Chapter 18 - The Game

“Astara guide us”, Loran could barely begin to comprehend his uncle’s tale, yet believed him with absolute certainty. Most of it made sense, whatever that meant, as his entire perception of the mundane had been shaken to the core. Trolls? Believable. Goblins? He’d encountered several. Sentient cave mold that twisted people and turned them into sexual deviants? Maker’s breath. Uncle Ro’s disappearance was strange, and he had opened himself to all manner of theories and conjecture, but this was madness. It both confirmed his wildest suspicions and realized his worst fears; a fate worse than death had they truly not departed the mortal coil already. 

 
“Good luck with that”, Roland chimed in morosely, “I don’t think she can hear us in this place. It’s a black ocean, devoid of light or feeling. Of soul.”
 
“So, we’re dead?” They sat across from each other as they spoke, as if huddled around some non-existent fire; there was no warmth or cold here, it was a realm devoid of duality. His uncle seemed so, touched, by this lightless realm that he had become a fragmented version of his former self; at least of the one he knew, all those years ago. Roland’s face was stiff and stoic yet lacked any of the fire that made a man a man. 
 
“Not quite.” Ro stood from the ‘floor’ and turned his back to his nephew, staring into the endless void. “Although it’s muffled I can still sense something, no, many things. The lifeforce that permeates beyond this place sometimes echoes a faint whisper of the world beyond. We’re separated from the world we know; stuck in purgatory.” Roland felt a deep sense of yearning yet lacked the ability to rouse such a faint spark. He felt unconsciously in tune with the sludge’s thoughts but was deaf to his own soul. His time in the ‘black ocean’ had changed him. 
 
“Then what do we do?” 
 
“Muster your flame, only for it to burn out.” Cynicism was his only retort.  
 
“Goblin-shit”, Loran spoke defiantly. For a moment this surprised even his elder, who had long lost his own courage. “If we truly aren’t dead that means that some part of us is still fighting, even if we aren’t in control. If my body refuses to fail, then why should my mind or my spirit?” The young man had not given up, not on himself or his uncle. To Loran there must have been a way to reach the world beyond. 
 
Roland was unironically touched by these words. What they lacked in depth or complexity they made up for it in passion and courage; to a man who had long been deprived of resolve they were tinder to a dying flame. His nephew reminded him of a younger self. 
 
“I see.” His expression was less tense as he spoke, “First, how long has it been since I left? I fear that in the commotion of your arrival I’ve forgotten to ask.”
 
Loran was less tense himself, relaxing as he answered his uncle, “It’s been 16, almost 17 years since you left.”
 
“Hmm”, had it only been that long? Time had seemed to elude him here, what could have been days seemed like hundreds of years, and vice versa. It was a miracle that he was still sane. “That makes, sense, seeing that you’re still so young. What of your father?”
 
“Dead.” The answer was blunt, Loran had forgotten that there was anyone else who remembered the Ostigar line; he didn’t answer many questions about them with sentimentality. “Mother followed him shortly after, her heart was too fragile for such things; she knew I’d be ok so she let go easily.”
 
“How did he die?” Roland also showed little emotion, but there was a part of him that did feel ‘something’; he just didn’t know what it was. 
 
“Gutted by a band of brigands, but he fought well. He was a warrior to the bitter end.”
 
“A rightful death.” They unintentionally spoke in unison. It was a remnant of Ostigar tradition, to honor the worthy dead. Both gave a slight smile. “Even when renounced the stubborn legacy of our clan lives on”, The elder knight faced his nephew. “We will not share the same deathless tomb. As one of the first to be ‘infected’ by the depraved creature I am in tune with some of its thoughts, even in this limbo, and know that at least you will have a chance of escaping this place. We are both indeed alive, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to join you . You, on the other hand, are an unforeseen variable. You’re simply another potential convert, but one with shared history, and that could mean several things. For the most part this is a gift on your end, but also a curse. While you may have the chance to escape I fear it has focused the intentions of its coven on you.” For a moment he paused; the thought of his old comrades’ current state was not a pleasant one. “They will do their best to break you, nephew. Honor and dignity do not exist within Colifal; you must steel yourself and find a way out. Tell the world of this place and burn it to the ground.”
 
Loran listened intently, making sure that his uncle’s words were embedded into his mind. 
 
“Also, if you see any rats, kill them.”
 
“Why”, Loran was puzzled by the last part. 
 
“No reason in particular.”
 
