Reluctantly, Skylar scooted over to the man who'd previously proclaimed himself a cultist of Gram. "Okay, weirdo, what's the plan?" he muttered.
The man turned slightly to look upon him more closely; at this close range, Skylar could make out a lot more detail than he'd been able to before. What had previously only been identifiable as a black leather garment was now more clearly distinguishable as a sort of black leather trenchcoat, with oddly whitish buckles that looked like they were made of bone. Thick, sturdy boots and gloves of leather hid the man's extremities from view, and a combination hood and mask combo similarly obscured his features. Though the illumination from the silvery lantern was bright now that it was close by (and brighter still due to being augmented by the emerging lucent moon overhead), Skylar still couldn't pick out much from underneath the hood other than a few curves of more leather and a glint of glass; definitely some kind of mask. "Am I to conclude from your question that you are looking to me for aid or advice?" the man's strange dual-toned voice responded with a definite undercurrent of amusement.
"I didn't say that," Skylar responded cautiously. "But I have no idea what's going on here, so I need to talk to somebody -- and all my attempts to make conversation with the elf girl have only gotten me grak-beatings." He jerked a thumb at the hairy figure of the other prisoner behind them, apparently dozing now that they were resting. "And I don't know what that guy's deal is."
"Interesting." The man shifted closer to Skylar, the mud of the swampy ground squelching beneath him as he moved. "But why should I reciprocate? 'What's in it for me,' in other words, as the youth say?"
Skylar shrugged. "I dunno, man. What do you want?"
The man chuckled. "A question we all struggle to answer." His odd, two-pitched voice obscured his identity completely; he could have been old or young, healthy or ill. The only thing that was certain was that it was unquestionably a male voice, but Skylar knew that even that could be deception. "At the moment, I need nothing you can give me; all that I desire shall come to me in the fullness of time."
This guy's being even more cagey than I am, Skylar groused to himself. He furrowed his brow, thinking.
That seems like it could get me into a lot of trouble, but it might work... He cleared his throat. "What about an exchange of favors? You tell them I'm not really your cult trainee, and I do a little freelancing for your group on the side after I'm free?"
"Ah, I see. In other words, you wish to pay me tomorrow for a meal today..." The man lolled slightly, appearing to think it over. "Of course, your offer presupposes that I am particularly concerned with the fate of the Cult of Gram."
Skylar blinked. "Why wouldn't you be? Aren't you, like, one of their priests or something?"
The man chuckled in a way Skylar wasn't at all sure he liked. "Do you always believe everything you hear?"
Skylar frowned in confusion, opening his mouth to protest; but a flurry of activity from above forestalled him, and he shut his mouth and scooted back away from the leather-clad man as the feathered and winged shape of the other elf returned, flapping down out of the darkness to alight on the marshy ground. Reine stepped closer to him, hand on her sword hilt. "Any luck?"
"Poor and worse," the older elf replied, shaking off a handful of feathers as he resumed bipedal form. "The path to our destination remains obscured, but our efforts have drawn unwelcome attention. A pack of Ubara approaches -- perhaps a dozen, but it could be as many as a score. They will not be dispersed easily."
Skylar saw the younger elf frown. "Likely a few too many for us to take on by ourselves." She tapped her gauntleted finger against her teeth as she contemplated this information, then cocked her head questioningly at the other elf. "I don't suppose you could lead them away?"
The older elf shook his bearded head. "Svata will grant me no further shiftings this day, and I would make a poor distraction on foot. I believe we must fight." He began to shed his cloak in preparation for battle, and Skylar found himself staring in astonishment as a bald pate and thick limbs of corded muscle emerged. "But this terrain is very poor for such a skirmish; we will be surrounded in short order."
"Will you not accept aid?" Both elves jumped in surprise, then looked back curiously at the leather-clad man. "There is strength in numbers, after all."
The older elf frowned. "Are you offering to aid us?"
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
"Not I," the masked man demurred, "but perhaps you could make use of the others, at least for now. The Night King will protect me -- I doubt the others have yet earned his consideration."
Reine pursed her lips, considering it. "I don't like it, but I guess you all aren't likely to run off now -- unless you want to get eaten by Ubara." She frowned again. "But can any of you even fight?"
There was a short pause, then the hairy man struggled to his feet. "I can swing a blade," he grunted. "I'm still pretty pissed you think I'm a cultist, but I agree with that guy." He nodded his head in the direction of the masked man. "Being innocent isn't gonna help me much if we're all Ubarak chow."
"Hmm. I only have the one sword, though." Reine drew the blade, looking back and forth between the hairy man and the other elf. "Do you think we should chance it?"
"You and I, at least, can fight without weapons," the other elf agreed. "They betray us at their own peril, at least for the moment."
Reine grunted. "All right." She stepped up to the hairy man and worried at his wrists for a moment; after a handful of seconds, the guide-rope went slack, and Skylar saw the other man's hands come free. There was a brief, tense moment of suspicion where everyone was watching for him to attack the elves, but nothing occurred; the red-eyed man simply nodded and stepped back slightly.
"Have no fear," the masked man commented into the short silence with amusement. "The Loathborn will not betray you." He sat back down in the mud, appearing for all the world as though he were about to take a nap himself. "The boy, on the other hand, may be a different matter."
