War of Attrition | By : vivarose Category: +M through R > Ninety Nine Nights Views: 4339 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Ninety Nine Nights, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
" " human language
// // Goblin language
thoughts will be italicized, regardless
of language
Disclaimer: Don't own, but I love
whoring it like I do :-D Oh and Magistra is of my creation, I also
took a few liberties with the Goblin culture and such as it will be
become very apparent in later chapters.
War of Attrition: Chapter 4
***
Dwingvatt scowled, he'd been doing a
lot of that lately. Once the council had arrived, he'd recounted what
had happened to them, his troops naturally backing him up when
questioned. The council had gone into debate a few hours ago, his
soldiers had been dismissed back to camp and it had been requested
that he stay there. Now Dwingvatt sat in the rapidly fading light
waiting for the council's decision, lying some feet away from him was
Death's Red Mistress. Someone had covered her with a blanket after
the council had looked at her body unbelievingly. This couldn't be
the Temple Knight that had led the attack on Fort Wyandeek, could it?
This thin, bruised creature? Impossible. But it was her, the armor
and sword proved it, or just seemed to reinforce the disturbing
matter that she'd allowed herself to be captured and stripped of her
armor. Then there was also the matter of her killing her brother...
So much for you two being the dynamic duo that saves the human
race. Dwingvatt looked at the still form, her chest rising and
falling in an unsteady fashion beneath the blanket. She'd not stirred
once since her last lapse in consciousness, at one point Dwingvatt
had wondered if she stopped breathing and had crept over to feel her
pulse to see if she was still alive. Not that he actually cared about
what happened to her, or something ridiculous like that. Why
couldn't I just have killed you? It would have made things so much
easier. But one couldn't look at the frail human and not feel a
twang of pity for her.
The Temple Knight shifted in her prone
position, and Dwingvatt's hands automatically went to his swords. She
moved slightly again, and he could hear her whimpering softly. Moving
silently, Dwingvatt crouched next to her, an arm's length away and
stared at her his pointed ears twitching curiously. She was
trembling, sweat had beaded her forehead, her body curled in a fetal
position. Yet despite that she was unconscious, her eyes were darting
frantically beneath their lids.
"no," she whispered.
Dwingvatt cocked his head to the side, was she dreaming? He stayed
silent as her dialog with her dream continued. "no...no stop! no
more!" her voice broke weakly. Suddenly her body thrashed out at
the imaginary thing that tormented her. Her limbs spasming and hands
clawing at the invisible enemy. Her head jerked backwards with such
forced that Dwingvatt was sure that she would snap her own neck. The
fallen Knight did this a few times before she exhausted herself and
lay whimpering. Her cropped hair had fallen in her face and she began
to claw at it, trying to pull away from it as if the cropped auburn
locks were cobwebs. The tactic would have been amusing in any other
situation, and had she not begun to bruise her skin, her nails not
sharp enough to tear and cut.
Cautiously, Dwingvatt reached out and
gently brushed her sweat soaked hair from her face, tucking the oddly
cut layers behind her ear in an almost tender manner. Immediately the
human relaxed and the frantic clawing stopped, she looked
surprisingly vulnerable like this, not a concept that Dwingvatt
easily associated with the human.
"are you going to kill me?"
her soft voice made him jump back with surprise, her aquamarine eyes
staring at him, half-lidded with delirium.
"I thought you were unconscious,"
he countered, watching with surprise as she seemed to visibly shrink,
like a cowering dog.
"i was.." she swallowed, her
eyes closing briefly then reopening. "i'm sorry for killing your
brother." Dwingvatt could only stare at her, unable to hide his
surprise at the apology. He was about to dismiss it as part of her
delirium, yet despite the now lunatic quality in her eyes, she
appeared sincere. The white Goblin didn't know how to react, but the
human's body relaxed, her eyes closing again. She couldn't have
meant it. The girl is mad... he rested the back of his hand
against her forehead. A fever, but that was expected with her wounds
and her starved appearance. Reaching into his satchel he pulled out
what looked like a small brown marble, and making sure no one was
looking, opened the girl's mouth and placed it under her tongue. He
didn't know if the Goblin medicine would work on humans, but for some
reason he didn't want her to die. Not just yet.
