Chapter Nine: Beast or Beast
AS GRONJAS HAD said, there was a wild hunt scheduled for his subunit, the Orikani, in a western town. The forest around it had been terrorised by a squirrel beast that had apparently ravaged their supply of grain for the upcoming winter. Nilhin had yet to experience the winters of Krokstad, but from the rumors and the way people spoke of it, the winters there grew very harsh and very cold. He departed with his subunit, carrying his sword strapped to his back. It almost dragged the ground due to its impressive length, but it was actually less heavy when he could support it with his entire body.
He followed at the back, because he wasn’t wanted near the others, nor did the new captain, Ogar, want him anywhere near them. They got to the town, and headed into the forest around it, just waiting to be hunted. The beast didn’t approach them at all during the day no matter what they did.
“We’ll set up camp here,” Ogar commanded, motioning to a relatively flat part of the forest. Ogar got a tent since he was the captain, a small thing sent up facing north, and the rest of them got to use their bed rolls by the fire. The fire was set and blazing.
“Go get us some water,” Ogar said, looking at Nilhin. Nilhin picked up their water skins and tried to figure out where there was water. They came from the northeast, and so he went south. Soon, his ears picked up the sound of water trickling over the rocks. Nilhin continued in that direction, and knelt down at the water’s edge. There was a rustle in the underbrush nearby, but surely this was quite some distance from the squirrel beast’s territory. Nilhin filled the water, his hands growing red and chapped as he dunked them beneath the water’s surface. He wiped his hands off on his tunic, and began to haul the water back towards the camp.
There were no interactions between him or any life it seemed. Nilhin approached the camp, where the men had gathered around the fire.
“Do you see the way he trails after the General? How pathetic,” one of his fellow subunit disciples said.
“I heard General was asking questions about him, and nobody even knew who he was talking about,” Kveda said with a snicker. “He’s wasting his time with that brat. At least he brought some attention to the rest of us, but that’s as far as he got. I wonder why the General is so interested in a weak little nobody.”
“I heard he came from a brothel,” another man said. Nilhin’s grip on the waterskins increased. The dried skin shifted beneath his fingers as he squeezed. “I bet that’s why the General is so interested in him. I wonder what he can do, having been a whore from such a young age.”
“I bet he’s no fun,” Ogar said. “Too loose.”
“I’d like to hold him down anyway,” Kveda said. “Just show him where he belongs: serving me.”
The subunit laughed, and Nilhin turned and walked away, taking their waterskins with him. The light had all but faded from the sky, and thus the darkness gave him the cover to sneak away. He returned to the stream and sat down. It was very calm there, with only the soothing trickle of water, and the soft rustle of the underbrush to remind him that he wasn’t truly alone.
Where had his subunit heard such things about him? He had been careful not to mention anything about his past life, about his time with his mother, and nobody had even asked him. Why was it, that no matter how hard he tried, he was always being relegated to being nothing more than a whore’s son at best, and a whore himself at worst. He drank some water and lit a small fire to keep himself warm, although more often than not, Nilhin had grown used to seeing in the dark, and didn’t need much light to navigate as if it were daylight. Sometimes, his eyes adjusted so well, it was like he could see better.
The more silent it grew around him, the more Nilhin could hear. He could hear distant crickets chirping despite the cold, and he could hear grubs in the pine trees eating through the bark and drilling deeper for warmth and sap. He could hear different animals scurrying through the forests, his ears twitching as he listened. He lay back on the ground, pillowing his hands beneath his head. There was the sound of specific chirping, almost like a squirrel. Nilhin could hunt squirrels with his bare hands, he wasn’t particularly afraid of a squirrel beast. This wasn’t arrogance, he didn’t think, it was more like confidence because he had hunted for most of his journey to Krokstad, and had fallen many squirrels in the process.
“Hello?” he asked, quiet and now unsure as the sounds that once converged into a peaceful lullaby of the night, was silenced by the chirping of the squirrel. There was skittering behind him, and he turned around to look. There was nothing there. He thought for a moment, and then he leaned forward and smelled the air. He was learning that everything had a scent, and he could rely more on scent than his sight. It was how he avoided his antagonists around the Hvit Fortress. They were great at hiding from his eyes, but they all smelled. Right then, Nilhin could smell squirrels, but not just any squirrel, one that reeked of magic. The frosty scent of gelid energy came to mind, and it almost burned when he inhaled, drying his nose out and leaving his chest numb with the cold. That was magic, the squirrel beast was nearby, and Nilhin would venture to guess, it was a female. Then again, the vast majority of beasts were female.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said. He drew his sword and tossed it away from him. “If you don’t hurt me, then why would I bother harming you?”
