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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.

Chapter List
- 1-War of Attrition
- 2-ch2
- 3-ch3
- 4-ch4
- 5-ch5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-ch next one
- 9-ch 9
- 10-chapter 10
- 11-11
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter 7

A/N: Again sorry for the long time between updates, I do
eventually want to finish this, although from the looks of things it may take
me a couple
years @_@ At this point however I expect the plot to move
along a bit faster and the chapters to return to their original length. However
I've lost
my original notes for the story outline so no guarantees.
*hides*

----------------------------

A heavy and loud clanking sound shocked Inphyy awoke from
her sleep. For a moment she lay still, gasping for breath. Her mouth was sticky
and dry, and her first thought was water. Looking about she found herself in
the room that she'd originally awoken in when she was brought to...wherever she
was. Mostly likely a goblin settlement or outpost, but she wasn't entirely
sure. The human sat up and found a tray with food and water just as she had
earlier and ate after a brief moment of hesitation.

Carefully she stood, her body not as weak as it had been the
past day, which was startling to her, and made her way out of the room.
Sunlight filtered through the windows and it seemed to be about mid-afternoon.
There was no sign of her captor, but the outside door had been left ajar.
Cautiously she pushed the door open and squinted against the
bright sunlight. After the spots cleared from her vision she saw a dirt road
leading to the north across a mixed expanse of dense green forest and unused
field. The road was lined with a crude wooden fence and lead the eye to the
woods, from witch thin trails of smoke rose in the distance, and a warm breeze
pulled at the skirt she was wearing. It was quiet, the lazy part of the
afternoon. But the peace was disrupted by a sharp scraping sound of metal
against rock and Inphyy jumped at the noise. The sound repeated itself again and
began a steady consistent rhythm, it reminded Inphyy of the metal workers in
the human cities, but without the smog and heat of the kiln.

The sound came from the south and cautiously proceeding, she
found a small footpath that looked as if it had just recently came into use.
The grasses on either side of it were waist high and further down seemed to all
but engulf the small trail.

I could escape now. No one is here. I could get
away... Inphyy looked back at the main road and then to the forest
some hundred meters away to her west. She had no clue where she was, but her
best hope was to head westward the opposite direction of the original war
campaign. But what then?
She had no supplies and way to present herself for an
audience with the Maiden of the Light. The punishment for failure was
great...Inphyy shuddered and pushed the though away. The Maiden was harsh and
swift with her own brand of public justice, there was little wonder why she and
Aspharr had been such great friends. Shaking herself from her thoughts, Inphyy
looked out once more at the westward woods and then turned away from them.
Carefully she started down the foot path, the sun was past the midway mark for
the day and the heat would be at its peak soon, because despite popular belief
the earth was warmest not at noon but in the few hours following it, once the
heat has had a chance to build. Inphyy let her hand trail idly against the
grass that formed the tight perimeter of the path. Her bare feet followed the
earthen path on their own and her mind drifted into an auto-pilot of sorts, not
sure what she intended to do, nor sure where she was going. The sun was warm on
her bare arms and the breeze made ripples along the deep green and golden
grasses, speckled in them were small flowers. For a moment she wondered if this
was how the peasant girls spent their childhood, those who weren't born for
combat and to shed blood. Since she was a small child, her days and nights had
been filled with battle training. At two her father began teaching her chess,
the most basic principles of all combat strategy. Mentally outsmart your opponent and you win, even if with one
pawn. But then the war had resparked. She'd seen her father twice after that.
Once when she was seven and officially inducted into the apprenticeship for the
Temple Knights and her father remarried. And again when he was in his coffin.
She had been ten, only a few short years from becoming an official Knight. She
had thrown herself into her training. Her strengths were in commanding and in
long armed combat, in close combat or hand-to-hand, lost of her sword or a
lance her stepbrother had easily overpowered her. Eventually she neglected
closed quarters combat all together.

