FWOOSHH!
The Otherworld Retail Department returned to Earth.
Lex, its newly appointed CEO, lay keeled over on the floor.
He would have loved to get up.
Unfortunately, there was one homeless factor stopping him.
"Herman."
"Augh... my back."
"Herman, get off me."
"Is this the employee welfare everyone raves about?"
"Get. Off."
"Fine!"
Herman rolled away from him, his bones cracking as he untangled his legs from Lex's. He had lost his footing during the final moments of the transfer, and because he had been holding onto Lex at the time, they had both gone down together.
Lex pushed himself onto his hands and knees.
His shoulder throbbed where it had struck the floor, while Herman lay beside him groaning as though he had been the victim.
Eventually, Herman hauled himself upright using the wall.
"Couldn't you make that a bit smoother, robot?"
Lex climbed to his feet and straightened his twisted shirt.
"You were the issue."
[ Employee Herman Staul may pilot the store through interdimensional space during our next journey. ]
Herman waved the voice away.
"If Lex wasn't in my way, I wouldn't have fallen."
Lex stared at him.
"You were holding onto me."
"That's beside the point."
The metal door unlocked with a heavy click.
As they stepped into the warehouse, Lex immediately noticed the difference.
The warm forest air was gone. Thin grey morning light leaked through the empty window frames, accompanied by the distant sound of cars passing along the wet road outside. The smell of leaves and woodsmoke had been replaced by damp concrete and the faint remains of stale beer.
They were home.
Herman continued through the shop without stopping.
"Where are you going?" Lex asked.
"Squatter things."
Herman reached the front entrance before glancing back.
"Need to check whether everything I left is still where I left it."
Lex couldn't find fault in that logic.
"Fair. Be back by four. I'll grab some products from Joe's Wholesalers after university, so make sure you're here."
Herman raised one hand in acknowledgement and stepped outside.
"And don't come back drunk!" Lex yelled after him.
Herman kept walking.
***
(Vargis' POV)
Two hours after leaving Guram Keep, Vargis was beginning to question his decision to let Wraith choose their porter.
A skeleton followed them through the forest.
Green flames flickered within the dark voids of its eye sockets, while strips of pale-green mana held its yellowed bones together where muscle and sinew should have been.
A large pack had been tied across its back, filled with beast materials and gold the tribe hoped to exchange with the human merchants.
Every few steps, its bones rattled.
Vargis glanced over his shoulder for what must have been the tenth time.
The skeleton responded with the same soulless gaze.
"You know," he said, "when I suggested bringing someone to carry the wares, I meant another scout. Pittek or someone."
Wraith stepped over a root without breaking stride.
"Scouts require food, rest and encouragement. Their poor stamina would only slow us down."
"At least they'd have flesh."
Wraith shook his head.
"An unnecessary luxury a porter is better without."
The old goblin no longer resembled the courtly adviser who had stood before Chief Guram.
Within the keep, Wraith maintained his etiquette. His robes were kept neat and his words carefully measured. Even his simplest advice on magic sounded scholarly and sage-like.
Out here?
His dark robe had been hitched above his ankles to keep it out of the mud. His crooked staff rested across one shoulder, and he had spent much of the journey complaining about his knees.
Vargis looked back at the skeleton again, making it eleven times.
"Where did you get his bones?"
Wraith glanced sideways at him. His green eyes appeared to glow beneath his hood.
"Do you truly wish to know?"
Vargis faced forward.
"I'd... rather not, now that I've thought about it."
"Then today has already taught you wisdom."
Morning light filtered through the canopy in cool streams. The ancient trees surrounding them seemed endless, their roots weaving a tapestry across the ground before disappearing beneath thick layers of moss.
The air was warm and damp. Insects buzzed between the leaves, while unseen creatures sang their tunes to one another from high above.
There was no such thing as a 'path' in Durim.
Only someone familiar with the forest would have recognised the broken twigs, disturbed moss and shallow impressions left behind by countless patrols.
To Vargis, this forest was his back garden.
And he was a very diligent gardener.
He knew every bend, exposed root and upturned stone in this part of the forest.
Or at least, he assumed he did.
"You're different in front of the chief," Vargis said.
Wraith sighed.
"Aren't we all? Chief Guram appreciates the ceremonies of nobility."
"Isn't that odd for goblins? None of the other tribes bother with it."
Wraith raised one finger and wagged it at him.
"And how many of those tribes have survived for five generations?"
"Their methods seem to produce more powerful warriors."
"Their methods are ephemeral. They burn like a bright flame, forcing their warriors beyond their limits until that same flame consumes them."
Vargis stretched out his arms as he walked.
"Those warriors still win battles."
"And leave their children to lose the next one."
Wraith used the end of his staff to move a thorn-covered branch out of his way.
"What if your father had been too busy fighting to raise you? What if he had died before passing on what he knew? Where would the tribe be without a true Head Scout?"
Vargis lowered his arms.
He didn't have an answer.
"Other tribes raise warriors," Wraith continued. "And corpses waiting to enter the grasp of my magic."
A thin smile appeared beneath his hood.
"Guram raises generations. A dynasty."
Vargis continued along the trail with a new thought to consider.
This was why he enjoyed spending time with Wraith.
The old necromancer had known him since he was young. Before Vargis had earned his position, and before he had been allowed beyond the keep without his father following three steps behind him, Wraith had taught him which creatures to avoid and how to detect mana despite not being a mage.
