The Slave World Abductions Ch. 11

The Slave World Abductions

A Fanfiction

Part Eleven

The Road To Avarakan

Part Two

by The Preve

Based upon characters and concepts created by Roxy Rex.

The author wishes to express his deepest thanks to Roxy Rex for his permission in writing this story.

18+ Content

The first of the "complications" to hit us were the bandits. No surprise there. Just an indication the Desert of Gold was starting to assert itself.

Bandit Country usually began several days out from Red Rock. They never strayed too close to town, not wanting to tangle with the militia patrols.

Few were brave enough to set up base in the deep desert. That area belonged to monsters, dark sorcerers, and jinn like Shaharabad.

The bandits didn't worry me. The caravan had enough protection to handle them. The real trouble would happen in the deep desert.

Shaharabad sent out raiding parties, occasionally, or participated himself. I'd entertained the notion, briefly, of going to Shaharabad's oasis to negotiate Lola Pandit's release, but dismissed it.

Shaharabad was not reasonable like Averna, even if he was not quite as powerful as her.

His profile read consummate narcissist and sociopath. He'd love a challenge from me, and if I lost, I'd be his plaything until he got bored.

I needed an angle. He had to be taken out somehow. The Sharif offered a way. I just hoped he'd cooperate.

The first bandit attack was the worst, actually. We lost a couple of bodyguards, and a few merchants were injured--arrows and knife slashes mostly. No casualties among the tourists, and no loss of merchandise.

The bandits lost many more, an example of the protective measures taken by Elyssa. I did my bit, considerably.

I kept my rifle and grenades cloaked, and my S&W concealed. I knew using them might reduce casualties but revealing modern world gear would complicate matters.

The merchants offered no complaints, and even praised Elyssa for her defensive spells, and pick of bodyguards.

A few compliments were tossed my way. Lavinia was especially effusive.

"That one's going to be trouble," I thought.

The tourists' reactions varied. Stannish and Alba Galloway were particularly loud in their complaints.

Most them variations on, "What kind of operation is this?! This is what you call protection?! I want to speak to the caravan master (that last one was Alba of course)!"

Bran and Britta treated the attack as an exciting movie (or stage play, film making tech was still in its infancy on New Albion).

Erick was the only one who displayed some steel, smart but cautious. He stayed quiet.

Bran's attitude was shared by his fratbro friends. I talked with Elyssa about it.

"Those three really don't get it do they?" I asked. "They'll get themselves and the people near them killed."

"Yes, they probably will," she agreed, coldly.

I didn't like her look, and really, what happened a second later was something I should have anticipated.

No, she didn't slave me but it could have happened. I slipped up. Looking back, I'd say I didn't trust her, but didn't overly think about possible threats from her direction either.

I'm still kicking myself about it actually.

It's called a damp sigil. Not too dangerous, on the surface. One of the minor charms--so minor they barely register on your personal wards.

Plus, they're temporary, like tattoos from a carnival, fading after a few weeks or months.

However, once they're on you, they're effective for their specific purpose.

Getting one on you can be pretty easy in the right hands. Like the unarmed saddler oiling Elyssa's saddle, whom I made the mistake of dismissing.

A slap to the back of my neck was the alert. Damn! I was getting soft. I would have felt his presence a second earlier.

I drew a knife. The guy was already already walking back to the saddle, chuckling.

"What the fuck?!" Something was stuck to the back of my neck. I reached behind and pulled it off--a sticky, an adhesive card with the sigil on it.

"Fuck!" No use. It was already on my skin.

Elyssa smirked. "Don't worry agent whoever you are. The damp's not meant to slave you. 'Sides, your wardings are too powerful for that. It's just there to keep some of your magic in check. Including locking whatever tricks you have in that bottomless bag of yours."

Bottomless bag, Slaveworlder term for a tesseract pack. Basically, it meant I wouldn't have access to my rifle and grenades. I still had my S&W, knives, and katana.

So, she wanted me as a bodyguard, but a less effective one for some reason.

However, figuring out why was for later. Right now, "Who made me?"

She could've kept her mouth shut. Instead she smiled and said, "Lavinia Le Roux. You know? One of her many lovers was the head of Ys Nouvelle's secret service? He taught her a few things."