Reine looked over at Skylar and snorted derisively, then turned her attention back to the red-eyed man; reluctantly, she handed over her sword hilt-first. "I'm trusting you, whatever your name is," she cautioned him sternly.
The red-eyed man nodded, taking the sword; as the light from the moon overhead continued to increase, Skylar saw that he was short and stocky, with a full head of hair and a beard of the same thick black fur-like hair that covered the backs of his hands and arms. "Levan. Levan Glim." He stepped back easily, then held the sword up to check its balance. "It's a good blade. Thanks for trusting me."
"Trust," the older elf commented as he approached, "may yet be too strong a word; but if you accompany us willingly, perhaps this journey need not be so difficult for us all." He turned an eye upon Skylar. "What of you, Zuzan? Can you fight as well?"
"My name's Skylar, not Susan," Skylar corrected him; the elf's face twisted in confusion, but the masked man only chuckled. "And no, I don't know how to fight. But I can run pretty fast" -- apparently -- "and we might be able to use that. Split these guys up, whatever they are."
The red-eyed man, whose name was apparently Levan, looked at Skylar suspiciously as he hefted the elf's sword. "You're really weird. You don't know what Ubara are, or what a Zuzan is, or even who Gram is, if we take any of your goofy fibs at face value. Exactly what's your deal, human?"
Human? Skylar blinked, taken aback; his eyes alit on each of the other members of the group, noticing what had been slightly bothering him all along. Elf. Elf. Loathborn, whatever that is. And whatever Mask Guy is. I might be the only actual human here. He shook himself, then glared up at Levan. "I told you. I'm not from around here. This is all super weird to me; I've never seen an elf before, or a 'Loathborn', or any of it."
"Questions can wait; our foes will be upon us shortly," the older elf interrupted. He reached into his left boot and produced a long knife, reaching forward to cut Skylar's bonds. "Even if you cannot fight, perhaps you can defend yourself with this." He made as if to hand the knife to Skylar, hilt-first, but held it back as Skylar reached to take it. "I warn you, do not attempt to use it against us -- I can assure you it would not suffice."
"He is right," the masked man agreed, humor still suffusing his words. "A Justiciar granted three Invocations and an Ilkon of at least the second grade might be a bit beyond your grasp."
"Uh, thanks? I guess?" Skylar ducked his head and took the knife, feeling awkward.
Abruptly, Reine appeared at his elbow, poking him painfully in the sternum. "We mean it, shorty. Don't get any ideas about running off again; if I can take you, an Ubarak isn't even going to break a sweat turning you into a little pile of skek."
"Okay, jeez, I get it," Skylar protested, rubbing his chest. Doing his best to ignore Reine, he turned his gaze back to the older elf and nodded. "Thanks, elf guy."
"I am Aymon Letho," the other elf demurred; his hand twitched, as though he had been about to offer it for a shake and thought better of it, but Skylar kept his mouth shut. "Please try to resist the urge to stab me in the back."
"You, sure," Skylar muttered.
Skylar's face twisted in disgust. Get help, pal. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Levan scowling at his own expression, clearly having misinterpted his reaction; Skek it. Stop getting me in even more trouble than I already am. Trepidatiously, he swapped the knife to a reverse grip and began to scan the darkness for sights of approach; unconsciously, he began to back towards the masked man at the center of the party, who crossed his arms and gazed about him approvingly as the other four formed a perimeter around him. Then a bloodcurdling howl emerged from the gloom around them, and Skylar Kass got his first look at an Ubarak.
It erupted from the darkness like a breaching whale; it was canine, but devoid of fur, and its obscenely naked body rippled with thick muscle like a jacked sphinx cat. Its thick, angular body shape reminded him somewhat of a tiger, and his mind reeled at the size of it, almost as large as a small horse, as it began to stalk threateningly around them. Skylar involuntarily took a step backwards and nearly tripped over the masked man. "You could help a little," he hissed, but the masked man only chuckled again.
He braced himself, but the creature did not attack; instead, it paced around the group, baring its teeth and snarling as more and more of its bretheren melted out of the darkness around them. As the tension began to mount, Skylar glanced around at the group to see if anyone else was sweating, but no one was.
Then, seemingly without a signal as the thirteeth Ubarak moved to surround the group, they charged.
Skylar nearly panicked, but managed to hold on to his wits as the great beasts thundered towards him; I have a short weapon and I don't know how to use it. I should wait as long as possible before trying to fight. He gritted his teeth and gulped as the lead beast sprang towards him, but a black blur whispered by him and blocked its path; Reine's sword swung down, and Skylar was surprised to see that Levan had taken the lead beast down in one blow.
Immediately, the other Ubara swarmed around his thick figure, but he danced backwards with surprising agility and laid about him as he went. Though his strokes were powerful, the beasts mostly took only debilitating wounds; the press of the melee was too chaotic for him to strike vital limbs or organs. "Fratz, these things are ugly," the Loathborn groaned as he fought.
Skylar risked a glimpse behind him to check on the elves; Aymon was striking heavy blows with his bare fists dropping or throwing back an Ubarak with each strike, while Reine was holding out a gauntleted hand towards her foes and chanting; just when it seemed a trio of the slavering monsters was about to overwhelm her, a bright golden flash hammered all three to the ground and left purple spots in front of Skylar's eyes. Tearing his gaze away, he redoubled his grip on the knife and thought furiously about his next move.
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