Towering Trouble: A LitRPG Isekai, page 34
There was a look of triumph in Ruhildi eyes as she ran toward her mistress. But when the dwarrow drew close, Saskia lurched to her feet, baring a set of pointed incisors that would make any grawmalkin envious. Her arms were splayed, poised to rend the dwarrow limb from limb with claws like curved daggers. Beneath the gore, he glimpsed flesh as smooth and hard as polished granite.
And in the palm of her hand…
What on all the arbor…? Her palm shone with a very distinctive amber glow. Arlium, he realised. And not just any arlium—for now that he looked upon it, he felt its familiar call.
My focus! What has she done to my focus!?
“Sashki, it’s me!” cried Ruhildi, stepping toward her. “It’s over now, and you’re—”
A great clawed hand lashed out, catching the dwarrow across her midsection, tearing through her steel breastplate as though it were parchment. With a muttered curse, Ruhildi scrambled backward, clutching her side. Garrain saw blood welling up between her fingers.
The demon licked some of the gore from her arm, growling softly as her tongue traced across the gleaming surface. Her eyes shone with a bright inner light, but he saw no spark of awareness within. This was not the…person who had saved him. Something dark and bestial had awoken in the fires of the deepworm’s belly.
Grimly, Garrain stalked toward the demon, holding Trowbane at the ready. He’d promised Saskia he wouldn’t turn the weapon against her today, but this monster standing before him was no longer Saskia. Ollagor stepped up beside him, hackles raised.
The demon didn’t pay any heed to their advance. Eyes fixed on the retreating dwarrow, she gave a final growl, then turned and bounded away, vanishing beneath the battered trees.
Book 2, Chapter 6: Split
Her world was slime and stench and terror and torment. And above all else, hunger.
Some deep instinct had assumed control, while her mind fled to greener pastures. Any pastures would be preferable to this—even barren fields, covered in cowpies. She thrashed and kicked and bit and ripped at the walls of her fleshy prison, gulping down mouthfuls of the acrid, mucusy membrane. It burned the inside of her mouth and throat, yet that was a mere tickle compared to what was happening on the outside, where the walls were squeezing her like toothpaste through a tube. Except this mouth had never been near a toothbrush or toothpaste. All about her sloshed the frothing liquid that had scoured away her armour and now turned upon her unprotected skin. Every nerve ending cried out in agony as it was seared away—only to be regrown, again and again, to suffer anew.
If there was an actual hell, it could hardly measure up to this. She couldn’t even scream. What little air there was in here was nearly as corrosive as the flesh-eating slime: searing away the inside of her lungs over and over.
All she could do was burn and thrash and tear and feed. She fed to fuel this frenzy of regeneration, which was the only thing keeping her from dissolving into goo.
A great undulating wave swept down the tunnel of flesh, depositing her inside an enormous pulsating sack of gore and acidic slime and tumbling boulders. Some of the rocks looked like giant marbles, worn down to a smooth, round finish.
Her rational mind lifted its head out of the sand for just long enough to recognise this stomach-churning chamber of nopitude for what it was: a gizzard. Found in animals such as birds, crocodiles and impossibly huge flesh-eating worms, the purpose of this organ was to pulverise food into a fine paste, ready to be digested.
Three things struck her in that moment. First was the absolute certainty that she wasn’t getting out of this thing alive. After everything she’d been through, she was going to meet her maker in the gizzard of this ridiculous creature. Of course, everyone was ultimately food for worms, but she never imagined it would end quite like this.
The other two things that struck her were car-sized boulders. A dark crimson stain spread across the slime. She felt a grinding, scraping pressure about her skull, pushing harder and harder and…
Squish!
Leather boots plunged into a shallow stream. They weren’t her boots. They weren’t her feet. The face reflected in the dark water wasn’t hers.
“Och Garri, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me.” Ruhildi’s voice sounded weird. Saskia couldn’t put a finger on it, but something had changed.