The grass gave way to a sudden patch of forest, the path
continuing through the increasingly dense foliage. Mostly untamed grass and
bushes, a tree was leaning over the path in such a way that it defied gravity,
and would continue to do so until its roots rotted out or a large storm came.
Inphyy stepped around it, watching the ground now as it had begun to display
the tops of rocks causing an uneven surface that was presenting a perfect
opportunity for her to twist her ankle. The scraping clanking noise that had
initially awoken her was no longer present, in fact little noise was present
save for a trickling stream that seemed to be coming from her right. Continuing
on the path a bit more the water grew louder and eventually she came upon a
small crossing. It, like so much else she'd encountered, was crudely built, simply
two boards laid over the water, which in itself Inphyy didn't think was more
than seven inches deep. Looking up stream she saw a collection of small
boulders that made a miniature waterfall into a shallow pond that was maybe
eight feet across. Down stream she saw the little creek deepen and widen then
clash with more boulders as it narrowed and picked up speed curving around a
bend out of sight. Inphyy crossed the makeshift bridge quickly and made her way
down the small bank to the edge of the creek. The water was clear to the
bottom, which was littered with rocks of assorted sizes, some algae grew on the
larger rocks where the water lapped at it.

Cupping her hands carefully Inphyy scooped some water up in
her hands and drank it. It had an odd taste, perhaps from the rocks or minerals
it had traveled through to get above ground? But not a taste that caused any
concern, and she drank more, not having realized how thirsty she was until the
liquid was in her body. The water was cool and fresh, giving her a rejuvenated
feeling. Slowly she stood, reluctant to leave the peaceful setting, but not
wanting to be caught unawares. She scolded herself for letting her mind wander;
she had no distinct memory of her journey and had not tracked how far she'd
walked. But the sound of metal scraping earth and rock had picked up again, it
was subtler now, and Inphyy wondered how she'd heard it in the first place. She
returned to the path and continued along it, the trees began to rapidly thin
and fallen ones pointed directly to the clearing. A small shed was in sight and
like everything else, it was put together either poorly or hastily with scrap
wood, like making a chair of splinters. The sun was lower in the sky now but
still cast the clearing in full light.

The land stretched for roughly an acre, scattered about it
were large bushes that had been pruned back and next to each bush were several
baskets. The land furthest from where she stood had been cleared and the rich
black soil had just been churned up from the earth. The sound of metal hitting
stone and earth was incredibly close and Inphyy looked towards her end of the
clearing and her eyes fell upon her captor. The white goblin was digging by
hand through the earth he'd just pulled up and was picking out the rocks and
tossing them to the side of the field into a pile. Then again he hefted the
tool he was using, a pick, and dug into the earth again, four or five strokes
and then removed the rocks again.
The white goblin was sweating steadily in the late afternoon
heat, he had stripped his shirt off and dirt smeared on his pale skin. He was
totally absorbed in his work, there was a steadiness about it all as if he had
done this his entire life, everything fluid, precise. Inphyy watched him unable
to deny the painfully strange fascination with the creature that was holding
her captive. His body was well defined, youthful and his muscles rippled
beneath his flesh. She stood and watched him work for a while longer until the
sounds of voices shook Inphyy from her daze and she slipped behind the shed.
From the side of the field a small group of children goblins had emerged
yelling and tripping over themselves, only as children did. They seemed about
the ages of five to seven and all as one launched themselves at the white goblin
who evaded them easily.
//We finished! We finished!// they yelled excitedly as he
allowed them to catch him and topple him over. He wrestled the boys off of him
and gave each of the girls a pat on the head as he spoke to them.
//Well done and many thanks for your help,// out of his hip
satchel he produced some small pieces of candy and gave it to the youngsters
who in turn, squealed in delight and renewed their tackling of him.

Inphyy watched this interaction from where she hid with
great fascination. Despite her lack of linguistic prowess, it was a most
valuable learning experience, she leaned forward to hear better, see if maybe
she could start picking up on their language and knocked over the tools that
had been leaning against the side of the hut. They fell with a small clatter
and she instantly had eight pairs of eyes on her. For a moment there was an
uneasy silence, then the youngsters exploded with chatter, the girls hiding
behind the white goblin and the boys tugging at him excitedly as they sized her
up, but all were talking and pointing at her. Inphyy felt her face turn red and
wished the woods behind her could swallow her into it but no luck.

