The Flesh is (Not) Weak [017-018]

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[017] [Village]

When Damon opened the door to Linda’s workshop, the woman, seated behind her workbench, shrieked, jumped, and made it half-way to the door leading further into the house before she stopped.

“DAMON!” She proclaimed, putting a hand against her chest. “You nearly made my heart explode!”

“At least you’re armed this time.” He chuckled, pointing at the forked spear that sat untouched next to the workbench.

Linda glowered for a moment, huffing loudly as she marched back to the bench, hips gaining a bit of a sway as she walked back to her seat. “In the days since you left for that cave, your friend taught us a bit how to use it.” A rueful smile followed as she reached up to tug her shirt’s collar a bit lower to reveal a hint of cleavage. “I’ll have you know, I just might use it on you.”

He licked his lips, approaching and sitting down opposite to her. “So I’m a monster now.”

“A sex monster that sneaks up on poor widows and has his wicked way with them.” She organized the tools she’d been using, quickly putting them back into the respective drawers. “So you’re back as a client, or a predator?” The tugged collar went a little lower.

Damon’s eyes lingered as he leaned forward, putting on an amused smirk. “So I’ve been hearing things.”

“Things?”

“About a certain someone.” He rapped his knuckles against the workbench. “Who couldn’t keep their hymn down.”

The light green of Linda’s skin took a much darker shade instantly. “I’ll admit I lost a bit of control, usually things only last one round…” The green on her cheeks darkened further. “Not… well…”

“I have a question on whether some of that was intentional.” He said, tapping the table twice. “To claim territory. So to speak.” He quirked a brow. “Or more like as a way to get some clout.”

Linda’s smile froze in place, her shoulders stiffened, gaze looking at his with apprehension. “Are you… angry?”

Damon sighed. “I just want to leave the things clear.” His finger tapped against the table again. “Did you use me to secure yourself a comfy spot as the head of the village?”

“I offered you my bed because I thought you’d be the wildest ride I’ll get to have.” She nodded a little matter-of-factly. “Which you were.”

“Flattery will not get you out of this one.”

Linda seemed to find something in his eyes that made her relax. Slowly, she shrugged. “I was willing to give everything I had so you wouldn’t kill the village. And you still scare me.”

“Really?”

“No one knows what you’re thinking, what you want, what you’re feeling. When you talk, we hope that you’re not lying. You’re the tallest and strongest man I have ever seen and you’re so silent it’s unnerving.” She listed off, counting with her fingers. “You can carry tree trunks down the hill when it would take three sasins. And your endurance is…” She blushed again, licking her lips slowly. “… frightening.”

“You’re trying to seduce me again.”

“Could you blame me?” She laughed. “I know what I want.”

“I just want to be clear on the politics, Linda.” He stated, a single brow raised.

A sigh and a nod, she reached out to grab his hand, her calloused fingers warm. “Had I been quiet, the village might have thought you took me by force and that I was trying to hide in shame. And…”

“And…?”

“And… the village needs someone to rally around. You users come and go like the seasons, but we live here. A knight is that focal point… normally.” Her gaze darkened, lips curling into a scowl. “We won’t sit and idly hope the next one is one without rot in their soul.”

He nodded. “Good.”

Linda startled, straightening up and blinking at him in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Damon nodded. “I mean, I don’t like that you didn’t give me a heads up. But I agree that you shouldn’t just hope things get better.”

Linda squeezed his hand, smiling brightly. “I appreciate that.”

“Also things might get a bit hectic, so better get prepared for that.” He continued. “Sybil confirmed there’s a Janus thing in the cave. She mentioned this place will become livelier.”

She sat up straight in the chair, blinking rapidly before her smile turned sly. “Damon?”

“Yeah?”

“Lock the door.”

“Yes ma’am!”

***

Damon walked into the room where the knight was held prisoner. The man sat on the bed, looking out the window with a distant, unfocused gaze. The plate with food was put down. “Meal is ready.”

“Thank you.”

The broad-jawed man spoke with only the barest nod, not really turning towards the plate or Damon and just keeping his eyes out through the window.

“The… replacement knight should be showing up in forty days or so.” Damon commented. “But some users will be coming with a caravan any day now, they’ll take over keeping watch on you.”

“I see.”

The silence stretched out, neither moving an inch. The knight sat firm, still, almost as if a living statue.

“Was it worth it?”

For a moment it felt as if the knight wouldn’t answer.