“It wasn’t a comple—deus!” Garrain halted, his expression in the water turning from grim determination to one of bafflement. “Saskia…?”
The elf’s voice was even more distorted; noticeably lower in pitch than she was used to hearing. This is how he hears his own voice, she realised.
“What’s happening?” she tried to say. “Why am I here? Why can I hear you?” Except the words didn’t come. She had no mouth. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even breathe.
“Go in peace, echo of Saskia,” said Garrain.
Oh, she thought. So that’s what I am. An echo. A ghost. Well this sucks.
Her thoughts spiralled inward, like a cockroach flushed down a toilet bowl. Down the gurgler she went, and for a time there was only pain and confusion and burning hunger.
When next her sight returned, Saskia was back in Wilbergond, looking upon the impossibly large form of the deepworm that had…oh no…no no no no no…that thing had eaten her! The worm looked like it had seen better days. It lay in a limp, tangled heap, while creatures of all shapes and sizes gnawed upon its thick hide.
Even as she watched through Garrain’s eyes, she felt a strange sense of frenzied movement, of hunger, of suffocation. Of rage. If she were dead, how could she be feeling any of these things?
Her head burst free of whatever had been pressing down on it. She felt the touch of hot air against newly regrown flesh, and the drawing of her first breath in what seemed like a lifetime.
At the same time, she watched from a distance as a bloody figure emerged from the worm’s brain in a fountain of gore.
The disconnect was making her dizzy. She was both here and there at the same time. The Saskia that was here in Garrain’s head felt eerily calm, but the one over there was near mindless with terror and fury, wanting only to bite and claw and tear…
Her body dropped to the ground, the impact leaving her momentarily stunned. She could see that it wasn’t quite her body—not the way she’d left it. There were two arms now, and one of her hands was glowing. Something was wrong with her skin. And…
She watched herself turn to face Ruhildi, snarling like a wild beast.
With dawning horror, Saskia realised she—her rational self, the one currently residing in Garrain’s head—wasn’t in control. Not at all. Her muscles tensed, but she could no more stop them than she could will her own heart to stop beating. She felt her claws tearing into her friend’s armour even before she saw it happen.
Whispering a silent scream, she struggled and strained to control her traitorous body. But all she earned for her efforts was the encroaching darkness, once again stealing away sight and sound and memory and mind.
She drifted awake to the feeling of something wriggling between her teeth, and the taste of hot blood on her tongue. Wherever her body was, it was feeding.
Yet still her sight wasn’t her own. She watched through Garrain’s eyes as he wandered the alien jungle alongside his enormous pet cat. What was up with that, by the way? She’d seen the same beast up on the surface. What was it doing down here?
Even as she recognised the big cat, she was getting this weird feeling about him. He is not alone, she thought. Why those words came to her, she had no idea, but they seemed important.
Also at Garrain’s side was Ruhildi and a growing entourage of zombie creatures. If she’d still had control of her own body, Saskia would’ve sagged in relief. Her claws had ruined the dwarf’s breastplate, but oh thank you thank you thank you, they hadn’t gone too deep.
Her friend and the druid seemed to have formed an uneasy alliance as they wandered the howlscape that was Wilbergond, searching for her feral self. At first, she couldn’t work out why Garrain was still here. Ruhildi didn’t appear to be holding him against his will. His pet had somehow found its way down here, so surely it could lead him back to the surface?
The answer, when it occurred to her, seemed obvious in hindsight. And a lot of other answers fell into place alongside it.
The glowing crystal she’d glimpsed in the palm of her hand. That was arlium. And she was pretty sure she knew where that had come from.
Oh yeah, he couldn’t be too happy about that…
Garrain’s magic staff must have dissolved in the deepworm’s stomach acid, along with most of her equipment. Somehow the arlium from its tip—the focus, Ruhildi had called it—had been absorbed into her flesh. That was the reason she was stuck like this, unable to return to her own body. Touching the staff had always opened the connection to Garrain, allowing her to spy on him. But now she couldn’t stop touching it, because it was embedded in her hand.
