A Dance with Death

Join Adriaan, a backwater Modlander, as he guides a Council Representative and her Hunter escort through the bog outside Hellebosch. Dictated in 61 AS.

 

We set off early, a late winter chill clinging to us. All eight of us were given talisman pouches by the priests, intended to gain the favour of the Dancers and ward off the attention of the Boglings. Guests, at least those from outside Modland, sometimes scoff at this practice, believing the Dancers to be nothing more than mist. However, the interpreter Heike, a Modlander themself, gladly accepted, and eagerly translated the explanation into Deltastrait. And, once they understood what was happening, Council representative Olive and the five Hunters, although Fenblithian, were courteous and grateful. Though, not so much as to forgo the armour, muskets, bayonets, daggers, and sabres the Hunters wore and carried, of course.

 

As we walked towards the bog, the Hunters created a formation. Temple, the squad’s leader, made Olive, Heike, and me walk close together. He then positioned his Siblings. Victoria and Flora were placed to our right, Victoria alongside us, Flora more to the rear. Philani and Lettice were then instructed to mirror these positions, with Philani up front and Lettice behind. Temple himself went ahead, instructing me – through Heike – to warn him if he was about to make a wrong step. To this end, Heike told me to use specific words for ‘right’, ‘left’, ‘stop’, and above all ‘Beast’, so that Temple could recognise these words in Modlands and skip any delay caused by translation when he was about to walk into danger.

 

With this resolved, we picked up the pace, making good time towards the bog. The Hunters were razor sharp, their eyes constantly flitting around, their ears constantly pricking, and yet they seemed relaxed, and even made smalltalk. Moreover, they did so in Deltastrait, allowing Heike to understand them and translate for me. Listening to them speak so effortlessly in our regions’ shared form of Tradespeak made me self-conscious about Hellebosch being such a backwater that we had needed an interpreter, but the Hunters never gave the impression of minding the hassle.

 

Once, though, they did revert to Iseronian. There was a sound in the trees, and Victoria stopped mid-sentence, audibly switched languages, and alerted Temple. He gave a few quick words, and Victoria and Flora levelled their muskets as Philani and Lettice pointedly looked the other way, preventing a surprise attack. I glanced at Heike, for the first time as lost as I was, and saw fear. Then I glanced at Olive, and saw her looking calmly where Victoria and Flora aimed, and I realised that even if there was a threat, she evidently believed the Hunters more than capable of eliminating it. That soothed me.

 

No attack came, however, and we went on, Victoria casually finishing her thought from before in Deltastrait again.

 

Conversation stilled when we reached the bog, though. Temple needed no instruction to stop walking, whistling at the sight.

 

The Dancers were in full attendance, covering the bog in spectral whirls lit by the still low winter sun. I grasped my talisman pouch and prayed, Heike following suit, Olive and the Hunters waiting in polite silence.

 

When Heike and I were done, we began picking our way through the bog. It was tough going. I am of course familiar with how to move through the terrain – the priests wouldn’t have picked me as the guide otherwise. But Hunters, it turns out, are rather heavy, what with them being so tall and broad from years of hard training and good eating, as well as being covered in weapons and armour. Pathways that would usually support a full-grown adult turned suddenly treacherous before my eyes as I imagined being as heavy as Temple, who was still stolidly walking at the front of our group. It became quite the feat to steer him away from a floundering fall into the wet, especially with Olive having Heike ask me countless questions about the land as we went, so as to inform the Council of Fenblith as properly as possible for their decision on whether or not to help Hellebosch mine the bog.

 

I managed well enough, but as our formation dissolved into an unsteady line of carefully picked steps, I began to wonder why the Dancers were not helping me more. Their instructions have never been clear, mind. But their dancing, if you’re attuned to it, draws your attention to things you wouldn’t usually notice, allowing you to avoid danger. This time, that didn’t happen, and I was forced to navigate the bog unaided as I continued to answer Olive’s questions.

 

That, perhaps, is why I did not see the Bogling coming.

 

They are foul creatures, antithesis to the grace of the Dancers. Warped from the remains of those who lost their lives in the bog – either because they refused to heed the Dancers or did not know how to understand them –, Boglings are hunched and pallid, with waterlogged paunches and toadlike limbs. Their skin seems swollen, as if the bog has gotten between it and the flesh underneath, and their fingers wriggle, boneless and malicious; they are transformed to be like leeches, complete with small, ring-shaped mouths at their tips, set with grasping teeth.

 

The Bogling lurched suddenly out of the water, right next to Temple, its mucked-up arm grasping for his leg to pull him in. I opened my mouth to yell ‘Beast’, but the Hunter didn’t need me.

 

With blurring speed, Temple’s gunstock swung down in an arc, swatting the Bogling’s arm away. He aimed the musket with cool precision and fired a single shot, blasting into the Beast’s head. It flopped backwards, submerging in a splash of water before bobbing back to the surface, a black crater in place of its ruined face.

 

I let out the breath I had sucked in to warn Temple as a sigh, utterly amazed at his speed. He began reloading, casting a casual glance across his shoulder as he did.