“The first time, it had been a user that had tried to have his way with Idina.” His voice was like gravel, square jaw settling in. “He’d requested her to guide him to the good hunting spots. I felt something was off. He probably thought he was safe because, as a knight, I can’t leave the village. I sent my familiar to keep her safe.” A long pause. “When my daughter came back, terrified, I knew I’d made the right choice. I’d wanted to throw the axon away, but I hesitated, an axon is worth a lot, it could secure our future.”

He did not move, nor did he turn to face Damon as he spoke.

“After that, I started sending my familiar to follow users. If any didn’t survive, it would just… salvage the axons. Those I could sell legally, but the first user’s axon remained untouched.”

“Why?”

“Axons record the user’s last moments. The kingdom always checks, they would’ve known.”

“It would’ve been in defense of your daughter.”

The man turned to look at the floor, hands clenched into fists. “No, it would’ve been dereliction of duty. Even the most lenient punishment would have had me stripped of role and rank.” His eyes closed. “I kept the axon, and told myself it was just in case. Then… he showed up, the hagsier merchant with the clipped ear.'' He let out a slow hiss of disgust. “I don’t know how he knew, but he knew I had it. He offered a lot of gold for it, no one would check, no one would know, not this far out.”

Damon had been listening, and with every word he felt his lips thin and his brows lower. “And that’s when the murders started.”

“It was part of the deal, I… would scrape the bad users, the others that could harm Idina, and get paid for it.”

“And then you killed the owners of this house.” His tone came as a growl.

“They would have ended everything, Idina would have-.”

Damon stepped into the room, reaching out to grasp the man by the neck of the shirt. In one swing, he slammed him against the wall, both of the knight’s feet dangling from the air as their gazes met.

“Finish the sentence. I dare you.”

What anger had begun to form on the knight’s expression vanished, eyes going wide, face paling. He tried to reach up to grasp Damon's wrists, but hesitated, slowly lowering his hands instead. “Kill me.”

With a growl, he let go. “Fuck you, I’m not an executioner.”

Damon marched out of the room, slamming the door behind him. His steps continued as he reached all the way to the common-room area. Han and Sybil were seated there, glancing his way.

“What?” He asked defensively. “I didn’t kill him or anything.”

“We know that.” Han tapped his ear, hymn, right. “How are you holding up?”

“Can’t wait to hit the road, if I’m honest.” Damon proclaimed. “The sooner I’m away from that fuckface, the better.”

“I have good news, then.” Han tapped the pieces of paper that lay on the table. “We are hashing out the finer details of the trip.” Han muttered. “Checking numbers, how much food we’ll need, how much of our water will be from the wither seeds, where we’ll have to make stops…”

“Does it all fit in a cart or should I offer to lug around the gear?”

Sybil grumbled, leaned forward and pulled her hood off, furry red fox-ears stood up as she reached for her head and massaged at their base.

“What’s up with her?”

“She’s holding back from shouting at you for offering to be a beast of burden. Since that’s clearly beneath a chosen of Janus.” Han stated amusedly.

“NO!” Sybil snapped back up, glaring daggers at Han. “You know exactly why.” She turned to Damon, and hesitated. A grimace followed as she pulled her hood back, red foxen ears pressing flat against her head. “You need experience fighting monsters, and we can’t have you intentionally tiring yourself out on the road.”

Her words came out almost in a grumble, the fire instantly gone from her voice.

“Uh… I guess I can see the logic in that.” Damon hesitated, looking at the much more amused Han. “What’s the plan?”

“A merchant caravan should be showing up soon. They’ll have some extra cloppers and carts to sell to us since I put up the request.” He answered. “There’s also going to be a messenger doubling as a representative of the knight’s order. He’ll pay you a fair amount for your portion out of the knight’s belongings you want to sell to the new knight for when they show up to take the spot.”

Damon nodded, keeping his grimace to a minimum. “What’s up with that anyway? The cloppers.”

“What about them?”

“Cloppers, teethers, gappers, withers… it just feels like weird naming conventions.” Damon pointed out. “It sort of felt… odd.”

“Huh?” Han frowned. “They’re just names, like anything else. Handrondi and Sybil don’t mean anything in particular either.”

“But the names you used for the monsters do have meaning.”

“What? No.”

“Oh.” He sat down. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Sybil’s ears twitched, her brown eyes looking at him intently.

“Gaper has a meaning. ‘To gape’.”

“Gape? First time I’ve heard that word.” Han tilted his head a little. “What does it mean?”

“When you have your mouth open?”

“Oh, gape. But why use gape?”

“I know you just said two different words, but my head’s interpreting it as the same one.” Damon muttered, rubbing at his temples. “This is my translator messing with me again. I think I’m getting a headache.”