***
//You can't be serious.//
//I'm afraid we are.//
//But why me? Can't someone else do
it?//
//You because you know the most about
her, besides no one else speaks the human tongue. And no someone else
can't do it,// Dwykfarrio said firmly to the protesting young Goblin
before him. The council had decided on the fate of the Temple Knight:
they would hold her captive, heal her and resocialize her. How long
how long they would hold her for was still undetermined, but once she
was released back to the humans, the person who was once their enemy
would become a useful ally and if she was returned to power would be
able to control things in favor of the Goblins. If they resocialized
her correctly that was, which would be difficult and interesting. But
the truly interesting part of the social experiment was that they had
decided to assign her to Dwingvatt's care. The albino Goblin may have
only been fifteen and out for the human's blood, but somehow it
seemed like a perfect plan. Besides in truth Dwingvatt was the only
one who spoke the human language, that and he wasn't an idiot about
women, despite his discriminated status. It probably helped the
matter that he'd been picked on so much as a welp and become close to
one of the village healers, thus the art had rubbed off on the young
Goblin. Dwykfarrio knew though that even if the white Goblin returned
a war hero, he would still never find a mate and that was where the
trouble lay. Dwingvatt should've been betrothed years ago, but the
death of his family and his white skin had prevented that. It would
be a shame for such a good bloodline to go to waste...Dwykfarrio
sighed, the young Goblin was still adamantly refusing to care for the
human, teenagers.
//Dwingvatt!// the Goblin king slammed
his hands down on the make shift table before him, causing it to
wobble and then collapse; much like the human army had done once
they'd found the blue Temple Knight's body and the abused armor of
Death's Red Mistress. And like the human army, the young Goblin
before the council quickly withdrew, but crossed his arms over his
chest and laid his pointed ears back. Instead of a full retreat the
white Goblin was sulking.
//You will care for the human! That is
the final say! You will resocialize her to our way of life and you
will do so without causing her any additional harm or neglect! We
have a chance to turn our greatest enemy into our ally, do not fuck
this up!// Dwykfarrio yelled, watching the younger Goblin flinch
slightly at the reprimand.
//Yes sir,// Dwingvatt replied sulkily,
not looking at his king. The last bit hadn't been quite fair, very
rarely did Dwingvatt do anything sub-par, but regardless the
importance of this working needed to be emphasized.
//You may leave with her tonight so
your arrival will not be in broad daylight, as I know that would be
scandalous. The rest of the troops will come home in intervals,
however I assume your squad has dutifully spread gossip to the entire
army by now what about what has transpired, so there will be minimal
explaining for you to do.// The young Goblin nodded at this, scuffing
his feet on the dirt of the forest floor.
//Any questions?//
//How long do I have to put up with
her?//
//As long as it takes. And keep in mind
I will personally know if any foul play occurs,// Dwykfarrio warned.
//I'm not going to follow her brother's
suite if that is what you're referring to,// Dwingvatt growled
softly. //I have more sense than that. Can I go now?// he looked at
the king, still displeased, but accepting of the fact that he would
be care taker to his brother's killer.
//Yes,// the king motioned, and the
white Goblin left, hearing one of the council calling after him,
reminding him that foul play included neglect. I can't just ignore
her, no gods forbid. I've actually got to interact with the human,
Dwingvatt made a soft growling noise of frustration as he picked up
the unconscious human. Her fever had gone down, which would make her
easier to travel with, regardless he did not look forward to caring
for her. Someone had packed his gear and brought it up for him,
sparing the young Goblin the hassle of having to go down to the
Goblin encampment and endure questions and pestering of his soldiers.
But the fact that someone had possessed the sense to do so meant that
it was highly likely that the meeting that had just taken place and
the decision that had been finalize was far from secret.
//Great,// he muttered, shouldering his
pack. //Fucking lovely.// He looked once more at the limp body he
held, then at the night sky feeling more lost than he ever had
before. Brother what would you do? Dwingvatt prayed silently,
ask he subconsciously activated his Orb Spark and began the trip
home.