He had also taught Vargis which corpses were most valuable to him.
That lesson had included far more practical demonstrations than Vargis would have preferred.
Farkas had taught him how to become a scout.
Wraith had taught him how to recognise when fighting would get him killed.
A Head Scout needed to be bold and decisive, but more importantly, he needed to know when to retreat and report a danger beyond his station.
A dead scout carried no warnings home.
Wraith suddenly stopped.
His hand rose, palm clenched.
Vargis stopped before taking another step.
The skeleton froze behind them, its jaw hanging slightly open beneath the weight of the pack.
Wraith turned towards the centre of the forest. The casual expression vanished from his face as green mana ignited within his eyes.
Vargis knew better than to disturb him when he asked for silence.
His hand moved towards the hilt of his sword.
He lowered himself into a crouch and studied the ground immediately surrounding them.
The moss ahead remained undisturbed. No fresh tracks pressed into the damp soil, nor were there any broken stems suggesting something large had passed through recently.
Vargis placed two fingers against the ground.
The earth was cool beneath the moss. He felt no vibration from approaching footsteps.
He slowly turned his head and listened.
The insects continued buzzing. Birds called from the canopy, unconcerned by their presence. Somewhere far to their left, a small creature scrambled through a pile of leaves before disappearing beneath a root.
Nothing had fallen silent.
That ruled out most nearby predators.
Vargis circled back towards Wraith, keeping his shoulders low and ears tense.
The skeleton's dumb skull turned to follow him.
"Stop that," Vargis whispered.
Its head returned to face forward.
He wasn't sure whether it had obeyed him or whether Wraith had made it stop.
He returned to the old goblin's side.
"There's nothing nearby."
"I know."
Vargis frowned, having done all that work for naught.
"Then why did you stop us?"
"Because I was listening to the forest's mana."
Wraith lowered the end of his bony staff onto the ground.
A ring of pale-green mana spread from it, travelling through the moss in thin strands. The light crawled between the roots, stones and branches before stretching to the centre of the forest.
Wraith closed his eyes.
The green flames inside the skeleton's sockets weakened, as though the intent controlling was needed elsewhere.
Yesterday, even back in the Guram keep, he could sense the mana as clear as day. It was ever-present, the will controlling the barrier was constant, probing anything that got near.
He didn't even dare use his magic to investigate, in order to not offend the caster.
But the closer he got, the more he noticed.
"It's different."
"The store?"
"The will inside of it."
Wraith lifted his staff. The pale green strands of mana receded like an elastic band, disappearing beneath his robes.
The skeleton's eyes were filled with life once more.
"Up till now the store has radiated a presence. Whoever controlled the barrier watched everything in its perimeter like a hawk."
"You neglected to mention that when you sent me off to investigate."
Wraith shrugged, "I couldn't tell what it was, its structure is too intricate to analyse from such a distance. I did say it might be dangerous."
Vargis scoffed.
"Like every other job I'm given."
He continued.
"So what's changed?"
Wraith continued their journey.
"It's vacant. Like no one is in."
"They've left?"
"Perhaps."
Vargis thought with narrowed eyes.
"Or maybe... they've fled?"
Wraith's answer came without hesitation.
"That is what concerns me."
They continued their walk with caution.
No words were needed to convey that their journey was now going to require more scrutiny.
This is likely why Guram only sent the two of them.
Their experience was needed more than numbers.
If the humans had fled, then something must've been the culprit, and anything capable of that was worth noticing.
A breeze passed from the east.
His ears twitched.
Besides the damp earth and flowering moss, there was a new scent. Wet fur, and the a faint metallic scent.
Could be blood, could be steel.
Either way, something was nearby.
Four deep cuts formed an open eye within the bark, the fourth boundary marker for the Guram tribe. Fresh claw marks, dragged directly across it.
Not enough to destroy it's form.
But just enough to show it had been acknowledged.
Whoever had been here had attempted to cover their tracks.
Vargis' frown deepened
"I sense the presence of wet dogs."
"How many?" Wraith asks.
"Six."
Vargis rose. The low mohawk running across his scalp bristled as he investigated the trees. Several gold rings cascading in size caught the morning light.
"They've spread around us."
Wraith's shaded expression darkened.
The skeleton removed the pack from its back and placed it by a stump.
Vargis drew his dark-green twin sabres, their edges curved at their tips.
Wraith struck his bony staff against the Earth.
Dark green mana exploded out of his body.
"To the six dogs hiding in the Guram foliage," He called. "Come out, or I'll have the dead eat what remains of you."
Two figures stepped into view.
They were twins.
The female was lithe, with ashy-grey fur creeping along her arms and jaw. Daggers rested on her hips, her hands wrapped around the hilts like a viper ready to pounce.
Her brother was broader. A large greatsword strapped to his back, while a dark pelt had been thrown over his back.
Their fur patterned in dots and archs, their foreheads bore two moons on crescent, one full.
Wraith hollow voice called out.
"Moontrail."
Their amber eyes and wolfish grins widened at the acknowledgement.
"He's charming." the female said.
"I like him," her brother replied.
She rolled her eyes.
"You like anyone who threatens you."
"Only when they mean it."
The brother's grin was so wide saliva dripped off of his canine fangs.
"Oh," Wraith's dark mana swirled in a vortex, "I certainly do."