The druid would want his focus back, even if the staff itself had been destroyed. He might be able to have it fitted to another staff, and in so doing, regain his magic.
But to get it back, he’d have to cut it from her hand. Saskia very much doubted her feral self would just stand around and let him do that, but she wished him the best of luck. She wanted that arlium shard gone too—even if it meant losing the hand along with it.
Next time Saskia faded back into awareness, it was to the sight of a flickering campfire, back in what appeared to be the deepworm cavern. Garrain sat there a long time, staring into the flames, until Ruhildi stepped into view. “If you’re going to just sit there, we should go back out,” she said. “We’ve a wayward trow to catch.”
“You can’t sleep either?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “I won’t sleep soundly again until I find Sashki and knock some sense into her.”
“Aw, Ruhildi, you’re such a softie,” said Saskia. “I’m touched.”
Her view jerked about, and she heard a sudden intake of breath.
“Where are you, demon?” said Garrain. “Stop lurking in the shadows and reveal yourself.”
Saskia did a mental double take, before she finally realised what had happened. “Holy crap, you can hear me!”
At the same moment, Ruhildi said, “What are you talking about, Garri? Sashki isn’t here. A trow that size could scarcely sneak up on us.”
“I should’ve guessed, since I can hear you,” continued Saskia. “That’s how it was with the oracle kid.”
“Tell me you just heard that, dwarrow,” said Garrain.
“Heard what?” asked Ruhildi, frowning. “My ears aren’t as big as yours, you ken.”
“She won’t hear me,” said Saskia. “And I’m not really here, physically. But it really is me.”
“If she can’t hear you, how is it that you’re speaking to me thus?” he asked.
“Oh, that,” said Saskia. “Guess I should explain. I seem to be locked out of my own body right now, and…well, stuck in yours. Long story short, it’s because I have your, uh, focus stuck in me. Sorry to say, I think your staff kinda…melted, and somehow I absorbed the arlium from the staff.”
He was silent for a moment, before speaking. “If what you say is true, then removing the arlium…”
“Should allow me to return to my body. Plus, you get your magic back, I guess? That’s what you want, right? Problem is, right now, I’m not in control of my own body. Feral me is probably not going to be very cooperative.”
“Better a mindless demon than a wily one,” muttered Garrain.
“You’re fair cracked, you are,” said Ruhildi, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Oh yeah, before we go any further, you should fill Ruhildi in on what’s going on,” said Saskia. “Otherwise you’ll just sound like a loony talking to empty air.”
Garrain did just that. Upon hearing his explanation, Ruhildi’s eyes widened slightly, before narrowing again. “I want to believe you, but how do I ken this isn’t some alvari trick?”
Saskia spoke up. “She needs proof? Okay, how about this? Tell her…tell her Poggendoobler is a really silly name.”
Sounding a little embarrassed, Garrain relayed Saskia’s statement.
The dwarf’s eyes became slits. “I don’t ken what game you’re playing, leaf-ears, but I’ll have you ken Poggendoobler is a perfectly respectable name.”
Saskia struggled to suppress a laugh.
“This is no game,” said Garrain. “Those were Saskia’s words. I’ve never heard of this…Poggendoobler. Although I do agree with her: it’s an utterly preposterous name.”
“Yeah, you tell her!” said Saskia.
“Feh!” said Ruhildi. “I’ll not hear another word on the matter from the likes of you, Garri. Now there’s a silly little name, if ever I heard one.”
“As I’ve told you several times already, my name is Garrain.”
“Aye, whatever you say, Garri.”
Saskia cleared her metaphorical throat. Perhaps her real one too. It was hard to tell what was going on back there. “Could you get back on topic? Or would you two rather just bicker about names all day? Sheesh, if I knew it was such a contentious subject, I’d never have brought it up.”
With an audible grinding of his teeth, Garrain said to the dwarf, “My point is: she wanted me to pass on those exact words to prove to you that I speak for her. Does that convince you?” Saskia heard the unspoken addendum: Or am I losing my mind?