***
The lights marking the edge of one of
the Goblin villages glimmered distantly through the trees. Dwingvatt
sighed, the village had been reinforced since the humans had been so
near, those reinforcements would make harder for him to get in
unnoticed, especially with the Temple Knight. Dwingvatt looked at
where he'd laid her on the ground when he'd stopped to catch his
breath. She was still there, the medicine he'd given her last night
had contained a mild sedative, she should've been out only for a few
hours, but he guessed that her extended lack of consciousness was due
to the medicine having a heightened effect on her weakened body. Not
that he was complaining, he greatly preferred the human like this,
she couldn't kill him if she was unconscious.
Dwingvatt yawned, he was tired after
having traveled full speed with the human plus his gear for over
twenty-four hours straight. Even if the Orb Spark gave him the
extension on his strength and speed, it still drain him. Crouching
down he lifted the human's limp form up into his arms, he would go
through the east side of the village, his house was close to there
and the fruit grove was relatively unguarded and would be empty at
this time of night, the moon said it was nearly three. Shaking sleep
away he began the final stretch.
Dwingvatt like many of the other
survivors of the human raid on Fort Wyandeek had flock to the main
Goblin cities in the Forest of the Lost. Naturally the cities
couldn't hold everyone, so smaller villages cropped out in a series
of concentric circles from the cities as more refugees came in from
other human attacks. The one Dwingvatt had settled in was on the
outer most rim of the circles. If the Temple Knights had not fallen
when they did, the village would be in ashes now, with everyone dead,
especially if Death's Red Mistress had had her way. Thank the Dark
for her weakness. Her terrible secret had possibly saved his entire
race...Dwingvatt shuddered, wondering briefly how long she had
endured her brother's hateful treatment. The words that he'd watched
the brother yell at the sister, the same human words Dwingvatt had
taunted her with, they didn't translate into the Goblin language, so
understanding them completely was difficult, mostly because their
meaning didn't exist. There were female Goblins who's profession it
was to offer intimate companionship, but it was a respected
profession, a calling that was revered on the level of the priests
and healers, and more often than not, they did end up settling down
with a mate and having welps. But that was the closest thing he could
think of that would match the human words. Except when the humans
used them there was no respect, no admiration only hate.
Wait a minute! I'm not actually
feeling sorry for her am I? Dwingvatt stopped as he reached the
edge of the grove, panting for breath. Gah I am! By the gods I
can't win here! The white Goblin sighed heavily and began the
short walk to his house, keeping to the shadows. He noted that most
of the gardens and fields had been planted and were sprouting up
small green shots. He was behind on his planting and was sure that
his own field would be over run by weeds by now, such was the cost of
being gone for three years fighting the war. Hell he'd hardly had
time to build his house before he had left. Sure there had been
chances to come back, but he had nothing to come back to and it
would've meant giving up his quest for revenge. It wasn't like anyone
would've missed him, well except for maybe Magistra, an old healer
and one of the survivors from Fort Wyandeek. She might miss him, he
always had come running her when he was a welp after being picked on
by the others, the old healer had been like a mother to him.
Stopping for the last time, now in
front of a Dwingvatt managed to pull a rusty iron key from his
satchel and fit it into the lock on his front door. He put the human
down again, as opening the door would be the most tricky part and he
would need both his hands for this. Gritting his teeth and hoping the
door wouldn't screech and pushed it open. The gods were with him for
once in the past few days and the lock and door both opened
soundlessly. Then he noticed the note that had been wedged under the
door, picking it up he read it:
Dwingvatt, I had a feeling you would
be home soon so I had the door and lock fixed up for you. I hope you
finally found what you needed.
Magistra
The white Goblin smiled and folded the
note back up tucking it into his satchel with his key and pushed the
door open the rest of the way as he picked the human back up and was
about to enter but he caught sight of his own field in the moon
light. It had been over run by weeds alright, and small trees and
several poorly constructed huts. The welps had taken his field over
as their playground and when he reclaimed it they would be furious
and sulk for a while, but then get over it. Dwingvatt seemed to be a
magnet for the young Goblins as much as their parents disliked it.
Shaking his head in defeat, he took the human inside and shut the
door.
