Deviant Mage Pt 07 Bridgefort

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

From astride his ashen mare, the macabre-armoured warrior looked down- agog and disgusted- at the large pile of manure below him. He regretted having taken the breath necessary to shout. Gods, what a stink!

The heat of his glare was directed at the taller of the two naked, shit-covered, piss-dripping (he'd shown up while two people

urinated

on them, and they'd

both

enjoyed

it!) young women that were half-buried in crap. That woman's legs were still intertwined with the short skinny girl's, from how they'd been conducting some kind of sex act in a pile of foulest smelling Gods-damned excrement Zake had ever had the displeasure of having to be near!

One more thing to add to the long and ever-growing list of things that he would never be able to unsee...

All the men that had been watching (and participating in!) this sick display, who he presumed had been both intoxicated and distracted, hadn't noticed Zake's approach until he'd been practically on top of them. The scrawny girl- who

Stench

had somehow convinced to

fornicate with her in a pile of shit before a fucking audience!-

froze like a cornered rat. But the disgusting, deranged slut that had once been Zake's best friend just looked up at him, unimpressed and vaguely annoyed. (All while the man who'd just been pissing on her tried to take off at a dead sprint, realized his pants were around his ankles, tripped, and awkwardly scrambled away.) She made eye contact with Zake as brown-tinted urine dripped from her chin. At Zake's outburst, her only reaction had been an amused twitch of her lips.

She disentangled herself from the smaller woman, all while she maintained eye contact with him. There was not a single hint of shame in her expression. The smell coming from the pile of muck, already so potent that Zake could

taste

it, somehow managed to intensify to a level that made Zake's eyes start to water, made his nose feel like it ought to shut down out of self-preservation, but it couldn't. The lantern flames around them developed a slight blueness around the edges, which gave this whole scene a faintly greenish cast.

"'Muurg the Unrepentant'. We meet again" she said mockingly. Manure was literally dripping from her in clumpy, viscous glops, and one of her breasts was peeking out through the ragged remains of her top. He didn't want to see this, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. It was just because he suspected how dangerous she was. It

wasn't

because any part of him enjoyed the sight.

Dark Gods and light; was she

actually

working to deliberately corrupt the people of Lanovale with her depraved behavior?

(While Zake glowered at her, the scrawny girl behind Stench reached for her dagger. Without turning to look, Stench hissed 'no' to her. The scrawny girl reluctantly obeyed.)

"What are you doing here, Lyran?" Zake asked in a forcibly level voice.

"What's it look like I was doing, dumbass?"

"You are in no position to give me attitude! You need to come with me. Now!"

"No, and go fuck yourself, asshole."

The pile of shit she stood in suddenly writhed, and formed into a series of spikes. Spikes that climbed on top of one another, forming themselves around Stench like the spiky petals of a giant, very dangerous flower made of manure. She stood at the center of that arrangement, and her grin was ugly. "You might have a sword and a horse, skull-boy, but I'm a shit-witch with two tons of shit to play with! You're not the scary one here! I'm staying right here, and fuck you!"

Okay. This was exactly why Zake hadn't actually

wanted

to run into her.

"Why the fuck are

you

here?!" she shouted up at Zake. "Are you with the Lanovins?! Have you crawled back to Daddy after all!?"

"What?! No! Fuck you!" Stench's display had startled Thunderhead, but entirely too many hours of training at least meant she didn't bolt. The dapple-gray mare, however, was seriously spooked and had started to shuffle away from Stench, wickering nervously.

He noted that Stench wasn't actually doing anything to stop his horse as she backed away.

"Then why are you here?!" Stench demanded.

"Great question! I regret finding you! This is un-fucking-believable! I just... I can't-" he trailed off, at a loss for words.

"Believe it, skull-boy!" Her shit-tentacles flexed. Thunderhead twitched. Ket bristled. Zake flinched slightly. "Give me a good reason why I shouldn't squash you inside those fucking black buckets you're wearing,

right now!

"

The initial shock of finding her here had faded, and Zake's analytical side had quickly come to a conclusion. Stench was trying to intimidate him, when apparently she could have destroyed him as soon as he'd turned up. She didn't actually want to harm him, did she?

Whether deliberately or not, she was giving him a chance to escape.

He was almost too proud to take that chance.