Like identifying some of the wardings used by complacent agents of the Department. I nodded.

"You know, I can still kill you for this," I growled, rubbing my neck.

"And you won't because I'm the caravan master, and I'm protecting those two slaves you need as witnesses. The damp charm will wear off completely by the time we reach Avarakan. I just need you not interfering with some things certain to happen along the way."

"The tourists?"

"Distractions," she responded, with a tone as cold as her homeland.

Now I knew why she had so many tourists.

That reason stood as why I wasn't able to keep all of them safe, on the way to Avarakan, but that was in the future.

I was silent on my way back to my horse. Basically, I was trying to decide whether to kill her or not when we reached Avarakan.

Bringing on extra tourists to provide distractions for the many monsters, and others we'd encounter, was a dick move by all accounts, and yet...

The tourists, at least most of the type we had, were best exemplified by the Galloways.

The merchants were smarter. They were veterans of trips like this.

The tourists? Let's just say it was difficult feeling sympathy for them. I was going to warn them anyway, no matter the risk of disruption to the caravan. Due diligence and all that.

Anything that happened after depended on luck and brains. I could only hope they had a lot of the former. Most, with some exceptions, didn't have much of the latter.

Also, I was due a chat with Lavinia, and it wasn't going to be a friendly one.

****

"You mean to say we're bloody bait?!" Stannish growled.

"Not quite bait," I answered. "Distractions. Elyssa Baralis took on extra tourists because she figured most of you could keep bogies occupied while the caravan gets away."

"Not bloody likely," he snorted.

"'Tis to be expected of dark elves," a light elf, Teryn Brandonhall, Baron Greenleaf, sniffed (early 20s, taller and more robust than Alwyn, dark brown hair, emerald green eyes befitting his house. I think I went to school with a cousin of his. Didn't like her; didn't like him. Not much older than the fratboys. Crueler though. I wouldn't miss this guy, but I was obliged to warn him).

"Look folks, I don't like this, not one bit, but those are the facts. These bandits you've seen are nothing. The deep desert is the real deal. I called this meeting, out of due diligence and duty, to warn you why you're here, and what's coming."

Most of the tourists stared at me, expressions ranging from blank skepticism to derisive contempt.

None of them really got it. We were in the Desert of Gold, filled with some of the worst horrors in Slave World, and I was trying to reason with a bunch of candidates for the Darwin Awards.

"And that's how Elyssa set it up," I realized. "She vetted them."

Easier on her ethics, such as they were, if not her conscience.

Pick tourists representing the dumbest, most entitled, batch among the pool at Tharbad.

A virtual dinner plate... or toy selection. We'll get to the toy part later.

"How bad is it going to get?" the question took me out of my brief digression. It came from Erick.

"Real bad," I told him. I gave him the truth. He was one of the few with common sense.

"Manticores, basilisks, chimeras, mimics, bandits with the balls to live there, jinn, sorcerers, and warlords. You'll be okay if you stick to the caravan. Save the exploring for Avarakan (which isn't saying much but at least that place has militia and constabulary)."

Erick nodded; he might get through.

"Bugger that!" Demetrios Balaska laughed, to the agreed snorts of Bron and Bran. "Caution is the coward's excuse against adventure. We live for the thrill!"

The trio didn't high five, that custom was less well known among the Realms, but they may as well have.

These clowns are fucked. The challenge was to make sure they didn't fuck anyone else in the process.

Most of the other tourists present at the meeting were too numerous to name at the moment. My narrative focuses mostly on the ones who stood out: the Galloways, or Balaska and O'Ruiarc, and Greenleaf. The rest I'll just name as each incident happened.

And believe me, a lot happened. Especially where the Galloways were concerned.

Most of the tourists held varied degrees of entitlement and stupidity. My duties obligated me to do my best to protect them, in spite my personal opinions on some.

In hindsight, after we reached Avarakan, Elyssa said I did a fairly good job. I didn't think so, especially since I had a hand tied thanks to her. More than a few instances occurred where I missed my rifle and grenades. I blame Lavinia as well.

Some of those losses hurt.