Once inside he placed her still wrapped
in the blanket in a small side room, deposited his gear in a corner
of the main room, he would put it away properly later. Padding softly
on the dirt floor to his room, Dwingvatt stripped off his armor and
wolf cloak in one fluid motion leaving only his pants on and fell
back onto his bed. A small cloud of dust rose up as he did, making
him sneeze. He pulled the dust covered top blanket off and tossed it
on the floor, curling up under the other skins that made up his bed,
he would wash the other blanket later. He would deal with everything
else later.
***
Later however came much too soon.
Inphyy's eyes opened and she found
herself in a small room, sunlight peering in from a high window, it
was only an hour or two after dawn. She was sweating and weakly
shoved off the blanket that was covering her naked form. But then she
was cold. Then hot. Then cold again. Wiping the sweat off her
forehead she looked at the room she was in, her eyes quickly finding
the door. Get out. Get away. Away from Aspharr-wait where is he?
Away from the Goblins--wait where's the white one who's sworn to kill
me? Where am I? Inphyy fought down the steadily building panic in
her chest, her blurry vision and aching body only adding her her
apprehension. She placed her hands on the floor to push herself to
her feet, but her broken wrist sent jolts of pain shooting up her
arm. Giving a small cry she collapsed, clutching the wounded limb to
her chest. It was taking incredible effort for her to breathe, for
her to hold her eyes open. Now her body was hot again, as if she had
been laid down on burning coals. It was suffocating, like a heavy
weight on her chest. She could feel her limbs spasming, but couldn't
stop them. I'm going to die, she realized and strangled cry
left her throat as she also realized that she was terrified.
Dwingvatt's ears perked in his sleep,
something had just cried out, but his sleep-fogged brain didn't want
to process it. He rolled over onto his back rubbing his eyes.
Sunlight was creeping through the drapes on the window and the white
Goblin had the strangest feeling that he was forgetting something. A
small cry came again, it sounded distinctly like...Oh shit,
realized as he sat up. Death's Red Mistress! Getting up he
went to the room where he'd left her and froze at the sight that
greeted him. Her fever had gotten out of control now that the
medicine had worn off and small seizures were starting. Oh
gods...she's dying! Medicine would not work now, it wouldn't
bring her temperature down fast enough, her mind would be damaged
beyond repair. Picking her up with some difficulty, he ran with her
to the bathroom. Lying her down on the floor Dwingvatt pulled open
the pump that brought water to the large stone bath tub, then went
back to the human. Keep her conscience...keep her awake...what did
Magistra do when Dwinga had that fever?
He knelt next to her cupped her face
with his hand,
"Hey! Hey! Look at me!" he
said, her eyes fluttered open as she collapsed from another bout of
the violent tremors. Shit, Dwingvatt groaned running his hands
through his dreadlocks in frustration, as her eyes began to roll back
in her head. Talk. I've got to get her talking. "Listen
to me, you've got to keep your eyes open!" he held her head
again to keep it from cracking back against the stone cobbled floor.
Again her eyes opened meeting his and she tried to pull away from him
but Dwingvatt held her in place.
"No, don't do that!" he
snapped and she whimpered softly. In a gentler tone he spoke in her
ear like he had on the battle field, but made an effort to keep his
voice soothing. "Human, what is your name?"
"I-Inphyy."
"Okay. Okay, Inphyy, How old are
you?"
"S-seventeen," she gave a
small cry and her eyes rolled back in her head again.
"No, no, no! Inphyy don't do that!
Open your eyes!" Dwingvatt felt himself panicking now, he was
losing her and it would not go well for him if she died. He looked at
the bath tub, it was only a few inches full. Not enough. He shook the
naked girl,
"Open your eyes, come on! Hey tell
me...ummm," he grasped at straws to for something to keep her
talking. "Is there some sort of honor code that the Temple
Knights follow?"
"Y-yes."
"Tell me every fucking detail of
it," he said looking at the water level again.
"Those of the Light, avoid ye the
Dark," she whispered, her eyes barely open. "Those of the
Dark, avoid ye the Light. As has been our code since the War of
Division." Dwingvatt gathered her thin body up in his arms as
she spoke,
"Fucking lovely," he said off
handedly and dropped her into the cold water. The cold knocked the
wind out of her and she thrashed about in the water gasping for
breath trying to get out.