“Your historian friend would likely be helpful about this kind of thing.” Sybil declared very quickly, nervously turning to Han. “The translation function from his axon has some hidden knowledge from the ancient times, since…”

Han leaned back, crossing his arms. “We both know what you’re trying to get at.”

Damon glanced between the two. “What am I missing here?”

“It’s about the… thing in the cave.” Han said, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “I wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t shared the recording.”

“Why would you record that!?”

“We are users, everything we do is recorded by our axon. We can delete it though, so I think your question would be why hadn’t she deleted it.” Han leveled a look at Sybil. “Which is what I’ve already asked her several times.”

She fidgeted on her seat, lowering her head. “No place of power of Janus has ever reacted. To anything or anyone. Ever.” Her voice shrunk a little. “If my clan knew of this, then…”

“Your clan?” Damon hesitated. “First I’ve heard of this.”

“The vulpes clans mostly follow Tora, god of death and rebirth.” She muttered, looking away, her hand touching on the black scar on her nose. “They believe Janus has turned his back on us, leaving the world without a champion for over a hundred years.”

“It’s a touchy situation.” Han said. “The eastern clans remain independent of the kingdom much to the chagrin of some.”

“The last champion had been Vulpes. He had tried to unite the kingdom and the clans, but ultimately failed. Some claim his death came at the hands of the followers of Janus.”

“I get that the history lesson is important, but I’m not getting what that has to do with me.” Damon stated, frowning. “I asked you not to share this with anyone. I can forgive Han, he’s a cool dude…”

“Thanks?”

“-but you yourself pointed out it could be trouble if you tossed this around. Trouble I don’t want. When were you going to tell me you intended to show it to your extended family?”

“I… won’t show them, at least not until we learn more about what… an ‘administrator’ is meant to do.”

“We?”

Sybil nodded. “This pertains to Janus, and as a believer, I can’t just sit back and do nothing. You are going to need help, and I will give it.”

Damon blinked twice, glancing at Han. The bearded man just shrugged. “My destination is in Sky Bridge, and I have some friends I can put you in contact with. Anything after that would have to depend on whether things align or not.”

“I thought you two were a party.”

“From time to time.”

“Damon, please don’t ignore me.” Sybil rapped her knuckles against the table once.

“I mean, what do you expect from me?” He hesitated, scratching the back of his head nervously. “My goal is to look for a way to get home.”

“And it is tied to Janus.”

The words carried a finality to them, Damon felt like she’d chase after him even if he didn’t agree to anything. Which, as far as his goal was concerned, was a good thing. Maybe.

“Fine.”

[018] [Trade]

Damon looked at the cloppers, and he saw that they were terrifying.

Their base shape was that of a horse, but everything was wrong about them. They were creatures without fur, a smooth dark gray skin like a sphinx cat, taut over its body in a way that revealed the layers of muscle underneath. The tail was snake-like, about a meter long. The vertebrae were punctuated with foot-long spines pointing upwards all the way to the head. Its head was longer, more sharp and angular to that of a horse, more reminiscent of a crocodile, especially in how it had fangs lined the outside of its mouth rather than contained behind lips. The creature’s eyes, azure blue with rectangular irises, were angled in a slanted way, but facing forward far more strongly than a horse’s. Two sharp horns pointing forward adorned its head. The last difference was its legs. Unlike a horse’s that were ended in hooves, this creature had cones that reached all the way up to its knees, the leathery gray skin turning into hard and metallic.

Getting trampled by this monster would turn the victim into Swiss cheese.

Damon swallowed as he kept himself well outside biting, kicking, and general range of the creatures, thinking of the wooden club that hung from his hip and trying to consider how likely it might be to find escape if things got messy. Which meant that, unlike the rest of the village, he was not approaching the caravan of merchants that had come rolling in and parked at the center of the village. The merchants that came with a dozen or so users, all of them looking haggard, worn, and clearly in severe need of some rest.

They were mostly sasins, recognizable by pale green skin and silver ears. But there were others he hadn’t seen before. One of the merchants had bunny ears standing atop his head, tall, fluffy, and white. The man’s nose was flat and broad, covered in a criss-crossing of metallic veins that betrayed the existence of a graft. Another was a man wearing a large hood and cape that kept most of his features hidden, but Damon spotted his hands were a deep blue, with sharp black nails.

The whole thing was a hub-bub of activity. The users kept the villagers from overwhelming the merchants, while the merchants bartered away just about everything in their caravan. This was, after all, the end of the line. Even Sybil and Han were an active part of the whole thing.