There was the click-clack of claws above him, and then skittering down the side of a tree was a squirrel the size of a large dog. It stood up on its back legs and leaned forward, holding its hand out. It must not have been old enough to speak yet. Nilhin held his hand out as well. The squirrel hopped towards him, and touched their hands together.
“Can you speak?” he asked, his voice softer than a whisper so as not to frighten the beast away. The squirrel just chirped in response, shaking her head. “But you can understand me, can’t you?” The squirrel nodded, her ears flicking the sides, and her fluffy tail curling around them both. She got closer to Nilhin, and then her little clawed paws held Nilhin’s cheeks. She chirped again, squawking a little before she chittered and ran away, up the tree and out of Nilhin’s sight. Nilhin was left for only a moment, before the squirrel beast came back down, she came bearing gifts. She shoved hairy, unshelled chestnuts into his hands and chittered again. Nilhin smiled, and peeled off their husks before he sliced the shells with his sword. He tossed them into the fire.
“I’ll cool them so I can eat them,” he said. She shook her head and put her paw on his mouth. “I have to cook them.” She chittered again and then she hopped around him, running a circle around where he sat. “I don’t have to cook them?” he asked. She nodded and then started to pull at his tunic. “What?” he asked, reaching behind him to pull off whatever she wanted. She was scratching at his back.
“I don’t know what you want,” he admitted. She grabbed her tail and jumped on his knee to show him.
“I don’t have a tail,” he said. She turned to face him and chittered. She motioned with her paws. “I don’t--” he began, but he remembered, a very long time ago, when he was just a baby, no older than one, having a tail. In fact, his mother had one, too. She had three of them, and she wrapped them around him and curled them with his smaller tail. It was one of the moments he felt the safest he ever had, and sometimes he still thought of that memory. Except it couldn’t be a real memory, because his mother didn’t have a tail -- humans didn’t have tails. It was ridiculous to think otherwise, and it was foolish to think his mother was anything but human. If she hadn’t been human, she wouldn’t have died. It wasn’t a real memory, it was… it was something else, something made up, that he used for comfort. That’s all it could be.
“What do you know?” he asked, looking at the squirrel beast that was apparently causing so much chaos in the town. She chirped and chittered again, before she plopped herself in his lap. She showed her strength when her little hands, attached to tiny arms, grabbed his arm and yanked it towards herself. She stroked his hands almost like his mother used to, like the maternal women he had known, who helped raise him, all did.
“I’m not a baby,” he said with a soft laugh. She chittered again, which happened to be her only response.
He couldn’t stay with the squirrel beast forever, though, and he’d have to go sooner rather than later.
“I have to go back to my camp,” he said. “They’re trying to hunt you… you should leave this forest. Go somewhere else. Somewhere we can’t catch you.” He hoped that he could reason with her, but she just tilted her head and chittered again, unable to process his words no matter her intelligence. Sometimes, he read, beasts are called that because they are smarter than normal animals, but they are still just animals, and are even greater slaves to their instincts. It could be that this squirrel beast had seen Nilhin as someone needing to be cared for rather than destroyed, and the people that prey on her kin, humans who ate squirrels, were her enemies. There was no changing her ability to rationalise things, that’s what magic did, and how animals could continue to cultivate to grow stronger and stronger. It was surprising something like a squirrel managed even this much intelligence of its own.
He set the squirrel beast down, and picked up everything, putting his sword back in his sheath, and grabbed his roasted chestnuts as well. He cracked their shells as he walked away, drinking from his waterskin as well. He walked back to the camp, where only a few of them were still awake. Ogar was one of them, although Kveda was asleep.
“Nice of you to join us,” Ogar said. “I honestly thought the little squirrel beast had killed you. Even the most incompetent slave doesn’t take hours to get water.”
“Forgive this one,” Nilhin said, distributing the water skins to those who were awake, and setting the others down for when their owners woke up. “I got sidetracked.”
“Got nothing in that head of yours, do you?” Ogar asked. The disciples snickered around him, which only spurred him forward. “Except terrible thoughts, don’t you? Probably vulgar. You’re probably so twisted and vile, from where you grew up.”
Nilhin was thinking horrible thoughts, but none of them involved anything he learned at the brothel. He wanted to kill Ogar, to kill Kveda, to kill the others, and reign supreme. He may not be a good mage or warrior, yet, but he could certainly fight to learn and improve himself. These idiots didn’t even have that in them, the determination to be and do better.
“Speak!” Ogar shouted with a laugh, “Tell me what you and your pathetic little self are so busy thinking about.”