As it stood, the whole trip could be compared to Gene Wilder's Willy Wonka.

I lost count of all the variations on "Stop! Don't! Come back!" I said before the inevitable results.

In any case, after the meeting broke up, I went to have my chat with Lavinia.

She was by her wagon, giving orders to one of her servants on some meal she was preparing.

She saw me approach and gave one of her seductive, mischievous smiles.

"So, Sieur Okombo, come to accept my gratitude at la... uck!"

She wasn't smiling after that "uck!" Difficult to do so when you're slammed against a wagon with a knife at your throat, while your servant cum bodyguard is staring down the barrel of an S&W.

"I most graciously accept your gratitude, Madame Le Roux. I just dropped by to inform you, your gratitude means there likely will be people who will die when they shouldn't, because of you. Any more of your gratitude and I will accept it in such a deep and incisive manner that you will never, ever, have to thank me again."

I emphasized my gratitude with a press of the edge to her pale throat.

She was terrified. I saw it on her face, but I also saw lust. She was getting off on this. I withdrew, but held the gun on the servant. She stood, shaken, rubbing her throat.

"You have a certain arrogance in regards to your abilities, Sieur Okombo."

"Every edge counts on a caravan, Madame Le Roux. There's less of it, thanks to you. I don't know how much difference it would make were I at full level, but the smallest advantage is a precious commodity. You are selfish and vain, and a threat to the caravan. Don't come near me again." I walked away.

Yes, my words do sound arrogant, but I speak from training and experience. Certainly they don't make me immune from self stupidity. I made plenty of mistakes, and I will make plenty more but, arrogant or not, you don't hobble an asset in a perilous situation.

Especially in the Desert of Gold.

Once the caravan got moving again, it took several days to leave Bandit Country. Much of the terrain around Bandit Country was similar to Red Rock Springs: scrub, canyons, rocks, and boulders.

Once out of it, you're entering the deep desert, much of it vast expanses of dunes spread out like a golden sea.

The temperature ranged from blazing hot during the day, to near freezing at night. I chose well with my courser; he could handle it.

The wagons in these caravans were specially built for the desert--broad, with wide wheels to distribute the weight over the sand.

Camels, horses, oxen, and mules specially bred to endure long stretches without water, with fodder wagons to supplement, made up the "engines".

Those first few days out of Bandit Country were relatively easy. Nothing happened to break the monotony of the journey. For a brief moment I thought, perhaps, my warnings had took, but nope.

The "Stop! Don't! Come back!" happened on Day Fifteen.

The victim: Charles Ruskel of New Albion. No connection to the Galloways except through the same tourist agency. Similar in age, appearance, and attitude to Stannish, albeit of more working class background.

We were stopped on hard flat ground to wait out the noon heat.

Dunes were nearby, surrounded by soft, powdery sand. I recognized the type of sand.

I warned the tourists to stay off it. Elyssa warned the tourists to stay off it. The smarter tourists warned the dumber tourists to stay off it.

Charles was one of the dumber tourists. He thought the sand would be a good spot to answer a call of nature.

I was at one of the wagons, assisting a wine merchant with inventory (wine from his realm was highly prized but it wouldn't be uncommon for some of the tourists : cough!: fratboys : cough!: to do a little tapping now and then) when I noticed Charles striding toward the sand.

"Yo! Charles!" I shouted racing toward him. "What the fuck you doing?! Didn't I say stay off the sand?! It's dangerous!"

He glanced at me with the dumb, condescending contempt reserved for children trying to warn clueless adults about the boogeyman in the closet.

"Bugger off!" he snorted, with a dismissive gesture. "I'm trying to take a bloody shite. That sand looks perfect."

"That sand's quicksand! Step on it and you're done!"

"Quicksand's for swamps and bogs, you bloody idiot! This is a desert."

A reeling spell would've stopped him, but Elyssa's damp sigil shortened the proximity.

He stepped on the sand, took his pants down, and disappeared.

It happened fast. He didn't even have time to shout. A puff of sand and he was gone.

Others were watching. A few of the tourists screamed. Some of the others held blank faces, a few with shock, a few coldly apathetic. The guards' faces varied as well.