And from time to time, some member of the caravan would look his way, eyes widening ever so slightly before focusing. And then shooting wide open far faster. The number of fingers pointing his way as he just stood there, arms crossed and watching, grew by the minute. But the villagers would quickly speak in hushed voices, and the gestures would become far more discreet.

He ignored it, mostly curious about what the village traded with. Apparently, most of it came from either the blue wood, or things made out of the blue wood. Damon figured the fact that it glowed in the dark was something that made for quite the sales’ pitch.

“The soil here is bad for crops, but I have a small garden for personal use.” Linda stood next to him, giving a friendly wave. “That said, most of the food we get is by trade, most of it from the logging and users. Lot less users these past few years.” Linda shook her head a little.

“Users came here often?”

“This village is the northernmost point in the kingdom, the last point before just wilderness and mountains. The traffic came from a ruin-hunt-rush before my time. But the ruins were picked clean years ago, so things have been dying out ever since.” A yawn was followed by a warm smile. “With a point of power being discovered, things will grow again.”

“There are ruins?”

“From the age of ruin. If I remember correctly, that was… seven hundred years ago? Most of the best preserved ruins are from that age, probably why it’s called that.” She shrugged. “It’s a small city of sorts, a trip further north, about thirty days away. The kingdom sent orders to pick it clean, looking for anything they could get their hands on to help repair the thalaring temple in Sky Bridge.”

Damon nodded absently. “Have you ever thought of becoming a user?”

“Not really.” She shook her head. “My father was a cobbler, and he taught me what I know. I like what I do. It’s the role I grew up with. I’m proud of my work.” She pointed at his boots, smirking. “And by the looks of it, so are you.”

“Oh, definitely. Best damn boots I’ve ever had.” He proclaimed. “I’ll make sure to wear them out and come back before I wear out the second pair.”

“Careful with promises like that.” She poked his shoulder. “I might get mad if you show up with someone else’s boots.” With a slight bump of her hip, she stepped forward. “Don’t let me hold you back on getting better gear as soon as you get the chance. Good gear can mean the difference between living or dying out there.”

“These are some good boots.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I am going to show who’s in charge.”

She reached up to pull him into a kiss, one that lingered for longer than strictly necessary, and was followed by her turning to head towards the caravan. Damon’s eyes lingered on her ass as she clearly kept the sway on purpose. There was some interaction as the users and merchants were hurriedly looking between her and Damon, and he could only chuckle. More so when the villagers parted to let her through like she owned the place.

Two merchants zeroed in on her as she began to talk shop. Damon just tuned it out until he noticed someone from the caravan approaching him. A man with long light hazel hair tied into a ponytail and dark skin, he wore a white tunic with golden embroidery. And a small pointy hat. For a moment Damon thought he was human, if perhaps shorter, until he noticed the man’s eyes were glowing a dim blue, as were his arms from under his robes.

“Are you the user Damon?”

“I am.”

“I had been told you have a condition where you cannot hear hymns nor do you have one of your own. You must excuse me, as I delayed my introduction while attempting to confirm this. I am a Messenger.”

“Is it like knights where you sort of have to give up your name?”

“For Messengers, it is a custom, rather than an edict.” He answered. “My task is to assess the goods you received, and to deliver the amount of gold equivalent to however much you would trade with the order of knights.”

Damon thought of this for a moment, rubbing his chin. “Is the knight’s house part of the order’s property?”

“It is. But everything within is not.”

“Idina’s in the house right now, she said everything’s ready to be cataloged.”

“I see.” A light bow of the head. “And is there anything you would dispute from her? Or are you both in agreement of what each of you keep?”

“Not really going to argue over anything. The only things I’m not going to sell are some parts of the armor that were adjusted to fit me. Idina has the details.”

The man appeared to hesitate as he glanced in the direction of the knight’s house, and then at Damon. “And you… won’t oversee this negotiation?”

“I trust things will be fair.”

Not like he’d be able to know whether he was getting swindled or not without at least three more pairs of eyes present. But Sybil and Han had vouched for the Messengers, so he was willing to keep his hands clean of the mess. And it wasn’t like Idina looked like a slouch, though Damon did wonder whether she’d opt to sell the merchant’s backpack or keep it.

Now to wait until Sybil and Han were done with their purchases and get some sparring done to burn some energy.

***

“I don’t think this will ever stop being amusing.” Sybil proclaimed.

She sat as she watched Han and Damon circling one another. They’d picked a spot away from the village and from prying eyes, the privacy was welcome with how many people kept staring at Damon every other minute. Or how often they’d be startled to discover he was there at all. The amusement of having people jump and whirl around when hearing him approach had worn out rather quickly.

