Dungeon 42

Courier

Chapter 145

Felix Swiftpaw was a great many things, in his right mind wasn’t presently one of them. A gorgeous map in hand, he’d set out on the request of Hetcha to make contact with a hermit living at the foot of the Lorel mountains. A strange choice of location at the best of times, standing as a natural barrier to the demon lands as they did.

Getting out of Stromholt wasn’t terribly hard, the border patrol wasn’t one for imagination. Felix had simply waited until night and used his better low-light vision to sneak between patrols.

Passing through the Marrowane swamp to get to Hetcha’s camp had been more difficult. The swamp wasn’t well mapped and even if it had been, she’d hidden off the known trails. A precaution natural to someone on the lamb from the entirety of a kingdom.

Marrowane wasn’t close even to the worst place Felix had ever traversed for business or pure curiosity. The humidity had been uncomfortable, but it was the biting insects that had been the annoying bit. Despite his normally protective pelt, they’d seemed to nestle in and find the softer skin beneath without error.

Wandering now in a tractless desert Felix knew he was supposed to be doing something. What exactly, he wasn’t sure, but it was important. Or he’d thought it was, possibly been told it was. His mind refused to yield any kind of coherent answer and he waived the nuance thoughts off like he had the insects. Following the map at the very least was something he had to do.

No matter what else might or might not be true about his mission, Felix needed to find the location marked on the map. That was where the map maker would be. The map maker whose feet he planned to prostrate himself at and beg to be taken apprentice by.

That Catkin weren’t built for desert travel, like everything else, was a thought Felix didn’t register. No more than the dismal amount of food and water he’d been ingesting. His journey was all that mattered, his body was secondary. He felt no particular need for those basic staples of existence. As if in tune with his quest, he carried on for hours tirelessly.

Distorted thoughts crystalizing, the euphoria keeping Felix afloat started to fade. He’d come to an entrance of sorts, one leading into a natural stone labyrinth. This place had a look of danger to it, unlike the unremembered places he’d passed through before.

Felix shivered as he entered, his lips feeling strangely numb and his body slick with sweat matted his fur. Something was wrong, had to be, and this certainty was accompanied by a feeling of eyes. He was being watched as he progressed through the shade of the stones.

Moment to moment, Felix’s certainty of being watched by something malignant grew. Something silent that managed to flit soundlessly from shadow to shadow among the stones. He couldn’t guess its size; it moved too fast for him to see more than a flickering at the edge of his vision. What he did know on a primal level was it was hungry.

Having no interest in becoming the beast's sustenance, Felix took off running. Heedless of the screaming of his body and the lack of any idea where he was going, he went as fast as he could. A speed more than ill-advised in such terrain, as he scraped between obstacles or slammed into them, only to keep going.

Felix could hear the tearing of cloth and leather as his clothes and gear, already in a sorry state, were tattered further. He didn’t care and kept on, knowing only death awaited him if he stopped. The thing in pursuit wanted him, flesh and bone, and he knew it as surely as the flavor of sunlight.

Map in hand Felix ran, hardly registering when he saw and subsequently ran into a man in a fighter's gear. One who looked puzzled and was entirely too light for his apparent size as he was pushed aside far too easily. He’d have laughed at the expression if he wasn’t being chased by death incarnate.

Felix hazily realized he was surrounded on three sides, having run into a blind alley. Retreat was impossible, but he could see a cave ahead. He didn’t want to take shelter, death would only find him all the quicker. Still, it was possible it would provide an exit.

Hearing the beast grow closer, his heart pounding hard enough to deafen him, Felix dove for the cave. A moment later he wasn’t engulfed in the darkness of the earth, but lying on his back. The sky above him was a painfully bright knife slash of whirling shades of blue.

The man Felix had run into was there again, gazing down at him. Still curious rather than upset, his blue eyes almost as bright as the sky. Beside him an orange-eyed child stood, face scrunched in incredulity. Or possibly a very small woman.

“What the fuck?” someone asked. The voice not seeming to issue from either person Felix could see. A soft poke caught his attention and he was just barely able to turn his head and see a violet-eyed human woman. One who was poking him with a stick for some reason. How very impolite.

“He just… who throws themselves headfirst into a wall?” the little woman said.

Felix tried to move, to get up and offer his name, as that seemed like an invitation to introduce himself. Instead, he just let out a weak and pained groan. Everything hurt, to the point where his body felt like a prolonged scream of agony and he was hot. As if he were boiling beneath his skin.

“Think he’ll get up again?” one of them asked.

“No point in waiting to see. I imagine the mistress will want to talk to him and we’d best hurry or he’ll die like this,” the little woman said.

Felix felt no small amount of annoyance at the insinuation that he’d die. As far as he was concerned he’d just outrun death. So he could only wonder at the hubris of this little thing who dared suggest his whole body being on fire internally would do the task instead. It was an annoyance he wasn’t able to give voice as unconsciousness claimed him once more.