Almost.

To Ket, in a softest commanding tone he could manage, he said: "Freeze". As he said it, he gave the faintest tug of a reign in the direction Thunderhead clearly already wanted to bolt, and he flattened himself down on the mare's neck as she took off. She galloped down the well-beaten, sparsely-lit path they'd come up, and he held on for dear life.

Nothing stopped them.

(When Zake took off, Stench didn't even notice that her filthy rags had stiffened just a little. Between how scanty they were and how a lot of their fibers were already half-rotten, the skull-spider's second-hand powers didn't have much to work with.)

Zake tugged at the reigns. Currently, his direction to

slow the fuck down

was mostly a hopeful suggestion. Thankfully, with the threat not following her, Thunderhead eventually became willing to heed Zake, and they did indeed slow. Nothing disastrous, like tripping on a root or stepping in a hole, had happened. The horse was still in a hurry to get away, though. Zake didn't blame her.

Stench wasn't chasing him. Either she couldn't catch him, or she'd let him get away. Zake wasn't sure which.

What had been a thriving party, only minutes ago, was now eerily still and empty. Scattered detritus littered the forest floor. When Zake had first shown up, a flutist had used their instrument to call some kind of alarm, and a bunch of the party-goers had known what that signal meant. They had encouraged the other guests to flee into the woods. The only ones who hadn't fled were the ones that were distracted by the depraved spectacle of Stench doing... that.

Now that he knew more about the nature of the supernatural bullshit going on with Stench- that she was a

mage-

, it was quite clear to him that this was a trap. He'd sprung it early.

Theoretically, he could alert the approaching hunters to what they were about to walk into, and what the filthy lunatic they were after

really

was. A part of him was sorely tempted. Except, he knew who those huntsmen were. Various members of House Laneskew (a family he was

quite

familiar with, and not for any good reasons) and the brutal overseers of the Laneskews' 'troublesome' serfs, all of them under the command of his father. Zake was

not

helping those people. Fuck them, in fact.

Although, it felt like leaving

Stench

to do as she pleased was a sin all its own!

Zake's pet theory had been that his cousin had stumbled upon some supernatural remnant of the Lanovins' sordid family history, but oh, no, that made too much sense! She was a mage. With powers over

shit,

apparently. Somehow, this stupid world had found a way to get even more ridiculous.

Zake was more familiar with mages than he liked. Ket wore a dead mage's skull and commanded the ghost of that mage's power. Since Ket listened to Zake's commands, that made Zake a 'supernaturally empowered specialist' himself. He'd fought alongside one mage a couple times, and another time he'd fought against an enemy mage-for-hire. He still had nightmares about it.

It often seemed like destiny found any excuse it could to put dangerous supernatural powers in the hands of random lunatics. Mages were the ones without any obvious excuse; their magic was supposedly innate to them (though there were scholars who insisted that the power was 'unlocked' somehow). There were maybe a hundred in all of Thare. Other than the innate-ness, they didn't share much, but one re-occurring element was that their powers were always

appropriate

to them as people.

This was the first instance of a noble-born mage that Zake had ever heard of. And also the first instance he'd heard of where a mage's powers had been shaped by them being a

sexual deviant

!

As a mage, if

Stench

was remotely competent and had prepared adequately (he reluctantly had to admit that it looked like she had), then a mob of murderous fuckwads without any special weapons, preparation or training was unlikely to win against her. And what would happen if

Stench

triumphed? Zake didn't know, but he was pretty sure he knew what to expect: Lanovale was probably about to turn into a giant bloody clusterfuck.

A clusterfuck that Zake had

no

intention of getting further involved in!

Captain Tamaerin had ordered him to find out what he could about Stench? Well, job done! He had all the information he needed, and then some. Now that he knew what he knew, he was getting

out

of Lanovale! He didn't know who was meant to read the report he was writing, but he had his suspicions, and thought it likely that they would arrange for Stench to be

dealt with,

using proper resources, after reading it!

He had thought there was still a chance that he might be able to save Lyran from herself. Clearly, he'd been too optimistic.