Damon and Han were both wielding sticks as improvised swords. The sticks were not meant to be broken, but there was a pile of broken sticks already. Both of them had a series of red welts throughout their bodies. But in count alone, Damon had at least thrice that of Han.

“This is a really weird way to spar.” Damon grumbled, rubbing the newest welt on his wrist.

“You said so yourself, you don’t want to get hit. This would be the best way to train that.” Han replied with a smirk. “Later we can do the wrestling things again.”

“I prefer the wrestling things.”

“You like winning.”

“You don’t?” He dashed forward, swinging.

To Han, it was a simple matter to parry and retaliate with a snap to Damon’s knee. It was as if he’d danced around him, the sasin able to avoid his attacks while making it look like he wasn’t even trying.

“How can you be better at dodging than Sybil? She’s like a flea bouncing all over the place.”

“Her style is horrible for fighting users, but useful against monsters. I’ve had to handle users more often.”

“More murderers?”

“No, bandits.”

Damon frowned, rubbing his wrist. “And… bandits don’t murder?”

“Not usually. Most all of them focus on stealing. Despite appearances, most bandits are non-users. So handling them involves more outwitting them than combat.”

Han skipped to the side as Damon attacked again. Though he punished the attack, Damon landed a smack against his thigh. The branch broke, and Damon growled, throwing the bit left in his hand away.

“I hit you first, you know?” Han grimaced, rubbing the welt. “Also, you broke it, so…”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Damon dropped to the ground, doing push-ups.

“You’d think your arms would have fallen off by now.” Sybil commented.

“After almost a month digging holes and chopping wood? I still have a bit of steam to give.”

Though he was trying to push the bravado, Sybil wasn’t wrong about assuming he was pushing himself near to the limit.

“Having watched you swing sticks all morning, it’s a safe bet you will not be very good against other users.” Han sighed heavily, moving to sit where Sybil was resting. “You’re definitely better suited for fighting monsters.”

“Which I’d rather not do.”

“But you will have to, anyway.” Sybil proclaimed, with an edge of pride to her words.

Damon’s shoulders slumped as he shot her a half-hearted glare. “What’s the verdict?”

“If you plan to fight users, you’re better off using spears and something with longer range. You’re a bit of an oaf. Giving you some good armor would also be crucial.” Stroking his blond beard, he glanced at his companion. “Your stupid strength makes for a polar opposite of Sybil. She works by making minor cuts that wear down her opponent. You’d be aiming to bring the fight to an end with very few blows. Wouldn’t matter how fast they are, if they can’t bring you down and become tired, you win.”

He didn’t like it, but he had to begrudgingly nod at that. “And monsters?”

“That depends a lot more on what grafts you get.”

Damon’s shoulders stiffened at that, his lips narrowed at the thought of getting grafts, of replacing his flesh and limbs with… he shook his head, trying to ignore the itch at the back of his head. “And in the meantime?”

“Considering how you’ve done so far, it feels that the club is a good match for you. Definitely something to upgrade when you get the chance.” Han nodded. “You’re very weak when it comes to agility, your technique is bad, but you seem to grasp your location and surroundings well enough. Still, you just swing the thing and let its weight drag you around.”

“And that’s… bad.”

“If you find a monster that can dodge, it would be deadly.” Sybil replied. “Experienced teethers would be exactly that. The fresh ones just attack, but they become smarter as they grow older. Many overconfident users have died to an experienced teether leading a pack of younger ones.”

“The rat things? Beady eyes? Are you sure we’re imagining the same thing?”

“Yes.”

“The longer the monster lives, the more dangerous. Always.” Han nodded. “Monster lords in particular.”

Damon’s brow creased a little. “How long can monsters live?”

“No one has seen any that have gone weak from age.” Sybil’s tone felt… almost delighted? She was certainly grinning, not wearing her hood now that they were away from everyone else. “So as far as anyone’s confirmed, they just don’t die unless killed.”

“That sucks.” Dropping to the ground, Damon crossed his legs and let out a very heavy sigh, rubbing at his temples. “I’m gonna go lay down or something.”

“The inexhaustible human finally feeling tired?”

“You’ve been beating me with sticks for an hour.” He grumbled. “I need a break. Besides, we leave tomorrow, right?”

“So?”

“Gonna go plunder Linda’s cave.”

Sybil’s hackles rose, throwing a glare while Han broke into laughter, both watching him march all the way back to the village.

As soon as he was out of sight, they both groaned loudly, sprawling on the ground.

“This is worse than fighting the wither swarm.” The blond grumbled, splashing some water on his head. “I don’t think we’ll be able to keep this up while traveling.”

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