Tearlach (Chapter 17)

Template:Tearlach nav What was an eyeball doing in a strongbox in the middle of a spider pit? For once, Tearlach was curious to find out, even if that meant asking someone. The box was covered in webs and filth, and obviously had been there for a long time -- but the eye looked so fresh-cut he was surprised it wasn't still bloody. There was obviously magic at work; he was tempted to throw the thing away as cursed. But magic can be useful sometimes, and this magic wasn't like the magic making the jungle grow. The jungle made dead things rot fast.

"Wizard," Tearlach asked Cain, "what's this thing?"

Blanching at the sight of Tearlach's newest trophy, Cain said, "Except for its unusual color, I would say that looks like a human eye. May I assume its former owner did something out of the ordinary with it?"

"It was locked in a chest in a cave. Been there a long time, too."

"Ah!" Cain exclaimed, suddenly feeling better. "It may be that this is a saintly relic! While you've been in the jungle, I have been speaking with the people here, learning what I could. Over the past few years, there have been many signs that this holy city was not as holy as it once was. For one, the relics of the saints were no longer used in public rituals. Rumor had it that the priests of Zakarum could no longer approach them. It may be that Mephisto's forces could not destroy the relics, so they were hidden in dark places, like --"

"Shut up. Why's it still fresh?"

"Well... being the relic of a man blessed by the Light, it lies outside of time and cannot be touched by decay. Much like the angels themselves."

"Blessed by Heaven, huh? Only the sons of the Immortal King are blessed by Heaven, from the ancient days when angels walked the earth as men do now."

An eyebrow raised skeptically, Cain said, "If you are referring to the Nephalem, who all the Barbarian clans claim as ancestor, they are mentioned in Zakarumite scripture. According to the church, they were the first blessed, but it made them proud and selfish. From then on, Heaven selected only mortal agents, based on their words and deeds."

With a contemptuous snort, Tearlach snarled, "The clans are blessed now, as they always were. Everything in the north is as it always was, when men were men. Anyway, what's wrong with being proud and selfish? When you're the best, you should be proud! And who's gonna watch out for a man but himself, anyway?"

Cain closed his eyes and sighed. "I see there is no point in arguing about this."

"Of course not! Can't argue with the simple truth, wizard. So, a saintly relic." Looking over the eyeball, Tearlach laughed. "Being blessed by Heaven didn't do him much good! He's dead! So much for 'blessings' if they can't even keep you alive!"

"All men die in time. Why don't you leave it with me? Perhaps I can find out which saint it was. Oh, and Hratli mentioned that he wished to speak with you."

"Why does it matter which one? One fool is the same as another." Chuckling at how he'd shut the old coot up with the power of reasoning, Tearlach went off to have his equipment repaired. Maybe that scrawny little wizard could manage that much; he'd keep an eye on him to make sure.

"I could have retired..." Cain muttered, feeling very old. "I could have moved to a quiet little village out in the country. No, wait, I did. That quiet little village did not remain quiet for long. Poor Griswold. Maybe I'm under some sort of curse. Things like this never used to happen to me. Maybe if I took a new name..."

While Hratli was polishing Tearlach's axes, he said, "As I told you before, the enchantment I placed over the dockside seems to be weakening."

"That should teach you to hide behind walls. When your fate comes, meet it head on, don't draw it out with cowering and begging."

"I happen to be a recognized expert in cowering and begging. I have taken the coveted Golden Kneepads in the international Sniveller's Olympics for three years running, and will not allow Zakarum to alter my choice of lifestyle now. With a suitable source of magical energy to reinforce the protective dome, we will remain safe much longer."

Taken somewhat aback, Tearlach stood there blinking for a few seconds. "Ah... er... right. Source of magic energy."

"One of the most potent in this area was an ancient Skatsimi dagger, the Gidbinn. It is just the size for a Flayer; most likely that you will find it among them. Bring it to Ormus; he knows the spells which will release the dagger's stored power. Now go about your business, or I will be forced to beg."

"Uh... yeah."

One thing was sure... this guy was the weirdest wizard he'd ever met. He talked like begging was the worst thing he could do! Maybe it was, he probably wasn't much of a wizard. Now that other one, the woman, that was the kind of wizard Tearlach could get along with if she learned to control her temper and stop misinterpreting people. The world would be a better place if more wizards dressed like that... then the image of Cain in a thong passed unbidden through Tearlach's mind. He ran back into the jungle to bathe the image away in blood -- preferably not his own, but that would do if it had to.

Pushing in through the greenery, Tearlach came to a marshy area full of zombies and weird lightning-shooting ghosts. The ghosts disintegrated in one hit; the zombies usually took two. After the first few dozen, he wondered if this was once a battlefield, for so many dead men to be here. The ghosts lent support to the theory: they're common where war leaves the unpurified dead on the ground. Maybe each ghost had a body lost here; to amuse himself, Tearlach tried throwing zombies into the ghosts to see if they'd breathe in the soul and come back to life. It didn't work -- zombies don't breathe. There were also huge river snakes, which spat poison as he passed by. The cowardly things sat too far out in the water for him to reach, but he could safely ignore them.

Tearlach was glad to leave the marsh. He'd more than gotten his fill of undead in Lut Gholein, and these ones smelled even worse. Must be from sitting on a river bottom. As the land got marginally higher and less swampy, he heard drums echoing among the trees: short bursts of drumming, answered by more distant beats. He'd be expected. Not that any warning would save the Zakarumites, but it's good to know someone's noticed his arrival. As he stomped into the greenery, a tiny little man with giant white teeth streaked past him, ululating with excitement as his bitty little legs tore along the ground. Ah, Flayers.

