Chapter 6
GREY SWAMP, GREEN WATER
“There it is,” Ushga said. “Castle Gaddler.”
They crouched behind a rank of low trees, ankle deep in sloppy grey mud. They crouched as if to hide, but the only spies here were frogs.
The whole scene was grey. The plants and the vines, the stone that made up the castle, all grey. But the moss and the algae and the dust in the air were all green.
Bakura hated it. The red spots on his sand-colored skin & wings stood out like a splatter of blood on the night.
And Ushga…
Her crimson skin was like a brimming well of wine on the landscape.
He looked away from her.
“Looks quiet,” grumbled Bakura, acting annoyed. It was an easy enough emotion for him.
“He’s in there,” she said. “You can be sure of that. Now, whether or not he has your… er… what are we looking for again?”
“I,” said Bakura, “am taking back what’s mine.”
“Which is…?”
“A mask. A mask of bone.”
He rubbed his wings together, using the claw of one to itch the other. Ushga stared without meaning to.
“I’ve never met an orc with wings before,” said Ushga.
Bakura grinned. “Pretty sure I’m the only one.”
“How did…? I mean, were you born with…?”
Bakura adjusted the bracer on one of his gauntlets. The sleeve kept falling out. It had been years since he’d had clothes of his own, clothes that fit.
How many years? he wondered.
Hhhh, hissed the dagger.
That long, huh?
He grimaced down at the bracer before finally giving up, and aiming a look at her.
“No.”
He used his smile like a pole, to keep a safe distance from her.
“I wasn’t born with wings,” said Bakura.
“Then how?”
“Great question. ‘How.’ How did I become the monster that I am?”
Usgha frowned. “You’re not a monster.”
Bakura barked out a laugh, then turned his attention back to his bracer. He shook his head, back and forth.
“I mean it!” said Ushga.
Her crimson cheeks did the opposite of blush.
“You’re not a monster.”
“Of course I am.”
“A monster wouldn’t’ve saved me.”
Bakura stopped fidgeting, and stared down into nothing.
“If you think that…” he said.
Bakura looked up at her.
“…Then you’ve never met a monster.”
Ushga smirked. “Or maybe I have a different idea of what a monster is than you.”
Frogs were croaking, louder now.
“The Sun’s setting,” said Bakura. “We’d better get going.”
And he went. Ushga squelched through the mud after him.
The whole East side of Guttry was a web of bogs and grey swamps, but as they neared the fortress, Bakura saw it’s stillwater moat.
“Why are the bridges down?” Ushga asked.
Bakura looked at her. “Maybe it’s deserted.”
Ushga shook her head.
“You know that if you were wrong,” Bakura said, “I’m going to that other castle.”
“Of course,” said Ushga.
“It’s a long way.”
“What, you want me to carry you?” she said, smirking again. Always smirking, her.
“Do I have to insult you to make you stay?” said Bakura.
“You can try.”
“You don’t owe me anything, you know.”
She made a face. “Owe you?”
“For saving my life,” he said.
“I’m not here because of that.”
“Then why are you here?”
Ushga cracked a smile. “Guess,” she said.
“…No.”
“Go on, guess.”
“I don’t like guessing.”
“Neither do I.”
Bakura was not amused, though.
“You honestly want to know?” Bakura said.
“Of course! That’s why I—”
“A demon. I got these wings from a demon.”
Ushga sort of scoffed. Then she saw how serious he was.
“There’s no such thing as demons,” she said. “Silly word. ‘Demon.’ What does that even mean?”
“You don’t wanna know,” said Bakura.
He did not blink.
He did fidget.
He was serious as stone could be.
“Why would anybody—?”
“Because. Because only a demon can kill a demon. The Death Knight burned my village down and… slaughtered my… He… Right in fr…”
Bakura looked down. He clenched every muscle in his face, made every sinew so tight that the tears couldn’t come out. Even his bones were squeezing, and the dagger…
Hhhh…
The dagger took pity on him. That was the worst thing about the demon. Sometimes, it was kind, and meant it.
Hhhh…
When the red wind embraced him, it felt like Ushga’s arms.
It was Ushga’s arms.
Bakura flinched away, wings flaring. He covered his eyes with his hand, and stomped through the mud a few paces away.
He breathed heavily, trying to regain his composure. He clenched and clenched until the tears stopped wanting to come.
“Sorry,” said Ushga.
Bakura shook his head, but his back was to her now. She couldn’t see his face.
“Let’s go,” he tried to say, but his voice failed him halfway through. He blinked away the tears, and went forward, sludging on toward Castle Gaddler & its moat.
* * * * / * * * *
“You were right,” Bakura wanted to say. “Much nicer than the last one.”
But he didn’t. He was still shaken. Now that the emotion was gone, only a weary hollowness was in him.
Revenge sometimes seemed so far away. Seemed impossible. And at this particular moment, Bakura was even wondering if it was all worth it.