~
 
Light. At first it meagerly shimmered through his eyelids, a gentle white haze filling his vision. Loran’s eyes slowly opened; his body still felt stiff. He was alive, or so it seemed, and resting peacefully in a cozy yet unfamiliar bedroom. It was a modest space and beside his bed stood a quaint nightstand topped with small idols and a glass of water. Some he recognized as symbols of the old gods, others he was entirely unfamiliar with. How did he get here? Where was he? What day was it?
 
Loran had little memory of what occurred after his time at the tavern. 
 
Something must have happened to him at the bar; how many days had it been? His chainmail sat neatly folded at the foot of his bed, next to it his boots and sword. He stretched while  sitting upright, eagerly taking in his surroundings. On the other side of his bed an open window allowed the breeze to gently roll in. More importantly it offered the perfect view of the idyllic scenery. The townsfolk of Colifal contently toiled as the sun shone above them, each with a smile on their face or caught up in the rhythm of labor. Every person had a purpose, and the unfinished cobblestone roads were clean and without vagrants. He noticed that some townspeople were still removing decorations from the previous night’s festival, patiently unhanging lanterns and banners; what a shame. He must have missed the celebration seeing as he couldn’t remember almost anything from that night. What had happened? The young knight’s head began to painfully throb as he struggled to recollect his most recent of memories. 
 
The door facing his bed opened slowly, “May I come in?” A familiar voice? “Please do”, he responded in a cordial manner. It was Grace, the young half-elven lass from before, dressed modestly while carrying a small kettle of tea and other utensils on a round platter. She was gorgeous, and her sharp elven features complimented her softer human traits quite well. Loran was still a man, despite his oath of chivalry, and could tell that she was filling out nicely as a budding young woman; he quickly pushed such thoughts aside. “I’m sorry to have burdened you, especially during a festival fair maiden.”
 
Grace blushed, slightly brushing a loose strand of light green hair past her right ear, “It was no trouble at all, truly.” She made her way to his bedside and leaned slightly inward, studying his face. Loran was a bit confused by her forwardness, but before he could ask any questions was deeply troubled by another headache. “Are you alright?” The young half-elf carefully planted herself on the bed, setting the platter on the nightstand and placing a hand on Loran’s forehead; her hand covered his own. 
 
He felt bad for occupying her time, especially over a meager headache. “I’ll be fine”, he reassured her, “I just can’t remember what happened. It’s really all a blur after arriving at the tavern. To be honest I can’t even recall why I went in the first place.”
 
His stand-in nurse’s expression was filled with concern. “The tea should help with the headaches”, she began to pour the warm liquid in a small cup, “the doctor insisted it must’ve been something you drank at Astrid’s.” 
That seemed unlikely, but there was little reason to suspect Grace of any wrong-doing; he accepted the small cup of tea and quickly consumed it. “Are you any closer to completing your quest?” Loran had not forgotten of his mission, and while his incapacitation had hindered his progress he still believed he was getting closer. Colifal was still a place of interest and its denizens surely knew more than he did, perhaps he could ascertain some answers from Grace. “Where is Siena?”
 
~
 
“The boy isn’t ready?” Astrid probed inquisitively. 
 
“No, I do not believe he is”, Sarah spoke between the lighting of braziers, “strong wills seem to run in the family.” They spoke casually while trapesing through the town’s subterranean passageways; thick purple sludge dripped sparsely between the stonework. The two of them had a long history with the cave systems below, for obvious reasons. 
 
“Brings back old memories, doesn’t it?” The witch was one for nostalgia and viewed the dungeon-like tunnels as their former home. She, Sarah, and Isolde had spent roughly a year beneath the surface, sustained almost entirely by the restorative slime; in that time the three of them had grown closer in many senses. Plus, it was within the deepest bowels of the underground network that Sarah discovered the ritual. It was a simple process really, any woman who carried a considerable volume of the master’s essence within her womb could ‘birth’ more of it. It was a mutually beneficial symbiosis. The women were given nourishment and cosmetic beauty while their loving lord could expand further, deeper, and ultimately into the very soil that nourished the earth and crops. Men, women, and children ate well and never knew of want or famine, in addition, the women of the town remained youthful; to the benefit of their male cohorts. All that was asked, from all parties, was ingestion of the sentient fungi; to join the flock. Sure, they traded free will and agency as Aishura did well to snuff out any dissent. Those who showed any inclination of doubt regarding the ritual’s moral ambiguity were quickly ‘reeducated’ in the ways of obedience, and much of it wasn’t even invasive! Half of the town’s population had unwittingly consumed the master’s essence when being fed by their spouses, sisters, and mothers. Thoughts of worry, grievance, or disgust were washed away before they could even manifest. 
 