He emerged from the treeline, into the darkness of a moonless night. He dismounted, so that he could lead his horse along the hillside's uncertain footing. He could see the lights of fifty-odd people heading this way. Particularly, he could see the lanterns that several horsemen had hanging behind their spearheads. They were still a ways downhill. Zake, meanwhile, had no lights. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, as did Thunderhead's. Slowly, quietly, the dark rider and the ashen horse skirted the tree-line, avoiding silhouetting themselves.

They made it far enough without being seen that Zake felt comfortable leading Thunderhead to a road. No one had seen them. He re-mounted.

Still fuming, Zake made his best speed back to Upper Lanovul, for the final time.

***

Apega pulled the oversized coat on over her utterly shit-covered form. This wound up being somewhat more difficult than she had expected. Her hands were slippery and her body was sticky, so the reeking, crusty fabric of her borrowed coat stuck to her mucky skin as she attempted to push her arms through the sleeves. It strained the repairs, though the sloppy-looking patchwork was stronger than it looked.

She kept glancing over her shoulder at Stench, who was slumped in the pile of filth. She had a distant look. Like she was quietly having some kind of mental breakdown.

When that swordsman had shown up, it almost hadn't registered that he had called Stench 'Lyran'.

Almost.

Though that name wasn't particularly rare, Apega had heard some very interesting rumours about one particular 'Lyran'.

Apega finished pulling the coat on. She then started back towards the clearing, her footsteps barely wary at all. Probably, she should be afraid. She wasn't.

Stench abruptly turned to look Apega's way, even though she hadn't made a single sound, and was still hidden in the shadows. That was a little unsettling, but her steps didn't falter.

"'Lyran', huh?" she said, as soon as she emerged from the bushes.

Stench grimaced. "People used to call me that, sure. And that was Orizakie Lanovin." She gestured vaguely downhill.

"I dunno who that is. But I know who Lyran is."

"

Was

" Stench said. The filth-dripping witch was trying to look confident, but it was a mask. She was having trouble meeting Apega's gaze.

When Apega had seen Stench's display of power, it had been like witnessing a miracle, and it had left her awe-struck. Then she'd learned (or at least strongly suspected) the crazy slut was a runaway lordling, and that had only impressed her more. Now, in seeing Stench as uncertain and anxious, the awe was gone. Apega had had an idea. Now she wondered if it was actually a good idea.

It was still her best option.

"I want in."

Stench blinked. "Uh, what? In? In what?"

"You're up to somethin' big, ain'tcha? I wanna join."

Stench stared at her for a moment, confused. "There's nothing to join!"

"Blith's part of it."

"Dammit, there's no 'it'! He's just a friend I got to help me out!"

"You sayin' you don't want

my

help?"

Stench opened her mouth to object further, but hesitated. She frowned. "Aren't you already part of the Hands?"

"Fuck 'em."

Stench's frown deepened and grew more suspicious. "Did the Hoolheiths put you up to this?"

Apega glared back at Stench. "No! Fuck those guys!"

"That's just what you'd say if this was some kind of trick."

Apega snorted with dark laughter at the very idea of

her

ever being involved in subterfuge. "It's not. I swear it."

"I don't

believe

you."

Apega really wished she was decent at lying. She just had to hope the truth was enough that Stench would give her a chance. "I pissed off Ithelmas today. Real hard."

Stench stared at Apega for a moment, looking completely nonplussed.

"What, you don't know who that is? What kind of rock you been livin' under?"

"Castle Lan!"

"Oh." Apega processed that for a moment. "Right. Okay. He's head of the Hoolheith family. You know who

they

are, right?"

Stench rolled her eyes down to the Underworld. "I have some familiarity with them, yes."

"I failed the fat bastard today. Gave him some guff, too. He tried to have me punished for it, I didn't let him. Guess I kinda threatened him a little too. So if you won't have me, I either gotta try leavin' Lanovale with no supplies and winter comin', or stay here until he catches me and does whatever he likes. Could just throw me'self in the Lan too, I guess. Don't really wanna do any of that. You get me?" Her tone was hard. It came from trying her best to

not

to sound like she was pleading.

Stench stared at her for a moment, considering that, looking very uncertain. Then she sighed. "I'm not saying 'no', but this isn't the time or place to discuss this."

"Agreed. Later?"

"If there

is

a later..." Stench muttered. "Right. Everything I spent the last three weeks working at might have just gone tits-up because of skull-boy down there, and I'm about to try making it work anyway."