Did I try to save him? Of course. I took a rope, tied one end around a wheel, the other around my belt, laid a protection spell on it (I didn't trust Elyssa, Lavinia, or some other prick who might try to cut it).

I ran to the sand and dove in. I searched underneath for a few moments, while my breath held. I ran reel and detection spells. It was too late. He was too deep.

I got out of the sand to see the cold face of Elyssa. I thought I saw a twitch of her mouth.

"I see a smirk or a sneer, I'll kill you on principle," I said, shaking off the sand.

"You warned him. He didn't listen."

"I could have kept him off the sand," I looked at her hard. She kept her face blank and left.

A few of the tourists were somber after that. The Galloways weren't, with the exception of Erick, but they didn't talk much about it.

Except Bran, who joked with Bron and Demetrios.

"Sat down to do his business and poof! Just like that," he chuckled. "Like watching a traveling magician show."

The other two were pretty jocular as well. I decided then and there, if an opportunity to give this toxic trio a proper spanking came up, I wouldn't hesitate.

Slave World took care of that, though.

Day Twenty-Eight

The caravan had stopped by Rainbow Stone Hill. Yeah, I know, simple, straightforward name. It was a popular stop for caravans. The multicolored rock formations were tourist attractions. Plus, natural fountains and pools provided fresh water for replenishment, bathing, and laundering. Basically, it's a rest stop.

I had bad vibes about this place. Something was wrong.

So did Elyssa, as did other, more sensitive tourists, including Erick.

I couldn't say the same about his sister, Britta. We put out warnings about the hill, not forbidding tourists from exploring it, necessarily, but emphasizing groups, and never wandering off alone.

It looked all right and good at first look, but I got serious "Picnic At Hanging Rock," vibes here.

I expressed as much to Elyssa.

"This place crawls, Elyssa. My recommendation is we refill our water and put as much distance between this place and us as soon as possible."

Elyssa looked at the hill. "I'm going to risk it, but I'll put out a notice at the Avarakan Bazaar, to warn the caravans."

We told the guards and merchants to stay alert.

The caravan set out to replenish and refresh. I got in a wash and some laundering, plus a proper rubdown of my courser.

Most of the tourists went off to explore the hill, and do a little swimming and bathing. When they returned, five were missing, Britta among them.

Elyssa was not inclined to organize a search.

"I'm very inclined to do so," I told her.

"And I would be very inclined to get the caravan moving while you search," she responded.

"To which I would be inclined to notify the Department of your inclinations, once I get to Avarakan. After which I would be very inclined to settle matters with you, personally."

"You think you can survive the desert?"

I stepped very close to her, "If you knew anything about my... guild, then you have an idea of our capabilities. Would you like to test them?"

Her cold expression didn't change, but she said, "You have one hour."

"Two."

"One and a half, then we leave, damn your threat."

"Acknowledged."

The other bodyguards and merchants, plus a few tourists, watched our exchange with interest.

Not a few were disappointed we didn't have it out right then and there.

The Galloways, at least the parents, were beside themselves with "worry" (such as it was, I used the quotation marks for a reason, given the further revelations down the road). Erick was quiet, but I saw actual worry on his face.

"He's actually concerned for his sister," I thought. "In spite her bullying."

I always hated running into good people on Slave World. This realm eats them alive.

Bran held no worries about his sister at all. He smirked.

"Probably fell asleep sunbathing," he snorted.

"And the other four?" I asked.

"Got lost," he shrugged.

Just one excuse, just one. God this fuck was a piece of shit. I also noted Stannish and Alba, however loud their wails over Britta, didn't admonish their son.

I picked two for the search party: Borga, an orc, and Skrag, a human mercenary from Red Rock.

"You wanna help, Stannish?" I asked.

Stannish paled. "I'll leave it in your hands, Mister Okombo. I have to look after my two sons."

"Hey! Don't look at me. I'm not taking after Sis' latest screw up," Bran's uncaring face was so damn punchable. I was really close to killing this prick.

I didn't expect much from them anyway. I only asked Stannish to test him. Pretty much full confirmation of his character--its lack that is.

This is the tree Bran and Britta fell from. Erick is an anomaly.