“Plenty”, Sarah also viewed these tunnels with nostalgia but for other more sinister reasons than her sister. As head priestess of their newfound religion it was her duty to convert especially stubborn townsfolk, especially early on. It took planning and dedication to orchestrate the systematic takeover of Colifal, but it was not as difficult as one might assume. Traveling men and some women were quickly seduced by sparse rumors of a nymph elven mistress that danced nakedly through the woods, and it took little convincing upon contact to lure them into her ‘forbidden den’. She took great pleasure in watching as the horror spread across their faces, soon replaced by bliss and understanding; an epiphany. Once the psychopath had amassed a small band of devotees entering the town under the guise of aid was an easy task. This settlement was once a poor town, barely scraping by on a miserable harvest season after season. First was the tavern keeper, who was the gate keeper of secrets and rumors, and allowed for his bar to be the first hidden in-town ’transition’ site. Within a month half of the town had been willingly or unwillingly infected. Shortly after, following the strategic conversion of the physically fittest, the first mass conversion took place. Sarah, having a soft spot for children, had already converted them through the most subversive of means: charitable donations of food, drinks, and sweets. The rest who had not been turned faced a much more ‘violent’ transition. Led to the undercroft of the church they one by one faced the horror of the pulsing gelatinous mass, writhing tendrils flicking forward voraciously. There were screams, lamentations, begging; none of it mattered in the end. Literal monstrous rapes transformed into passionate lovemaking before her very eyes. Sentimental tears formed in her eyes, those good times. “I believe he’s too much like his kin, unfortunate, seeing that the girls are seeking a prospective partner.” It was her matronly instincts to think of her daughters’ interest, but it was the deviant within that ignored any sense of morally sound judgement.
 
“Aren’t they the boy’s cousins?” It was a good question, seeing that Sarah had used poor Roland as a donor of sorts nearly two decades ago. 
 
“Regrettably they seem to have taken a liking to him”, she smiled coyly back to Astrid, “too much like their aunty, chasing Ostigars. Plus, I don’t see them as his children; we are all children of our lord.”
 
“We all loved Ro, very dearly”, the lustful witch did not like addressing these matters with Sarah, “but some of us respected him enough to not deprive our friend of-- choice.” Astrid was still a compassionate person, and for the most part still felt guilt concerning the role she played all those years ago. That said, she understood her sister’s methods. What bothered her was the usage of his body to bear her children. Why? 
 
“I was the first to be deprived of choice”, she reminisced whimsically running her hand along the bumpy stone wall, scraping off a smudge of purple jelly. “It was a blessing.”
 
~
 
“Long time no see friend”.
 
Roland could hear his voice but doubted that it was real, a figment of his under-stimulated imagination in the black ocean. He sat tiredly on the ‘ground’ while peering aimlessly into-
 
“No, I’m here, just wanted to see how you were holding up.” The disembodied voice chimed again, “I know we aren’t really on… speaking terms exactly. 
 
It was real. “Speaking terms? Speaking terms!?” Roland shouted as he stood upright; his anger was palpable. “You- you unholy, twisted, depraved—.”
 
“Alright, I guess we’ll skip the small talk then”, Aishura spoke from the all-encompassing darkness; enveloping the knight just as he did in reality. “Just so we’re clear I didn’t mean to shove you into this spooky-scary hole, not willingly really. I’ve just been pretty busy with things up top and haven’t had much time to, you know, fabricate some mushy make-believe reality for you. It takes a lot of effort trying to conjure up and play Roland’s forever-fantasy adventure.”
 
“You’ve left me here, in this-- tormented place, because you were too busy?” 
 
“That’s the gist of it.” He spoke very matter-of-factly; there was little shame in his voice.  
 
Roland clasped his head in his hands, dumbfounded by the ineptitude and ambivalence of his captor. “Why didn’t you just kill me?” It was an honest question.
 
“Wasn’t my call really and believe me I’ve really contemplated what to do with you, but I’m too synced up with the ladies to just act willy-nilly. That sympathy or pity that they feel for you has really bled into my own decision making. Also, don’t take the whole killing you thing too personal, there is just a lot of bad blood you know?”
 
“Them.” The once proud fighter refused to refer to them by name, it was a wound that hadn’t healed with time. 
 