The next hour was a blur of tiny bodies, launching themselves at him in a suicidal frenzy or blowing tiny darts from behind the leaves. More came whenever he took a moment to rest, shredding through the greenery with their tiny knives and spears. It was almost impressive, so much courage in such tiny packages. Their strength was pathetic, but they attacked in such insane fits, with no concern for their own welfare, they were actually beginning to wear him down. Of course, it would take hundreds of them to kill him... but they seemed to have the numbers they needed, and would do absolutely anything to get a piece of him. After he killed one who'd been trying to bring a full-sized spear to bear, Tearlach howled in frustration and took a portal back to the docks.

"Damn it, wizard! You know I'm not a coward. I'd have killed you long ago if you ever thought so!"

"Assuredly," Cain replied with great mildness. "Is something upsetting you?"

"It's these damn little midget bastards! They intend to kill me with sewing needles and pinking shears, and they might have enough of them to do it! I hate them, I hate them, I hate them, I hate the &*$%#*! things so much!!"

"Perhaps if you considered using your shield? I notice you've left it out."

"What?" Tearlach looked around, and noticed a huge shield leaning against his rucksack, the runes Shael and Eth mounted in it. With it was a note:

Master McThornBody,

Go through the Flayer Jungle without a shield or life leech? That's just askin' for it! In the interests of your not being nibbled to death, I'll trade you "Rhyme" for Bloodthief, the unique Brandistock you got there. Flayers carry around the damnedest things, don't they?

After reading the note, Tearlach noticed his pack was lighter. That spear was gone. "Old man, who left this?"

Cain raised an eyebrow. "I thought you did?"

"Never mind, then. I've used a shield before, I can use one again."

Of the many runes the Ancients had given to his people, those meant for shields caused the most argument. Many think a strong warrior should never need a shield. One is only called for against cowards who try to kill from a distance, or professional duelists who take unfair advantages. Others felt the children of Bul-Kathos would not be given a tool unless they were meant to make use of it as the need arose. Flexibility is the most important weapon in a warrior's arsenal, so his mind must be sharper than his steel. Tearlach, who took pride in his keen intellect and intuitive grasp of tactics, was willing to try a shield again, particularly if directed to by the higher powers guiding his destiny.

As he knew it would, the shield made the blow-darts a lot easier to deal with. His bejeweled war axe did nearly as much damage as Brainhew anyway, so Tearlach moved the big axe to his back and hacked through the Flayer's jungles from behind a shield. Soon, he found a village of the tiny freaks, with tiny huts and tiny walls, and human skulls impaled on stakes. Human bodies lay where they were being sliced up like butchered pigs, and moldy bones were boiling in a huge cauldron. After killing every last living thing in the place (even one of the talkative green birds that accidentally strayed too close) he found a little blade, made not of iron or even bronze, but copper.

Back on the docks, Tearlach brought the copper dagger to Ormus. "Hey, stupid! The other wizard says I should bring this to Ormus, so he can do something with it."

"You have done well, hero. Now, Ormus may use the knowledge he has spent a lifetime collecting, for the good of all."

"Good for him. When's he going to show his face?"

"The face of Ormus is known to all, as is his shame. The past is mirror to the future, like the black river beneath our feet. Will the future be so dark, Ormus wonders?"

Tearlach had become bored almost the instant Ormus started babbling. He got his armor fixed, set a new giant axe he found with gems and runes, sold off Brainhew, and came back; Ormus was still babbling. "Ormus congratulates you. Take this ring; it does me no good! And you must speak with Asheara. She has something for you."

She has something for me? Tearlach thought. That sounds... intriguing. Maybe she's coming around. He went up to meet her, wondering if he should put the shield away. Having it out might imply he was afraid to meet her -- a ludicrous idea, but you never know what a woman will start thinking. No, he decided: why should he do any different than what he always did just because of what a woman thinks?

Asheara smirked as Tearlach came in. "Hi there. Nice shield. Or is that someone's wall you're carrying around these days?"

Vindictive little tart. But Tearlach knew that sweet words were a surer way to a woman's heart than sharp retorts. He decided to try flattery. "I came to hear of something a wizard and leader has to say, not to listen to a chattering woman's insults. Does this leader of men have anything to say?"

She stared hard for a moment, before a twinkle crept into her eye. He'd guessed right about how to flatter her. "Ormus says the dome's been strengthened. It looks like fewer of my men are needed to guard the dockside."

"So, will they be standing idle, or do you have other uses for them?" Her eyes went hard again in an instant. "I meant attacking, not sitting on these miserable docks."

"You'd better mean that," she snapped. "Yes, we're attacking. I've got a lot of revenge for Zakarum and their midget minions. I'm also assigning a man to go along with you."

Tearlach laughed. "You sure he'll be safe?"

"Don't piss my men off, any of them. They're a lot more dangerous than anything in the jungle out there."

"You think he'll actually be useful to me?"

"Oh, yeah."

The new mercenary actually wasn't very useful in the caves under the Flayer village. He shot lightning every now and then, or let loose a few sparks, but hardly sped their progress. Even when he concentrated all his bolts on one Flayer, the thing was hardly better than half-dead before Tearlach lost patience and chopped it in two himself. He found himself wasting more time waiting in the dark for him to catch up than he saved by the extra firepower. The only place he might have proven his worth was against the skeleton Flayers. They were something new: when they died, they exploded. Could a mage fry the bastards before they got close? No -- he couldn't even make a dent in them. Wizards.

In the deepest part of the cave, Tearlach found another strongbox being guarded by a bunch of Flayer shamans. Inside was a bunch of gold, and a human brain, still soft and squishy. It wouldn't break up in his fingers, though, despite its softness. More saint bits, hidden away. But maybe some use would come of them... if Mephisto feared the Zakarum saints, surely they couldn't be all bad.