He didn’t wonder this often, but when he did, Bakura felt a—
Hhhh…
You’re right, thought Bakura. Focus. Focus.
With the exception of the moss that slimed the walls of the castle, Bakura could tell this place was still lived in. Both bridges were down, and the castle seemed empty.
“Oh,” said Ushga.
“What?”
“I see. They’re not down. They’re down. As in torn down.”
She was right. The chains that held up the bridges were severed from their pulley, and lay limp over the side of the bridges. The swamp moat was very high, and so the wooden bridges were able to float on top of the water.
“Big moat,” said Bakura, nose stuffy with stench. He missed the desert.
“I mean, it’s still weird,” Ushga admitted, “but I thought that—”
“Yes yes, we don’t have to talk about it,” Bakura snapped, picking up his pace.
There were arrows and crossbow bolts in the mud. Blood on the ferns.
“No bodies, though,” Bakura thought allowed.
“What?” said Ushga.
“Recent battle?” he asked.
“Uh… When I got caught,” Ushga admitted, “they sent a… group, a, uh… band from my village. After me.”
“A band, huh? How many?”
Ushga shrugged. Her voice was small, partially not to be heard as they approached the fortress. But partially for another reason.
“Thirty,” she mumbled. “Thirty or so.”
Bakura’s eyebrows went up. “You must be well-liked.”
“It’s a small village,” she said. “Everyone is well-liked.”
“Oh, is that how it works?”
Hhhh!
Bakura caught himself smiling, and killed the joy.
You’re right. Focus.
Hhhh…
I know. The mask.
Hhhh…
Then the Death Knight.
Hhhh! the dagger disagreed.
“Yes I am!” he said.
Ushga was started. “…You are what?”
Bakura looked at her. He shook his head.
“Nevermind.”
They came to the moat, and Bakura saw the felled chains. They draped over the side of the bridge, only visible for a moment before disappearing into the murky what’s-that? of the moat. The chains showed signs of frequent use— the inner edge of the chains was rubbed clean of moss, mold, or rust.
“What are you waiting for?” said Ushga.
“What do you mean?”
“You afraid of water or something?”
He was, but didn’t want to admit it.
“Over the bridge?!” Bakura said.
“Shh!” Ushga hissed.
Bakura was embarrassed by that. Easy way to get killed was to shout when you should be sneaking.
Once they were sure no one was coming, Bakura turned back to her and hissed in a whisper.
“Are you—? There’s no way that can hold us!”
She smiled. “You are scared.”
Bakura’s sandskin cheeks blushed as red as the spots on his wings. Pride wounded, he went forward as if to show her how wrong she was.
But she wasn’t wrong. The wood floated, even though it was a huge slab of wood.
“See?” said Ushga. “These bridges were designed for this.”
They began across the bridge, Bakura first, Ushga leaving some space behind him. As they stepped, the bridge rippled and wobbled a little, which made Bakura make a face he’d never made before.
The still water broke at even the slightest ripple. Algae and pollen clumbed, rocking to reveal grey holes in the surface of the green, green water.
The night was growing now. It was going to be a dark one, and there was only a sliver of yellow moon to light their way forward.
As they came under the gate… and into the reach…
Ushga let out a sigh of dismay.
“Abandoned,” she admitted.
“I knew it,” said Bakura. Then, his sadness was replaced by swelling rage. “I knew it.”
“Sorry,” Ushga said.
“I hate this place.”
He was so mad he had to move. Bakura stormed past her, marching into the courtyard.
No one.
“I knew it! I KNEW IT!”
He kept shouting it, louder and louder, as loud as he could.
“I was going to go the other way, too!”
“I know,” Ushga said, feeling small.
He stormed away, searching the rooms.
“Hey!” he shouted. “Anybody here?! Come out, come out! Come on, come try and bag the monster! I dare you!”
He went into a door. Ushga followed sheepishly, and lost sight of him.
He threw open a door, which slammed, echoing in the courtyard. She caught up to him.
This room was an armory. No one.
He went back into the courtyard, storming passed her without making eye contact. Ushga did not follow him, just sort of stood there numb. Thinking. Embarrassed.
“Anybody?!” he shouted from across the courtyard.
She heard him throw open another door.
“ABANDONED! OF COURSE IT IS!”
Hhhh… the red wind hissed. Ushga actually heard it a little, but didn’t know what it was saying.
Hhhh…
It just sounded like a wind.
Hhhh…
Like a warning.
“SHUT! UP!” Bakura shouted into the air. “WE TRIED THAT! THREE TIMES! That temple was FLOODED, and then the second was…! The second— I’m so mad, I can’t even talk right now! I can’t even THINK!”
He threw open the double doors to the mess hall, and Ushga followed him in.
“The second one was in a VOLCANO?!? How exactly were you planning to—? And there’s nobody in HERE EITHER!”
Bakura flipped a table, with a horrible strength his scrawny, starving body should never have had. The table flew through the air, across the mess hall.