“Uh huh. Being a telepathic, mind-controlling, morally ambiguous and sentient rape gelatin I’ve done a lot of growing in these 16 to 17 years. Literally and metaphorically. You all have been here for the ride, willingly or not, and have become entwined in this—mental network of mine, or ours. You four, and my dearest friend, are fundamental parts of ‘this’ thing we have going. We’re connected like it or not and when one of us just falls off the map from time to time I get a little worried.”
 
“Worried?” 
 
“Yes, especially when a certain someone has some ‘special’ company stopping by. I know I didn’t send him to you; must’ve been some subconscious power-play for you to snatch him away like that.”
 
Roland hadn’t thought of that. How did his nephew get to him? It definitely wasn’t the slime’s desire. He would need to explore these questions later. “Why did you let him go?”
 
“Wasn’t entirely my call, but you know me, always a fan of games.” He truly hadn’t changed, a being of potentially incomparable intelligence limited by his own proclivity for sexual assault and childish Machiavellian schemes. “Roland, my dear pal, once you three fell into my lap I haven’t had to do much work. Sarah didn’t have much of a choice, at first, but you did. To save your friend from death. To make that decision and allow me to into her. It was a hard decision, but a pretty obvious one for one as righteous as yourself. You see, I don’t make people into these sex-deprived fiends. I stop them from dying, somehow, and that release from fear or magic or something allows them to push past their inhibitions. I don’t do anything. Its who they really are. I’m just sitting back and taking it all in. Your poor decision making skills as lesser humanoids have led us to this point.”
 
“…” 
 
“Nothing? Wow, understandable, especially after that word salad of—word salad. Would you like to play a word game? Like…hmm… I don’t know any word games, but this silence is really killing the revelatory  nature of what I just said.”
 
“…”
 
“Ok, well now let’s really get down to brass tacks and hard facts”, his tone grew much more foreboding. “You know I like games, a lot, and I think you do too. Secretly, that is. Chess was my favorite game as a mortal man, and I don’t know about yours but I think you’re a chess-man too. Right now there are a lot of pieces on the board, and only one of them is really yours.” Roland was beginning to understand the manipulative sludge’s doublespeak. “Now that isn’t to say there aren’t some pieces of my that may be ‘compromised’, but I’m sure that I’ll do just fine in the end.” Roland smirked as he finished. 
 
“Compromised”, for some reason was comical to the captive; perhaps his tormentor had less control than he thought, what other ‘compromises’ existed? He had much to think about. “That’s an interesting way of saying that you can’t predict what they’ll do, so it doesn’t seem like you’re as omniscient as I thought.”
 
“Who said I was? Well, I thought I was. I just read thoughts, hell maybe I am good at manipulating certain peoples’ emotions and memories, but you four are an interesting loophole. Don’t get me wrong we are indeed bound together, but there are certain things I simply can’t do to you; shame really.” It seemed there was a special bond between the four, as much as Roland was disgusted by the thought, and that Aishura really had only so much power. “It makes the game interesting to say the least, but the odds are indeed against you. The board is stacked and at best you have a inexperienced knight and a shaky rook that doesn’t even know whose side she’s on. I have some confidence in my queen and the hundreds of other pieces on my end.”
 
He wasn’t wrong. Roland didn’t know the state of his nephew or—her. Astrid. Perhaps there was hope for her; even after her betrayal. “I’m assuming you didn’t just throw my nephew back into the belly of the beast. Even though I wouldn’t put it past you.”
 
“Where would the fun be in that? One of my pieces jumped the gun; take the ‘reset’ as a gesture of my friendship.”
 
“We aren’t friends.”
 
“Well then from one player to another, he’s been placed back into the game with only relative interference. Unfortunately for you my pieces have been well at work, ensuring he doesn’t remember whatever you may have told him.”
 
“Shit.”
 
“Shit indeed. I’m only being fair sir knight. Sadly I don’t get the fuss, he’s not really an interesting lad. Been there dealt with that, no offense. Well some. You were going to kill me, remember?”
 
“You aren’t wrong.”
 
“See! Self-preservation.”
 
The game had begun. It was an old rivalry that would be settled by a new generation. A generation that stemmed directly from their own sins. 
 
This was an  extremely fun chapter to write, and while it lacked the sexy bits I really wanted to improve upon my writing and expand upon some ideas. Next chapter will have plenty of what you come here for, hopefully that’ll have improved too! 
 
-Vamp 