Erick confirmed it when he stepped up. "I'll come."

"Erick, what the bloody Hades are you doing?" Alba asked.

"Helping find Britta."

"You will not. Come here this instant young man!" Alba moved to grab Erick's arm.

He pulled away, and looked squarely at his family. The look of cold contempt and disgust stopped them dead.

I could have told him to stay with the caravan, but I knew that determined look. I had it on my face at his age, after my first trip to Slave World, and before I joined the Department.

I leaned close to him, "Stay close to me--do what I say."

He nodded, still looking at his family.

I went up the hill with the search party. We didn't have to search long. One of the missing, a Lemurian named Jiang-Mei (the Jiang family held a textile monopoly), emerged from a path between two large boulders, rushing in panic.

Her hair was wet--she was dressed in undergarments, hastily put on and also wet. Her look was complete horror.

"Oh! Thank the Goddess! Horror! Oh terror! A spell has consumed my four companions!"

Britta had hung around with Jiang. I'd taken note of other girls she associated with.

"Eira Gloamglass (light elf, minor nobility), Asha Akeem (Atlantian ivory broker's daughter), Monica Belle (human, from Alfheim, collegiate, father's high ranking in a financial firm), and Britta Galloway?"

Mei nodded fiercely.

"Take us to them."

She shrank at first, not willing to go back. Didn't blame her.

"Erick, stay close to her. Borga, Skrag, blades and bludgeons." I drew my katana.

Jiang explained.

"We went to one of the pools with the small waterfalls. I went a ways off to shower, while the others swam. When I came back to rejoin them, I heard silence. I came to the pool and... O Goddess!" she shook her head.

She led us to the pool and I saw it immediately.

"Fuck."

Three were there: Eira, Monica, and Asha. Britta was missing.

The three were nude, in various positions, in and around the pool.

They were frozen, like living statues. Expressions on their faces ranged from confusion to utter terror.

I stepped close to one, Eira. She stood at the edge, face emotionless, but a tear ran down her eye. Her mouth gave out a faint moan.

I looked at the ground around the three. The flattened plants and disturbed dirt confirmed it.

"Borga, Skrag, Erick, help these women down the hill. Tell Elyssa a basilisk's taken residence at one of the pools. If you can't help them down, get more people. If Elyssa raises a stink, tell her I'm invoking the Law of The Caravans. She'll understand."

"What are you going to do?" asked Erick.

"Well, I'm going to have to kill it, am I? Then find your sister (although I had a very bad idea where I would find her). I don't, this thing will menace other caravans."

"I want to come along," Borga said. "The caravan could use the meat, and I can sell the eyes and venom at the bazaar."

"Same here," Skrag said. "We split it among ourselves."

"I'm not interested in basilisk venom. We get through this, you two can split it (I got a feeling one would "split" the other before we reached Avarakan). Erick, you take Jiang back, and tell Elyssa what happened. Set a party to help the girls, and remember the Law."

Erick nodded and left with Jiang.

"Let's go boys. We got a basilisk to settle."

Basilisk hunting is actually pretty easy. They're big snakes, essentially, with some lizard like features. You can track them by following the slip-slide trail they leave in the dirt or jungle floor.

The problem comes when you actually find one.

Basilisks are natural carriers of paralytic spells, powerful ones. One look from them and you're frozen in place. The basilisk can then feed at its leisure, and there's nothing the victim can do, except hope the digestive fluid doesn't take too long.

Ofttimes, with multiple victims, the basilisk will paralyze a group, take one, and come back for the others later.

Like the girls at the pool.

The trick is to not look at the basilisk directly, but even then, you still got problems.

Basilisk venom is among the deadliest in the realms--makes cobra venom look like tea. Alfheim medical researchers had a fine 'ol time coming up with an effective antivenom.

The venom has other uses, very profitable, to doctors, assassins, even brewers and distillers (processed basilisk venom makes a good, nonfatal, additive to alcohol, gives it extra kick).

The potential profit was why I had a greedy orc, and an equally greedy mercenary, with me.

We were joined a short time later by another. I wasn't surprised, just annoyed. Erick wasn't really good at concealment or shadowing people.