Apega shrugged. "Should'a killed him when you had the chance."

"The thought had crossed my mind..." Stench muttered darkly, massaging her mucky forehead. "So, besides being an incredible lay, what are you good at?"

Despite everything, Apega felt a little pleased at hearing that (and dammit, she felt herself blush a bit too). "Uh... mostly I just kill people? I'm pretty good at not gettin' killed back. So far."

"Killing people. Right..." Stench didn't exactly sound impressed. She thought for a moment. "Okay. I guess I can work with that. Now, how good would you say you are at faking an orgasm?"

"...what?"

Stench started to explain her plan, such as it was. The arrival of 'Zake' hadn't really changed anything, except now she felt she needed to make herself into even more tempting bait. She'd had an idea for how to do that, and Apega was going to help.

She also hadn't for a moment considered that she might have the aid of a fairly skilled murderess tonight, and had only a vague idea of how to best utilize that particular skill-set. Apega had mixed feelings about that.

"If we get separated, meet me under Rotten Bridge. If I'm not there by sunrise, assume I fucked everything up and died. This is going to be a mess."

"Guess that's your thing."

"Fuck yeah, it is." Stench's wicked smile and dangerous tone seemed completely genuine. Apega was pretty sure she was screaming behind them.

Still better than her last leader.

The mucky blonde murderess started going through her stuff. Despite how she'd rolled enthusiastically around in shit while wearing her dagger belt, very little crap had gotten into her pouches, and she hadn't lost anything. She had her big double-edged dagger, now with a few fresh dings and notches that she hadn't had a chance to sharpen out yet. She had that stiletto, no longer hidden in her hair; it was now rattling around in her lost dagger's sheath, secured rather crudely with twine and a couple slip-knots. She had two sets of bronze knuckles, one had iron spikes. She also had a pouch full of sling bullets that were completely useless to her right now. Even if she'd had an intact sling, that weapon wasn't much use at night.

Stench didn't actually

want

Apega to use any of these weapons unless she absolutely had to. Apega appreciated her restraint. Except... there was that horrible part of her that knew violence was coming, and felt excited at the prospect. She was almost glad that she was so tired, and that bloodthirstiness didn't have much enthusiasm behind it.

She was about to partake in a full-on battle, all while still covered completely in

feces

. That would be a first. She was probably a dead woman if she got

any

open wounds. And yet... something about that weirdly thrilled her.

Gods, she was insane...

While Apega checked through her stuff, Stench got that faraway look again, and the pile of crap behind her started to twitch.

***

The hunting party, led by Osreval Lanovin himself, entered the woods. Their way was illuminated by many cheap oil lanterns that hung from tree branches. Despite the lights, the forest was eerily quiet and still.

The hunters were here to

put down

any of the worthless, now irrecoverably-corrupted wretches they encountered, though eliminating

Stench

remained the priority. From what they'd been told, the depraved madwoman had shown up here and bragged ridiculous lies to all who had attended. Many of the party-goers had refused to stay in her company once she'd shown up, yet a fair number of them had chosen to remain. A quick death was too good for any of them.

But now that judgment had come for those damned souls, none of them remained.

Cautiously, silently, the hunting party advanced uphill. They brandished weapons that itched to be used, and there was no one to use them on. Though, as they picked their way up the rocky forested mountainside, it soon became clear that Cupper's Nook hadn't been

completely

deserted. Loud delighted moans, laughter, and revolting squishing sounds could be heard uphill from them, in the direction of a bonfire that still blazed away like a beacon. There was a vile stench in the air, of dung and something more, that thickened the further uphill they went.

Osreval Lanovin led this group, his footsteps silent in his soft-soled hunter's boots, a pair of his hunting dogs at his heels. That inept young Lanovin man (so many people called him 'Umtions' that many of the hunting party thought that was his

actual

name) had been commanded to 'secure their flank'. Everyone (very much including Umtieone) knew that was mostly meant to keep the inept idiot out of the way while the professionals did their job. The lordling had attempted to argue with Osreval over that particular decision. Osreval had not been in the mood for an argument. Umtieone now stayed behind, minding Osreval's horse, sulking.

One of the hunting party, an overseer who worked for the Laneskews, cautiously approached the Master Huntsman of Lanovale.