 

His eyes widened, swiftly followed by a command in Iseronian. I spun around just in time to see Flora and Lettice step out of the reach of two more Boglings. As their squad leader had done, the Hunters leveled their muskets and shot the Beasts into the water, but before they could even begin reloading, more Boglings began emerging.

 

They were all around.

 

The Hunters called out to each other as they formed up, forcing Olive, Heike, and me close together. They encircled us, using their bodies to shield us from the sudden onslaught as they partially sank through the pathway’s edges. While Philani and Victoria fired their muskets, Temple, Flora, and Lettice pulled their bayonets from their belts and fixed them to their guns. Philani and Victoria barely had time to follow suit before the first Boglings pressed in.

 

It was a horde, there’s no other word for it. They were everywhere, falling across each other, splashing through the water, clambering onto the land. Never have I seen anything like it, never have I heard of anyone who did, and never do I hope to do so again.

 

The Hunters wielded their muskets like spears and took an ichor-soaked tally, doling out thrust after deadly thrust. The Boglings fell in droves, but they kept crowding closer, until it was becoming hard to pull back for the next thrust. While the Hunters continued to exchange growled words, no doubt cursing at the bog sucking at their feet as they fought to maintain formation, Olive and Heike were pressed into me as the Hunters were slowly forced to give ground. Leech-fingered hands began catching on padded sleeves as the Boglings snatched past Starsteel bayonet tips.

 

Then Temple roared, and the Hunters moved in unison. They each grabbed their muskets tight, one hand at the stock, one choking up the barrel. With grunts of effort, they pushed at the Boglings, holding their guns horizontal so that they formed a defensive pentagon. Shockingly, the Boglings stumbled, and in the fleeting moment that bought the Hunters, five hands dropped away from wooden gunstocks and drew Starsteel sabres.

 

The Boglings closed again, but this time they were met by walls of dragging cuts, parting Beast-flesh all around. As one, the Hunters began to move. The way back was impassable – the bulk of the Boglings was there – but with support from Victoria and Philani on his flanks, Temple managed to clear the way forwards. I felt a hand grasping my neck and almost shrieked in panic before realising it was Olive. Temple had ordered her to move me and Heike along with the Hunters the moment they moved, and she was obeying with survivor’s determination.

 

In a burst of swinging Starsteel, spraying ichor, and squelching muck, we were through, and no longer surrounded. With steps nowhere near as careful as before, we hurried deeper into the bog, floundering gracelessly through the water whenever a better route did not immediately present itself. Flora, Philani, and Lettice covered the retreat with musket fire, reloading as swiftly as their bayonets allowed, while Temple and Victoria pushed ahead.

 

Lettice said something that drew a grim chuckle from Flora and Philani, but before I dared contemplate if I wanted the translation, Heike asked if there was a way to get clear of the bog without looping back towards the Boglings. I told them we could cross the bog and go into the trees, which would get us clear of them, but Hellebosch was the only village around, and the woods wouldn’t be safe.

 

Heike translated, and Victoria said something to Temple in an imploring tone; something I imagined was close to “It can’t be less safe than this.”

 

Temple hesitated for a moment, then tossed a question at Heike. They translated, asking me what the quickest path out of the bog but away from the Boglings was. I told them there was only one good route from here and gave the instructions. Heike translated, and Temple immediately moved in the direction I had described.

 

I looked back and saw we were getting increasingly further away from the Boglings, their bodies clearly not made for pursuit. Before I could celebrate, though, I heard a curse up front. With a clenching gut, I looked ahead.

 

Yet more Boglings were rising from the water.

 

We stopped. Temple hesitated; I saw him glance back at the pursuing Boglings and count their numbers to decide our best option. Then I saw a flicker, at the edge of my sight. Spectral, ephemeral, but clear: an attention-grabbing twirl, followed by a beckoning bow.

 

A Dancer.

 

It was beckoning me to go further into the bog. It was crazy, I knew that, but given the choice between having to rush one group of Boglings or the other versus following a Dancer…

 

I knew the others wouldn’t heed me. Heike, perhaps, but not Olive, not the Hunters. They respected my beliefs, but they did not share them. And so, I made a bold, perhaps cruel decision.

 

I told them to follow me, and I ran.

 

I ran further into the bog. Further away from safety. I heard Temple roar my name. I heard Victoria yell something I would not begrudge her having been “Let him die.” But when I looked over my shoulder, the others were following.

 

A splitting of possible paths. Another twirl of a Dancer, another beckoning bow. I followed, and ran, and the Boglings fell further and further behind as I fought to stay on raised ground as much as possible, and my legs and lungs were burning, and the Hunters caught up.

 

Once again, I felt a hand on my neck, but this grip was much, much stronger than Olive’s. Temple hoisted me up, all but lifting me clear into the air, and barked in my face.

 

“Explain,” I assumed he said, and I pointed.

 

There, further into the bog, the Dancers parted to reveal a small mound, only a yard taller than Temple. It was an inconspicuous thing, glanced at from a distance across countless visits to the bog through the years. An old thing, made by humans long dead, from before the Coming of the Beasts.

 

Only… There was smoke rising from its top.