I didn't even have to turn around. "All right, Erick, get out from that boulder, and tell me why you're not at the caravan."

Erick stepped out, sheepishly, to the annoyed frown of Borga, and amused smirk of Skrag.

"I sent her along with the message," he said. "I want to see this through."

"Basilisks are deadly, kid," I said. "And you might not like what's at the end."

"I'll take the chance." Erick was uncertain but determined. A young man wanting to prove himself, to himself as much as to others.

"Stay close, look at the ground," I said, and we went on.

Skrag got it first. I figured the basilisk would nest at one of the other pools, maybe to await more victims.

Looking back, I think Skrag was too set on beating Borga to the basilisk for caution. He'd gone on ahead, visions of sovereigns in his head, no doubt.

Greed'll do for you every time.

The path we were on broadened to another pool. My wards were sensing the magic.

"It's here. Everyone be careful." I assumed battle stance, took one of my knives, and gave it to Erick. "Erick, stay behind me. Skrag pull back. These things are clever."

"I know what I'm doing," Skrag said, right before a reptilian head reared out of the pool, and snatched him up.

I glanced away quickly, and shielded Erick's view. Skrag, to his credit, looked to have gotten a slash in with his sword. I can't say I saw it exactly. I heard a hissing shriek, and a body fall.

"Borga! Back to the entrance, we can hit it there. Borga? Borga!"

Borga wasn't in a condition to retreat. Stiff as a statue.

"Erick, stop gaping! Run!"

He didn't have to be told twice. We ran back up the path.

Where is it? Where is it? There! I pointed to a nook between two boulders to the left. "In that nook, now! Wait, take off your shirt, wrap it around your head. Do it! No questions!"

I waited until Erick did so, making sure his eyes were covered. "Now hide and crouch. Don't come out until I say."

Erick felt his way into the nook. It was large enough for a man, but the basilisk wouldn't be able to fit.

Meanwhile, I hid behind a boulder opposite. I took off my shoes, and drew a knife. I wasn't going to use the S&W. It would hear the click.

I needed to time this, and make as little noise as possible. No metallic clicks, or the sounds of boot heels on stone.

Basilisks, like many reptiles, look for warm bodies with their snouts. Good against a backdrop of cool water, like a pool, but not against a boulder with absorbed heat from a desert sun.

I listened for the soft hisses and slithering, then quietly climbed to the top of the boulder.

I looked down, taking care to avoid its eyes. I wished I had a mirror. Basilisk hunters carry them to lessen the spell's effects (works on Gorgons too).

The beast was scaled, emerald green with silver-gray stripes. It slithered like a sidewinder, albeit the narrow path restricted its movements.

I shuddered--a large bulge was winding its way down the snake's length. So much for Borga's cut.

Worse was the bulge in its midsection. If I didn't time this right, I'd be joining them.

Erick, of all people, gave me the opening. He told me, later, even though he couldn't see, he needed to distract the snake.

He felt around for a stone, and threw it. The sound did the trick. The basilisk's head jerked, its angle away from me.

I leapt, landing just near its head, and sank my knife at its base. I rammed hard, sinking it to the hilt.

The basilisk shrieked, and I was subjected to Slave World's version of bull riding.

It took me an adhere charm to keep on it. I got a few lumps from slams against the stone sides of the path. All while keeping my eyes shut, to prevent me from inadvertently looking into its own.

I knew, though, I needed to kill this thing quick. A knock on my head would stun me, and I'd be vulnerable.

"The spine," I thought. "I need to get the spine."

It took a couple more knives, and my katana, to find it. The snake bounced and hissed, and shrieked for a couple more minutes, before it settled.

I was pretty well bruised, and wobbly, when I slid from its back.

I took my katana and staggered around its body, keeping alert, in case the snake was faking. I kept my eyes averted as well.

Basilisk spells do not fade immediately with their deaths.

There's going to be some mages with uses for these eyes.

The creature was a big one--large enough to swallow an orc. Among others.

It took me two slices of my katana, one on each side, to take off its head.

"You can come out now, Erick."

Erick emerged, his eyes wide. "Bloody hells."

"Mind the eyes. They're still potent."