“This one wasn’t thinking anything,” Nilhin said.
“Head empty and mouth wide open, huh?” Ogar asked with another laugh. Nilhin couldn’t help when his fingers twitched, itching to try and combat this man. He would fight him, and he would destroy him or die trying. Nilhin looked down to hide the shame at once again being demeaned and reduced to a sexual object. He didn’t remember his aunties being treated in such a manner, but he rarely went out in public with them, and the men in the brothel were too busy trying to couple with them to degrade them for the service they were providing. He heard a few hollers and chants from the streets, most commonly done by women or men who had partaken in his aunties’ services and didn’t want their wives to know.
“Well, come here,” Ogar said. Nilhin started to walk forward, but then he stopped.
“Why?” Nilhin asked.
“Because I want to see if it’s true,” Ogar said. Nilhin’s lip curled, but his face was aimed at the ground.
“If what’s true?” Nilhin asked, trying to keep his voice as pleasant as possible.
“Well you were raised in a brothel weren’t you? Let me see what you learned, and since I’m your captain, I feel like I should get it for free. I do so much for you, after all.” Ogar, who was sitting outside his tent, his back to the fabric, spread his legs, his elbows on his knees. “Come on, pretty boy, maybe you’re not so worthless after all if you feel as good as you look.”
The other disciples seemed shocked for a moment before they cheered Ogar on.
“Go on!” they cried, one of them standing up to physically push Nilhin towards Ogar. That disciple backed away once he was standing between Ogar’s legs.
“I’m not doing it,” Nilhin said. “I won’t-- I refuse.”
“Oh, now that he’s finally useful he digs his heels in,” Ogar said with a sigh. The man drew his sword, and even though he was seated, the tip of the blade touched Nilhin’s throat. “Come on, it won’t kill you, and it might make me a little nicer to you when we get back -- if you can do a good job, that is. Come on, Nilhin. Get on your knees.”
“No,” Nilhin said. Ogar huffed, before the sword shifted, and suddenly it sliced through the skin on Nilhin’s cheek. It was superficial, but it still stung, and it bled.
“It looks like the squirrel beast got to you, doesn’t it? I can heal that, maybe save your face from scarring, if you just do what I want,” Ogar said. Nilhin knew it would be significantly easier to get his needs met if he were to remain beautiful, and a scar on his face was not going to attract the right kind of people. He pushed the sword away from him, and lowered himself to his knees. The disciples around them, the ones that were awake, snickered and whispered among themselves.
“He’s really going to do it,” one of them said.
“What else can he do?”
“Smart boy,” Ogar said. He reached out, and with a warmth of fiery heat, touched the side of Nilhin’s face. The blood remained, but the cut was gone. Was it really so easy to seamlessly repair the damage that he had done? Ogar would surely use this knowledge to continue his abuse, and Nilhin would have no way to stop him. Nilhin leaned forward and pushed Ogar’s tunic up so he could unlace the front. Ogar laughed at him, reaching out to stroke Nilhin’s hair. “Wow, you’re really going to do it. I knew you would, of course. I just didn’t realise you’d be so eager for it, whore.” Nilhin grit his teeth together. The more Ogar spoke, the more Nilhin wanted to forget any pretense and act, and just punch through the man’s chest and rip all of his pieces out to save for later.
Despite hating the situation, Nilhin’s mouth watered at the idea of this interaction. His lower belly, right above his pubic region, grew icy-hot like when he practiced cultivating his internal energies. That was the area where the apex formed, of course, so it made sense. Nilhin reached into the unlaced trousers and fished out the firm but not quite aroused manhood from the confines.
“Holy hell,” Ogar started with a gasp. “You’re really… oh my!”
“Did you not want me to?” Nilhin asked.
“Well, I just didn’t think you were really such a dirty whore. I thought you’d have a little bit of dignity,” Ogar said. “I mean, you know what this means. This is all you’ll ever do for us, and you can’t even complain, because you started it yourself.”
That burning, never-ending hunger that woke Nilhin up due to the profound feeling of emptiness sometimes, the feeling he had attributed with his mother being gone, once again flared up. He wanted to rid himself of that feeling, he wanted to be full, but not at the expense of the rest of his employment and education with the Hvit Clan.
“I don’t want to do this now, why would I do it again?” Nilhin asked.
“Oh, don’t lie,” Ogar said. “You want this. I know you do.” Ogar grabbed the back of Nilhin’s head and pulled him down, dropping his sword to do so. Nilhin braced himself, holding his hand against Ogar’s thigh so his face wouldn’t be smashed into his crotch. “Come on, stop fighting it and just get me off already. You’re not very good at this, are you?”
