Chapter 16: Piscivorous Venom and the Cloak of the Four Winds

  “You’re not in a position to make threats,” Cahl said. He slipped a pearlescent panflute from within his coat. “I have a few questions for you.”

  Yeckith eyed the instrument and sneered before thrashing about. He succeeded in knocking himself over, but not at getting loose. Cahl’s knots held firm. He snapped out at my foot, lightning quick. I yanked my foot back just in time.

  “Shit!” I shouted.

  Cahl put the panflute to his lips and played a mesmerizing melody. Yeckith’s eyes glazed over and he went limp. Cahl played for a few more seconds before stopping.

  “Let’s get him sitting back up. He will be harmless for about thirty more seconds.” Cahl said.

  I helped Cahl sit the stunned snake-man back up. His head flopped around as if unconscious. His eyes were half lidded and glazed.

  “Henrietta, can you help with securing this chair?” Cahl asked.

  Henrietta grumbled something under her breath about her tea house floor before chanting, moving her hands in small motions. Roots emerged from the wooden floor and wrapped the legs of the chair, securing it.

  “He shouldn’t be able to break that,” she said.

  Yeckith’s dazed expression melted away. He blinked his eyes several times, shaking his head before looking around the room and hissing.

  “Now, let's get you talking,” Cahl said. He put the panflute back to his lips. Yeckith had a very different look on his face this time. His eyes widened and he began thrashing again. The chair didn’t budge, and he screamed as Cahl began playing a different melody.

  “YOU WILL NOT… HAVE MY MIND… BARD! SSRANTHIC CURSE YOU!” He flailed harder, looking around the room and finding nothing within reach to use. He snapped out at us several times, but we stood well out of the range of his strikes.

  Cahl continued to play the song, a gentle melody with ornate melodic trills. He started stomping his foot in a rhythmic pulse. Yeckith’s eyes lost focus.

  “NOOOOO!” he screamed. The force of his scream seemed to fight back the effects of Cahl’s melody. Cahl continued playing and stomping. I felt myself drawn towards the song, an intense desire to tell Cahl anything and everything. I couldn’t imagine the force of will required to resist a direct, aimed assault of the melody.

  “THE SENC WILL SUCCEED! CHAOS WILL REIGN! SSRANTHIC TAKE ME!!!!” he held out the last word in a scream that left my ears ringing.

  He opened his mouth, shifting his jaw and extending his fangs. He bit down, sinking his fangs into his own face. The flesh around his lower jaw bulged slightly as he injected an alarming amount of venom into himself. He gurgled, choking as the lower portion of his head and upper portion of his neck deteriorated.

  I watched in horror as the venom ate through the muscle and tissue below his skin. It bulged and rippled. He went slack, his head laying at an angle. Thick black fluid leaked around the entry points where his fangs were still mired in his lower jaw.

  “Damn and damned,” Cahl said, sliding the panflute away. “Didn’t think it would come to that. Hell of a way to die.”

  I pulled out the Tablet of Purification, frowning. “I wasn’t quick enough to give him this… we could have learned something.”

  Henrietta looked at the small pill. “A Tablet of Purification, those are rare and valuable items. Where did you get it?”

  I looked away, stashing it back in my inventory and blushing. “I, uh. Found it in the catacombs.”

  “Hmmm.” She gave me a long glance before stepping over to the body. “The venom worked too quickly, so it would have done no good. He injected several lethal doses worth directly into his own head. He was dead in seconds.”

  She tapped her chin in thought for a second before continuing.

  “Sranthic? I thought his followers were all but eliminated more than a century ago… at the base of Mount Elgethor?” Henrietta said, lifting the dead beastkin’s head with a walking staff.

  “No, that was the Aryethic. Were they the nomadic sect that terrorized the archipelagos to the southeast a few decades ago?” Cahl asked.

  “That was the Weltros. Wicked Weltros, remember?” Henrietta offered.

  “Ahh, yes. Nasty lot. Damned. Why are there so many cults and sects? It feels like a new one pops up every six months.” Cahl complained.

  “What about that sect in the Tresfall Glade?” Henrietta asked.

  “Maybe, but I think they worshiped a giant badger. Or was is an otter? It started with an A. Arken… something? No, I don’t think it was them.” Cahl hedged. “I’ll spend some time in the Verdantbrook Archives. They aren't as extensive as the ones in the capital, but it’s worth digging into.”

  “How many cults pop up a year, that sounds like a lot!” I said, looking between them.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Oh there are usually a few decades between them. Occasionally we get a good century or two.” Henrietta smiled, “we are older than we look, dear.”

  Cahl grinned at Henrietta, cradling his chin in the nook between his thumb and forefinger. He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Please do something about the corpse before you go,” Henrietta snorted.

  “Of course. And thank you, again, for helping with this little problem.” Cahl walked over and began untying the body.

  “Wait, wait.” Henrietta said. “Drag it out of the shed, I don’t want any of that fluid leaking in the floors. It’ll stain.”

  She knelt, touching the roots holding the chair in place and whispered. The roots retreated back into the ground, leaving small holes in the polished wood floor.

  “I will already be replacing one section of floor. I would prefer it not be more than that.”

  “Right, right, Chanter, come help me with this.” Cahl said.

