own, strong children, a never-ending honeymoon…”

“I think I still need a bit more convincing,” he teased.

“The mortal challenges the daemon? You’re pushing your luck,” she chuckled. “Stay on your back, Raynor, I’m much more persuasive when I’m on top.”

7

“And what am I going to do with all this junk?” Kinre asked.

Her father being an avid collector of human gear, there were several outfits, both decorative and not, just sitting in the estate collecting dust. Raynor had chosen a set of leather armour, its colour on the brink between brown and black. The padding on the shoulders and legs stretched over the forearms and shins, thick and protective. While not as hard as steel, he felt warm inside the insulated padding, and a lot more flexible with his movements when he practiced a few combat stances with Stormfang. It was easier to get in and out of as well – something Kinre noted with a cheeky smirk.

His gloves were fingerless, the knuckles lined with little silver spikes that would add a bit of force to his punches. His torso was a carefully branded mess of straps and bandoliers wrapping over a leather vest, his many vials jingling in the pockets when he moved. A ruff of dark cloth bunched up over his collar – a cowl currently drawn down. His shield and cloak hung over his back by a strap, Stormfang’s scabbard poking out between them.

He flexed his fingers and arms, the leather creaking audibly. He felt… lighter, in more ways than just the literal weight of his paladin armour. He looked at the discarded pile of steel for a long while, remembering how each minute scratch had been earned. His broken sword lay in a pile next to it, broken and useless. Yet a part of him was okay with that.

“Toss it into the bog for all I care,” Raynor said. “It’s worthless to me.”

“It might fetch a nice price to the right buyer,” Kinre said. She’d turned back into her lizard form after their rutting. A sudden whirlwind of smoke had encased her, Raynor having to shield his eyes from the magical gale. When the smoke had cleared she was back to normal, though normal was a poor word when it came to describing Kinre.

Her standard garb of belts and leather garments had returned with her form, barely able to hide her modesty – her midriff, belly and the underside of her breast free to the wind. Her chiselled abdominals flexed as she chuckled.

“You’ve said you’re not a paladin several times,” she began. “Now though, I think I believe you.”

“All to feed your demonic ego, I’m sure.” His grin was almost flat.

“No,” she said, her gaze certain. “I can tell it hurts you. Every time you’ve said ‘paladin’ you grit your teeth and your eyes flick over. I’m glad you’re deciding to let it go.”

“Me too,” he said. “I was still holding on to that life, and you helped me see that. Thank you.”

She smiled, the two silent for a few heartbeats before she raised a stern finger. “Speaking of lives, don’t go telling anyone a daemon’s weakness, okay? Remember, I know your name.”

“Touché, Kinre.”

She walked him to the estate’s edge, the swamps soon stretching out before them in a seascape of wet grass and pulped earth. When she offered to guide him back to town, he politely declined, saying he would be heading out a different direction.

“I… guess this is where we part,” Raynor said, and not for the first or last time would he need to say those words. Yet something felt different this time around, and not just because his companion was a daemon. She held a literal power over him with his name, but rather than use it to assert herself, she’d used it to get close to him, in a way he’d never allowed anyone else to.

His closest companion was a daemon. His mind couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or not.

“I wouldn’t think so,” Kinre disagreed, Raynor giving her a confused blink. “Stormfang’s got an aura I can sense, and our spirits have become a lot more…. intimate these past few days. As long as you’re in this realm, I’ll find you.”

“So you could… pop in, anytime?”

Her answer was a mischievous smile spreading over her chops. “I’m sure you won’t say no to a few late-night visits from time to time. I’ve got a few delicious ideas we can try out.”

Raynor swallowed, Kinre laughing as she leaned over and licked him on the cheek. When he angled his head to try and meet her kiss, her hand pushed against his chest, their faces separating. “Ah-ah, plenty of time for that later, husband.”

Trying not to get too frustrated, he backed off and, checking himself over, trudged into the swamp, Kinre waving at him when he looked back. Long goodbyes were not his style, especially when the woman he’d be leaving could turn up whenever she wished. With one last glance at the estate, he turned his back on her and made his way through the slew.

“If you see Diego tell him thanks for the opportunity!” Kinre shouted. “And don’t tell anyone how I live! It’s embarrassing!”

But Raynor was too far away to hear her. He went round the trunk of a shroom, the swamps swallowing him up in its muggy haze.

8

The former paladin glanced over his shoulder, the height of the canyon allowing him to see the protrusion of the earth that was Selora’s basin on the horizon. He spared a moment to wonder what she was up to since they’d defeated Rukalas, before glancing up at the great walls of rock to his immediate north.

Somewhere beyond the Curtain lay the end of his journey, where the wishmaker held his destiny in its hands. It was time to right old wrongs, Raynor checking his gear one last time, then leaving the Southern Realms behind forever.