“I don’t want to be watched,” Nilhin said.
“Oh, he’s shy!” Ogar said with another laugh. “Don’t worry, the boys’ll look away this time. Right? Go on, turn around and keep an eye out for the beast. You’ll have your turn soon enough.” Nilhin turned his head just to make sure that the other men had turned their heads. Seeing that they had turned their entire bodies to watch for the beast made Nilhin turn back to Ogar. He surged forward, and Ogar yelped when his mouth enveloped him.
“Not so shy,” Ogar said a moment later, followed by a moan. “It’s been months…”
Months? It had been months, that’s all? How could someone want sex that often? Nilhin didn’t know how his mother had done it, but he had long since come to terms with the fact she probably hadn’t wanted to have sex more often than not, it was simply her job. He inhaled through his nose, he moaned around his mouthful, and felt Ogar in the back of his throat. He closed his eyes, not letting the tears escape as he did so. Ogar’s fingers clenched in his hair, holding him still so he could thrust inside his mouth. His thrusts grew sloppy and erratic, and that burning hunger slowly dissipated.
When Nilhin moaned, one of relief and satisfaction, it was so real. The hand in his hair grew weaker and weaker, and then the men started to scream. There was a horrible chitter, and that squirrel beast had returned. Nilhin pulled away from Ogar, grabbing his sword. The squirrel beast landed on the shrunken corpse of Ogar, his bones protruding, every ounce of life gone from his visage. Nilhin screamed as well, and when the other disciples saw Ogar, their screaming grew loud enough and panicked enough to rouse everyone who dared to sleep.
“It killed the captain!” one of the disciples said. Nilhin looked at the squirrel beast. She looked at him with her overly large brown eyes. Why had she killed him? Had it been… maybe, to protect him? She had helped him earlier, spent time with him, she had been so kind to him, so gentle, just like his mother or his aunties. She had been too late, he had already been defiled, but the care she offered him. That was more than he usually got.
“Kill it!” someone shouted. “You’re right there!”
Nilhin couldn’t kill it -- her. She did this for him. He felt warmth, he felt love, he missed having someone there for him. He was just fourteen, he wasn’t really a man no matter what people said. He didn’t want to kill her, he-- one of the disciples ran forward, the squirrel jumped, knocking Ogar’s corpse to the ground. The pieces of it, mostly attacked by dried sinew and husk, fell apart, his jerky-covered skull rolling along the ground.
Kveda jumped to his feet and tried to swing at the squirrel, but she was too quick for his broad strokes. Nilhin got to his feet and stood near the tent, content to let them fight until they tired himself out. They continued to try and catch the squirrel beast, but despite its large size, it was very agile and could jump very high.
“Why aren’t you trying to get revenge?” Kveda asked. “He was your captain too!”
Nilhin huffed. Why wasn’t he trying to get revenge? Because he hated Ogar, and he hated Kveda too. He wished that the squirrel beast would do to Kveda what she did to Ogar, because it would save him a lot of problems. A sword was aimed by Kveda, angry, and the man released a cry of anger, but the sword wasn’t aimed for the squirrel, it was aimed at Nilhin. Nilhin wouldn’t have made it. He would have been speared in the chest, but the squirrel beast had jumped in front of the blade, her body pierced as she dangled from it.
With the flick of his hands, the squirrel beast hit the ground, the chasm left behind in her chest worsening as her blood spilled onto the mulchy ground. Nilhin collapsed beside her, holding his hands over her chest. He didn’t care what they said, or what they told people, but this poor creature. He looked up at them, and their lowered swords came back up.
“Why did you do that?” Nilhin asked, his voice calm in spite of the circumstance.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Kveda asked. “She killed Ogar and you’re crying for her?”
“Ogar deserved it,” Nilhin said, still calm. He sat back, his hands stained with the squirrel beast’s blood. He rolled his shoulders, and his hair brushed across his neck.
“What did you say?” Kveda demanded.
“I said: Ogar deserved it,” Nilhin repeated. “And so do you, and everyone else in this disgusting subunit.”
“We should just kill you,” Kveda said. “Nobody would question if you died on a wild hunt.”
“Do it,” Nilhin said. He stood up. Power flowed through his veins, heady and strong, unlike anything he had felt before. He felt so strong, like he could move the entire world if he so willed it. His breath shuddered because even that was an overwhelming sensation. Not a single sense was left free from the burden of overwhelming electricity in the best way possible. He could easily be a celestial, he reckoned, and it must have been from the squirrel beast. He looked up at them all. “Do it,” he repeated, quieter but no less bold, “I dare you to try.”