 

Temple stared. Blinked. Asked a question of Victoria as the others caught up, Flora, Philani, and Lettice having all but overtaken Olive and Heike. She said something breathless, and Temple let me go. My neck tingled where his grip had been, but when he squeezed my shoulder it was with affection. He nodded at me, and I didn’t need Heike to understand he was thanking me and telling me to lead on.

 

We pushed towards the mound, the Boglings still coming after us. At first, it appeared to have no entrance, but as we circled it we found a well-maintained door made of two layers of sturdy wood. Thanking the Dancers, I reached out to open it, but Temple pulled me back. He stowed his sabre and aimed his bayonet square at the door. Then he gave an order to Victoria, and she pulled at the door so that it swung fully open.

 

I waited for something to come rushing out, but the mound’s innards remained still. Carefully, Temple went in, a smoke hole in the centre of the mound providing a weak, pale grey light. There was no fire. No smoke. I realised it had been a Dancer, twirling atop the mound to convince the Hunters to trust me and come to this shelter.

 

Temple was silent for a moment, but then he called out. The other Hunters ushered us quickly inside and pulled the door shut.

 

For a moment, all seemed dark, but then my eyes adjusted to the light coming down the grated hole in the roof’s centre. Lettice and Philani found a beam which slotted neatly into hooks on the door and doorframe.

 

We were safe.

 

In silence, we waited for the Boglings to reach us. The Hunters prepared for the attack, the assault on the door and the roof grate that was sure to come.

 

Except it didn’t come.

 

The squelching sounds of pursuit approached, but just before reaching their inevitable crescendo, they simply stopped. Silence descended outside the mound.

 

After some time, Temple murmured a command. Carefully, Philani and Lettice removed the beam blocking the door. Lettice gingerly pushed it open to look outside.

 

The moment she did, the Boglings came rushing forwards. With a curse, Lettice pulled the door shut and Philani, helped by Flora, blocked it again.

 

Silence descended once more.

 

Utterly confused, we settled down. We couldn’t leave, and we were exhausted. Well… Olive, Heike, and I were exhausted. The Hunters were, at most, strained.

 

Temple spoke softly to Heike, and they translated, explaining that the Hunters’ leader did not trust this strange stillness to last, but understood that we non-Hunters would not be able to run back out of the bog with Beasts on our heels.

 

Thus, they were going to pick them off, using their unexplained aversion of the closed door to our advantage.

 

Olive, Heike, and I were given pellets of beeswax in cloth and told to knead them until they turned good and malleable before stuffing them into our ears. The Hunters did likewise.

 

Then they began preparing their guns, removing the bayonets and loading new shots. Over the muffling wax, Temple explained they had been given new guns for this Hunt; ones that were less likely to fail due to getting wet. He showed where there would have been a pan for gunpowder before, demonstrated how he now instead placed a so-called percussion cap on a small cone, and explained how striking that cap would allow for an ignition to take place and fire a Starsteel ball. As an added bonus to the increased reliability, he explained, the time between pulling the trigger and the bullet being fired was reduced, and it was easier to reload.

 

I wondered why the Hunter was explaining this, but when I looked into his face I realised this was a sign of gratitude. Of respect. He did not trust this mound, but he realised it had saved us, and the only reason we had found it was that I had shown the way. I had revealed the secrets of the Dancers to save the Hunters. Now, Temple was revealing some of the secrets of the Hunters to thank me.

 

The Hunters readied themselves. Victoria and Philani kneeled in front of the door, the muzzles of their muskets kissing the wood. Flora and Lettice stood behind them, muskets protruding over Victoria and Philani’s helmeted heads. Temple stood at the door, the beam removed.

 

He looked his Hunters in the eye.

 

They nodded.

 

He swung open the door.

 

The Boglings charged, but they were met with a musket salvo. Even with clogged ears, the noise in the mound was staggering. I clasped my hands over my ears as the door swung shut. Temple grasped one of the door’s hooks, pulling it properly closed, and cleared one ear as his Siblings reloaded. He listened carefully, but the Boglings were still again.

 

He smirked.

 

And so it went on. Temple forced the door open with impressive strength, swinging it entirely out of the way despite the awkward angle, allowing his Hunters to fire a salvo past him at the suddenly charging Boglings. Then he pulled the door shut and allowed his Siblings to reload as the Beasts – inexplicably – retreated again.

 

On and on it went, the mound filling with a haze of smoke so thick the hole in the roof might as well not have existed. Olive, Heike, and I sat as far from the door as possible, ears clamped shut, as the Hunters continued their deadly labour.

 

Salvo by salvo, the Boglings were thinned out, until, eventually, a salvo was shot into empty air, no Beast in sight. At Temple’s signal, the Hunters all put down their muskets, cleared their ears, and drew their sabres.

 

Together, they charged outside, creating some distance between them and the mound before forming up with their backs towards each other. The door swung shut, and I frantically pulled the wax from my ears to listen.

 

Nothing.

 

The door opened, and I saw Temple’s smiling face, his celebrating Siblings and the strewn-about bodies of countless Boglings behind him.

 

The Beasts were dead.