Ruhildi was silent for a long moment, a frown creasing her brow. “Aye, mayhap.”
Saskia let out a breath. “Frocking finally! Now tell Ruhildi I’m so sorry for what I did to her.”
“Would that you’d done a more thorough job,” muttered Garrain.
“Tell her!”
He did as she asked, and Ruhildi said, “It weren’t your fault, Sashki. You don’t need my forgiveness, but for what it’s worth, you have it.”
The relief Saskia felt upon hearing her words was palpable. Ruhildi didn’t blame her, and they knew what they had to do. She could only hope that between the two of them and their pets, they could subdue her feral self without anyone else getting hurt.
When they came back out of the tunnel, she tried to locate herself on her minimap. The range of the map was only a few kilometres down here, but maybe…
She realised that Garrain had once again stopped dead in his tracks. He was hyperventilating and blinking rapidly, while turning his gaze from side to side.
“Garrain…can you…see this?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, she said, “The circular thingy in the lower-right quadrant of your vision.”
“What are you doing to me, demon?” he gasped.
“Okay, wow, this is unexpected,” she said. He started making retching sounds, so she added, “But there’s no need to be alarmed!”
“Says the demon in my head,” he muttered.
“I didn’t intend for you to see it, but this…well this is a little tool I can call upon. It’s just what it looks like: a map. Pretty nifty, huh? I can also do this…” She activated her darksight, turning the cavern around them as bright as daylight. This brought on another fit of heavy breathing. “…and this.” She called up the overlay that highlighted and labelled some of the flora and fauna and other objects in her vision.
Her view tilted up, before dissolving into white noise. She heard a thud as his head hit the ground.
“Oops,” she said. “Guess I should’ve taken it a bit slower.”
It was only after her next awakening that Saskia was able to get a good look at the minimap.
“No sign of me on the map,” she said. “It’s got a pretty limited range down here. Guess you’ll have to keep looking.”
Now that she could communicate, Saskia felt far more engaged with what was going on around her. Perhaps as a consequence of this, she found herself staying awake longer, with shorter ‘absences’ in between wakeful periods, even as she began to lose all sense of her own body.
Whenever she was awake, Saskia kept an eye on her minimap, hoping to catch sight of herself. There was a lot of ground to cover though, and Garrain and Ruhildi could only suffer so much of this humidity before they had to retreat to the now-vacant deepworm cavern to rest.
“You sound rather too comfortable with the prospect of having us do battle with you,” said Garrain one morning as they headed back out to resume the hunt.
“Well I’m worried that I’ll hurt Ruhildi again, of course,” she said. Then added, half-heartedly, “Or hurt you, I suppose.”
“You’re not concerned for your own safety?” he asked. “Attempting to subdue you without causing injury would be…problematic…”
She gave a single-syllable laugh. “If getting swallowed by a deepworm didn’t kill me, I doubt I have much to worry about from you.”
In the end, the search lasted three and a half days before they found her atop a small rocky pinnacle to the west, gnawing on the mangled remains of an oversized lizard, amidst a pile of shattered egg shells; their contents spilled out across the lichen-covered rock.
Dogs above! she thought. Did I do that? Bad Saskia! Wait…have I grown?
A thick outer layer of what looked like polished granite had spread across her entire body. That might account for the extra bulk, but she also seemed a head or two taller than before. Maybe it was just a trick of perspective; a result of seeing herself with eyes that weren’t her own. Except this wasn’t the first time she’d seen herself through Garrain’s eyes.
By chance, they’d caught up with her while she was facing directly away from them. Saskia’s sense of hearing and smell were pretty good, so it would only be a matter of time until she noticed them, but until then…
“Okay, I don’t think I’ve—she’s—crap, this is so confusing—seen you yet,” said Saskia. “You might be able to sneak up and…”
Ruhildi’s zombie entourage surged forward. Feral Saskia spun about, roaring.