"No, you stay in there,"
Dwingvatt leaned over into the tub and held her down, but that tactic
backfired as she clung to him and tried to climb up his body to get
out of the water and ended up pulling him into the cold water with
her.
"It's cold!" she cried out
weakly, trying to cling to him and get away from the cold water at
the same time.
"No shit its cold you stupid
human!" Dwingvatt yelled, his patience finally coming to an end.
He straddled her hips, effectively pinning her to the bottom of the
bath tub. Then he took her head in his hands again and pressing his
elbows down on her chest began to force her down into the water.
"No! No don't!" she screamed.
Her eyes were wide open now, still tinted with delirium, but the cold
water was doing its job and her fever was coming down she would be
sane again in a few moments.
"If I don't your brain will
fucking fry!" he shouted back at her, shaking her, splashing
water around as he did. She was fighting him now, her good hand was
clawing at his bare chest and at his face and neck; screaming as she
did. Dwingvatt's ears twitched back, he didn't like the sound of her
screaming. Death's Red Mistress wasn't supposed to scream, or be
afraid. She wasn't supposed to be vulnerable or hurt or have a soul-
"Argh! Fuck!" Dwingvatt
released his hold on the human and clutched one of his ears. Death's
Red Mistress in her frantic panic had clawed one of of the white
Goblin's highly sensitive ears. Then he realized that he had actually
forced her all the way underwater by accident in his panic as she
pushed her head out of the water, sputtering and coughing, struggling
to sit up. For a moment neither of them spoke as they stared at each
other gasping for breath, Death's Red Mistress clinging to the side
of the bath tub with her good arm, Dwingvatt clutching his ear, blood
dribbling through his fingers, as red welts appeared on the rest of
his torso from the Inphyy's scratching.
"Get off of me," Inphyy said
suddenly, her voice low and icy.
"Excuse me?" Dwingvatt
blinked, surprised by her sudden boldness. He took his hand off his
ear looking at it, there was blood on it, he looked back at the
Temple Knight beneath him. "I really don't think you are in any
position to be giving orders. Fuck that hurt," he touched his
ear again wincing slightly. Inphyy bit her lip and closed her eyes,
trying to turn away from him.
"Hey," Dwingvatt splashed
water at her. "What's your problem? I just saved your ass from
death by seizures and your brain self-frying!"
"You should have just let me die,"
she looked back at him, her eyes had that haunted hollow look again.
"No, that would have been the easy
route to take." Silence followed this. Both of them caught in a
silent staring match. Inphyy felt her heart racing. She knew full
well that she was a prisoner of war. She had no rights, no will now,
all the independence of a piece of furniture. It also meant that he
was her master and it was only a matter of time before he...Well it
would be well within the white Goblin's rights...Just so long as he
didn't pretend that it wasn't going to happen. That was what truly
killed her, because each time she would believe it. Cling to the hope
that it was the truth... Aspharr had pretended, and that only made it
worse when it actually did. But he was dead now though. Dead by her
hand. Now she had gotten handed off to the the Goblin who had been
out for her blood. Whatever torment he devised, she deserved it the
gods would not let her escape from this mortal realm without bring
back on her vengeance for the families she'd destroyed and the blood
she'd spilt in the Orb War...
"Just do it," she whispered,
closing her eyes again. Dwingvatt blinked again and looked at the
thin human in confusion.
"Do what?" he asked, one hand
on his still bleeding ear, his hips still pinning her down to the
bathtub. He stared at her as she didn't try to get away again but
wrapped her arms around her chest, hugging herself.
"Don't act like you don't know,"
she whispered, hating herself with every passing moment. "It is
within your right, why else would you still be pinning my hips down?"
Dwingvatt processed this for a moment and a look of disgust crossed
his face.
"Is that what they tell you about
us?" he growled, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at
him, ignoring her flinch. "They tell you that we-" he
struggled to find the correct words that translated.
"Rape prisoners," she
supplied the phrase softly, her eyes not meeting his. "No. It
applies to whoever takes prisoners, race disregarded. That is the way
war works, I am your prisoner and at your mercy. It is your right."
Dwingvatt opened his mouth, then closed
it in astonishment, releasing her and sitting back up. Gods, they
really have fucked with your mind..