A moment of silence passed.
“What is wrong with you?” Kveda asked with a scoff. Nilhin ran forward, towards the sword aimed at him, and caught it between his nails. He snapped the blade right in half. The disciples around them whimpered.
“What’s wrong with me?” Nilhin asked himself aloud. He threw the blade at the ground, and with one pull, snatched the rest of the claymore from Kveda’s hands. “I’ve endured months of suffering at your hands, and you ask me what’s wrong?” Nilhin reached out, and grabbed Kveda. The man was so light, and Nilhin easily picked his entire body off the ground. He enjoyed his squirming, his struggling beneath his hands. Kveda tried to pry his fingers loose, tried to get him to loosen his grip in even the slightest way, but there was no way he would let that happen. Nobody dared to intervene either. What a group of courageous disciples they were.
“You will leave me alone from now on,” he demanded, “All of you.” He looked around at the others. They nodded their assent without any sort of prying or pushing. He nodded and then he threw Kveda to the ground with all his strength. Kveda’s body crumbled against the earth.
“It looks like the squirrel beast got to you, doesn’t it?” Nilhin asked, a faux sympathy in his voice. “Someone better heal that before it’s permanent.” Nilhin picked up the body of the squirrel beast and walked away from the campsite. Nobody followed after him, and with his claws, Nilhin buried a large hole at the base of the tree that the squirrel beast had run up when she fetched him chestnuts, and he put her inside. He closed the hole and carved into the bark on the tree. He didn’t know what name to give her, so he just put ‘LADY’ before he went to rinse the dirt from his hands. It was strange, that despite digging a massive hole, and carving into the bark of an ancient tree, his nails were still sharp and unbroken.
In the morning, Kveda, who grunted and groaned with every movement, carried the skeletal corpse of Ogar back with them to Hvit Fortress. It was a two day journey, but when they returned they were received by a group of generals, including Gronjas. There were a total of five generals in attendance, but the clan leader, Hvit Forin, remained away on his own personal wild hunt of a major beast in the mountains.
“Where’s your captain?” one of the generals asked.
“He perished,” Kveda said. He set the bones down. “This is all that is left of him.”
“This looks far too complicated of an attack for a squirrel beast,” another general said.
“They wouldn’t have survived whatever caused this, so it must have been the squirrel beast,” the first general said. The others nodded, except Gronjas, who tilted his head as he observed the bones.
“Did anyone see the attack?” Gronjas asked.
“Nilhin was right with him when it happened,” one of the disciples said. Nilhin lowered his head.
“Unfortunately, my eyes were closed. I didn’t see what happened. The squirrel beast attacked in the dead of night,” Nilhin explained. Gronjas nodded, but continued to look at Nilhin. Nilhin grew self conscious about such attention, and quickly looked away.
“Where’s the beast’s body?” another general asked.
“I buried it,” Nilhin said.
“You buried the body of a beast?” the general asked. “Why would you do that?”
“Because she--” Nilhin began, but he cut himself off. He didn’t know how to explain it to them. They wouldn’t understand.
“It may have been a beast, but it was still a living creature, Hamla. It deserves a burial just as much as anything else,” Gronjas said. The general who spoke, Hamla, rolled his eyes, but Gronjas just smiled as Nilhin. “You did a good job, Nilhin. Why don’t all of you go and rest. We’ll take Ogar’s corpse to be examined, just in case it was something else that killed him.”
They all nodded, and they started to leave. Before Nilhin could walk away, Gronjas caught him by the shoulder, the other generals discussing things behind him. Nilhin stopped to stay beside Gronjas.
“How was your first wild hunt?” Gronjas asked.
“It was… a new experience,” Nilhin admitted. Gronjas smiled, and patted his shoulder.
“Good. I’m glad it was enjoyable then,” Gronjas said. Nilhin didn’t bother to correct the man. “Your success will be celebrated as soon as the clan leader returns from his own hunt. You did good work, Nilhin. I’ll see you then, and hopefully I’ll have more answers about what happened to your brother.” Nilhin glanced at the bag of bones and leathery flesh -- all that remained of Ogar -- and with a small smile he nodded.
“Thank you Gronjas for being so thorough. I swear it was really the squirrel beast, but I trust your judgement more than my own on these matters. I’ll see you at the banquet.”
Nilhin left, and Gronjas returned to the other generals. Nilhin was afforded a proper bath, and he brushed his teeth multiple times before he headed to the library, the only place he could think of going in order to properly research what happened. If squirrel beasts couldn’t do to Ogar what happened to him, then what did?
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