The thing was a twenty footer. We went down its length to the two large lumps in its middle.

We looked at them. I turned to Erick.

"Maybe you should sit this out, Erick. This isn't going to be good."

Erick was pale, but shook his head. "I need to see, sir."

I nodded, took a knife, and cut.

Borga spilled out first. I felt for his pulse--nothing. I turned to the next lump.

A couple of slices later, and she spilled on the ground.

The digestive fluids hadn't had time to work. Her legs were together--one arm at her groin, her hand on her crotch. The other arm was across her breasts, almost as if she were trying to preserve her modesty.

Britta's blue eyes stared, sightless, at the sky. Her face seemed almost calm.

I knelt and felt for a pulse. Her body was cold. She'd smothered in the snake's belly.

Not a good way to die.

Erick visibly struggled to keep his bile down. His eyes were wet but he didn't cry.

I was sorry for him. She'd been cruel to him, but she was his sister. Families work that way sometimes.

Erick took his shirt and used it to wipe the mucus and fluid from her body. I joined him, using my shirt as well.

Another party, led by Elyssa, arrived as we finished. It included bodyguards, servants, a few merchants, and some tourists, all armed with some weapon or other.

The Galloways weren't among them.

"Impressive," Elyssa said, with some respect. "These creatures are difficult to kill."

"No shit," I spat at her.

"Looks like we can add basilisk jerky to our diet," one of the bodyguards said.

"I claim the eyes," said a merchant.

"I claim the venom," said another.

"No," Elyssa said. "It's Corlan Okombo's kill. The eyes and venom are his."

I was silent. Earlier I would have allowed Borga and Skrag to claim them but that was moot now, and I'm a pragmatic guy. Basilisk eyes don't decay but harden into jewel-like orbs--precious and useful to mages.

"I claim the venom. The eyes go to the caravan, for bonuses, including the tourists who survive this trip."

The crowd brightened. A few extra sovereigns, from the sale of the eyes, would be good compensation for the trip.

The next few days were spent stripping the basilisk.

The eyes were removed and wrapped in silk, supplied by Gupta. The venom was collected in jars and assigned to the custody of the wine merchant from earlier.

The skin was removed for tanning. Basilisk skin was fashionable in wealthy circles.

The meat was removed for steaks and jerky. Some merchants supplied their personal cooks for that purpose.

I wasn't too interested in basilisk stripping. Neither was Erick.

We had bodies to look after.

A group went on ahead to the pool, and brought back Skrag's bloated blue body. The basilisk had given him a nasty bite on his thigh. The venom did the rest.

Erick carried his sister back to the caravan. I didn't think he'd carry her all the way. He'd didn't look that strong, but he managed. I accompanied, with a group carrying Borga and Skrag.

The Galloways, when Erick arrived with Britta, gave me further reasons to hate them.

Sure they wailed when Erick set her down in front of them, but not from grief.

"Oh my poor, precious daughter!" Alba sobbed. "What will we tell Lord Makepeace? We'll lose his patronage!"

"We have two sons," Stannish sniffed. "He has daughters. We could even receive dowries. He might be sympathetic to our loss."

There are times when one hears something so utterly beyond the pale in callousness, the mind nearly shuts down in a failed attempt to process it. That was me in that moment.

The Galloways had just lost their daughter, to a horrifying death nonetheless, and the only grief they could muster, was over the loss of an advantageous marriage to some barely known aristocrat.

Bran didn't have a smirk, just a cold, emotionless look, and it wasn't shock.

"Sociopath, or psychopath," I thought. "This family is toxic."

Erick looked at his family. The hate and disgust on his face said everything.

This kid needs to get as far away from these fucks as possible, soon as he can.

Erick turned and stalked away.

"Good idea," I thought, and did the same. I had serious doubts I would lift a finger, or waste magic, on these jokers when the time came.

Borga, Skrag, and Britta were buried at the base of the hill. There were better resting places, but there were worse. Quicksand for example.

And while the caravan lost three, a dangerous animal, who posed a threat to others, was settled.

Plus, I scored some basilisk venom. Doesn't balance things, but it was something.

And the desert was still there to traverse.

To Be Continued.