"Inphyy," Dwingvatt forced
himself to speak softly, how odd it was to use her real name. "I'm
not going to rape you."
"Liar," she whispered,
flinching away as she did. Lie just like Aspharr did. He promised
me that it would stop. That he loved me and couldn't bear to see me
in pain anymore. That things would be different from now on. That
lasted all of four hours... Water splashed her face again and she
felt the pressure holding her hips down being released and then she
was pulled up into a sitting position.
"Inphyy, open your eyes," he
said, and unwillingly she obeyed and found him inches from her face.
Instinctively she tried to pull away only to find him holding her in
place again. "I am not your brother. Nor do I abide by whatever
so-called "rules of war" bullshit that you have been told.
I will not rape you or force you into anything. I am caring for you
strictly because I was ordered to do so." Dwingvatt said
sternly, fighting down the urge to slap the trembling human, which
would be counter productive. But he reminded himself. This
is what she's been told, she's never known any different.
"Do we understand each other?"
She quickly nodded in response it his question, wanting nothing more
than to die at that very moment.
"Good," Dwingvatt said.
"However I suspect you still don't believe me, do you?"
Inphyy shook her head and Dwingvatt sighed. "I don't know what
they told you or what your brother did to you, but by the Dark it has
fucked with your mind." He let her go and and climbed out of the
bath tub, feeling her head for a moment, her fever had broken, but it
wouldn't stay that way for long, she needed medicine and quickly.
"Stay here," he ordered her,
leaving the room. Once he was gone, Inphyy buried her face in her
hands and sobbed. Desperately she wanted to believe him, never mind
who he was. Never mind that they were enemies. But to just once have
one night where she didn't lie awake dreading...Even if he later
killed her, it would be merciful. But why had she been spared in the
first place? Why was he of all the Goblins in charge of caring for
her? Wouldn't wiping out the threat have been more effective? Her
head hurt now and was feeling warm, she cupped some of the bath water
in her hands and splashed it on her face. Then it occurred to her
that she didn't even know the name of her captor.
***
Dwingvatt cracked open the wax seal on
a chest that held linens. The seal had been to keep moths out while
he was gone. The chest was one of the few things that had what was
left of his possessions from Fort Wyandeek. Opening it he took out a
few towels and blankets, closing the heavy wood with an irritable
'snap!'. She really expected to be raped. How long has this been
happening? Dwingvatt shook his head in frustration, torn between
feeling sympathy for the woman and rage that he couldn't just kill
her and avenge his brother's death. Walking back to the room he'd
initially placed her in he arranged the blankets on the floor so that
she had some sort of makeshift bed that would pad the ground. He
would need to get clothes for her too, he realized as he pulled
another pill from his satchel. Hopefully Magistra would be able to
help him with that. Walking back to the bathroom her heard her
crying. What did one have to do to break someone like her? With all
her power and status how had her brother managed to destroy her so
completely? Things like this didn't happen over night...Dwingvatt
entered the bathroom and lifted her out of the tub, wrapping her in a
towel and placing her on a stool.
"Here, take this," he handed
her what looked like a brown marble. "Keep it under your tongue.
It will keep your fever down and make you sleep." Inphyy looked
at him suspiciously but didn't argue. But once she had put it in,
quickly took it back out of her mouth,
"You asked me my name, but didn't
tell me yours. What are you called?" she asked quickly, in a
timid manner, then popped the pill back into her mouth. Dwingvatt had
to fight down the urge to chuckle, her antics were almost cute.
Almost.
"My name is Dwingvatt," he
said, watching her forehead wrinkle as she mentally repeated it a few
times then nodded. "Alright then. Now that you're not going to
die on me, we are both going back to sleep," he said, then
picked her up before she find anything to protest about and took her
to her room, placing her on the makeshift bed.
"Unless the world is ending or you
start dying again, don't wake me up," Dwingvatt said to her,
shutting the door. As he did, he sighed heavily, he needed more
sleep, four hours wasn't going to cut it. The day was lost anyway. He
would finish her other care later, her wounds and her wrist. But now
he needed sleep then everything would make more sense. Just as he was
about to collapse back onto his bed someone knocked on the front
door. Dwingvatt groaned, everything was against him today.
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