  I helped lift and carry the chair and corpse out of the small building. Once outside, Cahl untied Yeckith’s body. It fell over and leaked a stinky black fluid on the rocky soil. Cahl shoved the body off the side of the cliff; I heard a muffled splash far below. He kicked some dirt over the black stain as Henrietta stepped out.

  “Did you just push that corpse over the cliff?” She asked, her voice rising.

  “Yeah, how else should I have disposed of it?” Cahl asked.

  “That was perfectly good compost you just wasted! Really, Cahl, you never change. So much waste.”

  He smiled, scratching the back of his head. “Ah, hells, I’m sorry, Henrietta. I didn’t even think.”

  “You rarely do, you lovable idiot. What’s done is done. The current is strong along this part of the coast. The body is long gone — fodder for one of the behemoths of the deep, likely.”

  I thought about the bodies in my inventory, and almost offered one of them to make up for it. After a second thought I decided against it. What kind of madman carried around corpses?

  The NPCs had not seemed to notice player inventory space, and they also didn’t seem to share it. From what I could tell, Cahl always grabbed objects on his person. I wasn’t sure if it was just a facet of the AI that translated the action in some way for the NPCs to make sense, but I decided that producing entire corpses might not be a good idea.

  “At least none of that vile fluid got on my chair. Would you like some tea before you go?” Henrietta asked.

  “I would love some! And Chanter would love to practice his new song while we drink.”

  “I don’t know if that song has the… relaxing quality I prefer when drinking tea.” Henrietta said as we walked to her cabin.

  “That’s the beauty of it! If he doesn’t screw it up, we won’t hear a thing!” Cahl said.

  They heard quite a bit. I practiced while they sat back and sipped from steaming cups of a floral scented tea. They alternated between watching my successive failed performances and making small talk.

  I failed more refrains than I succeeded, but an hour later I had gained two levels in Stringed Instrument, bringing it to 13/50, as well as raising the connection with my lute to 82%. I was able to maintain three or four refrains before missing enough notes to fail the performance at the end of the hour.

  My fingers ached, my hands felt like someone had beat them with a club. My arms burned from the extended effort. I consumed one of the minor healing potions from my quick slot and the pain subsided.

  “Alright, thank you for the tea, Henrietta,” Cahl said. “We should head out before it gets too late.”

  “You’re welcome anytime. Both of you. Chanter, you’re doing well. Keep up the hard work. If you need anything, I’m here.” She walked us to the edge of the forest before waving and heading back.

  We walked in silence for several minutes, passing the area of forest that the giant spider had previously inhabited before Cahl spoke up.

  “It’s important to practice that song while walking, as well. Difficult songs like that are usually learned in parts. First you practice to be able to successfully perform it. Then you practice until you can perform it without fail more times than not. After that you begin practicing while walking. Then you can add enhancers. Most songs can be enhanced by accompanying the music with other beats.”

  “That is why you were stomping your foot during that song you played with the pan flute?” I asked.

  “Exactly! Though not required, adding complexity and depth to performances increases their strength. But first you should practice the song to such an extent that you can succeed most performances. Then you should have enough comfort with the song to add embellishments.”

  He pulled the beautiful lute off of his back and readied it in his hands. “Musical magic can also be compounded if both bards know the song. Let’s play Radiant Winds while we walk. Have you been practicing?”

  I stopped walking, pulled out my lute, and began playing. I let my performance speak for me, succeeding at 85%. Seven glowing orbs emanated from the lute. I sent them soaring into the sky in a revolving circle, smiling.

  “Well done!” he said, playing a different song. It was a series of strummed notes that folded in on themselves. I noticed the cooldown on Radiant Winds was refreshed.

  “What was that? The song’s cooldown just got refreshed?”

  “Let’s focus on these current songs, and learn a new one later. Maybe. Now, let's perform together. You begin, I’ll play a counter.”

  I began playing the song again. Cahl joined a half a heartbeat later. His melody wrapped around mine, built upon it, boosted it. I felt the power of the song surge, completing it at 87%. Fifteen orbs, twice as large as any I had produced before, appeared. I sent them skyward, stunned at the size and quantity.

  “You see,” he said. “It’s not a simple thing, otherwise there would be armies of bards performing the world into submission, but it is possible. It requires mastery of a song — full mastery, to join in a performance as I just did — but it’s possible. I wanted you to have a better understanding of the potential.” He swung his lute over his back and started walking again.

  “But let's get back to the next step for you. You should practice playing the pizzicato while we walk back to the city.”

  It was, in fact, much more difficult to play an instrument while walking. This was not really surprising, all things considered. I bumped up my Stringed Instrument skill to 14 and gained another percent towards attuning my lute, by the time we arrived back at the city, failing every attempt at performing the song while walking, until the end.

  I succeeded one refrain of the song as the large city walls came into view. I pumped my fist in the air, cheering.

  “That is seriously impressive, Chanter. I didn’t expect you to succeed.”

  “Thank you! It’s so difficult, but so fulfilling when it actually works!” a thrill from successfully completing the song surged through me.

  Cahl nodded, closing his eyes and breathing in. “Alright. I think it’s time.”

  “Time for what?” I asked. The ambiguity of that sentence scared the shit out of me.