"Inphyy," her captor called to her. "Come
here." His tone was good-natured and he motioned with his hand. She
swallowed and approached them. She was about five feet from them, when,
"Stop. Okay. Lower yourself to their level, they'll
feel less threatened." She did as he said, going down on one knee so she
could get back up quickly if needed. The white goblin was talking to the
children goblins again and motioning at her, then they came towards her. The
boys first, they would run up to her and be an arm's length away then run back
to safety. Eventually they came up and began poking at her gently and pulling
at her cropped hair, chattering excitedly as they did. Their hands were damp,
dirty and rough, not yet understanding what it meant to be delicate and gentle.
As unintentional as it was, their explorative touchings and pokings and
pullings were not well received and Inphyy withstood it as long as she could,
it seemed like forever but was only perhaps twenty minutes. She stood abruptly
and pulled herself away from the small goblins, her arms wrapped around her,
trying desperately to contain her emotions. The group made a unanimous cry of
unfairness and started after her but her captor called after them and spoke to
them in a stern, but considerate tone. The children then disbanded, but not
after dog piling onto of the white goblin one last time for a group hug and
fair well. Then her captor approached her

"You were very tolerant of them, much more than I
expected. Thank you," he said, picking himself up and dusting off. Inphyy
didn't say anything, her entire body shaking. The sensation of being touched by
so many hands...innocent and exploratory in intent but the pulling and jabbing.
She wanted to tear her flesh of, her body crawling with the sickening feel of
touch. Inphyy choked back a sob and felt her body suddenly
weaken, her legs collapsed beneath her and she fell. But her captor caught her
and slowly sank to the ground with her, holding her tightly against his chest.
He didn't speak but made soft murmuring sounds in her ear, this only made it
worse. She couldn't stand to be touched, but at the same time couldn't push him
away. The memories of Aspharr's hands over her body, violating her. She gave
another muffled sob. There was no connection between the children and him. None
at all. But the sheer sensation and overwhelming amount of it, rough, and generally
uncaring as to if the specimen was hurt, it was likeness enough.
"This won't do," the white goblin was muttering to
himself. "Inphyy, you can't keep it inside, it will devour you," he
spoke softly into her ear.

"Let it out, talk to me." She violently shook her
head against this suggestion. Dwingvatt sighed, they would have to play twenty
questions.
"Did he touch you?" A nod.
"Did he bruise you?" Again and nod. She had buried
her face in his chest, as if to hide from him and the rest of the world.
Dwingvatt was going to have to push her to get her emotional dam to break. She
had to release it. Shock therapy, but minus the lightening.
"Did he push you to the ground? Tear your clothes off?
Betray your trust as he hit you, choked you, and made you bleed?" Her
quivering intensified, he was almost there.

"Did he pull at your flesh, call you whore and violate
what you held most sacred? Beat you and fuck you like you were lower than a dog
or a whore? Is that was he called you? Whore? Slut? Traitor?" Inphyy let
out a wail, unable to contain the pain of the memories her captor was forcing
her to relive. In a combination of sobbing and screaming she weakly hit the
white goblin's chest.
"I hated him so much. I hated him," she whimpered
between hiccups. "I fucking hated him. I was so glad that he died. But he
won't go away! He's in my mind. Haunting me. Reminding me." She dissolved
into sobs again and her captor turned comforter held her against him, rocking
her gently. They sat there in the field for nearly two hours, until Inphyy had
cried her eyes out and darkness was beginning to fall.
------

The past three weeks had been long ones for Dwingvatt. The
days were spent clearing the land a few miles from his home, if nothing else so
that come spring he could start planting properly. It was too late in the
season to plant anything, he would be entirely dependent on the earth. Come
spring he would also have to get livestock from the market that traveled
through the outer villages of the Goblin territory every spring, bringing goods
from the cites and news. The traveling market was a mix of carnival and produce
trade and eagerly anticipated by everyone in the village. Dwingvatt however had
to find something to trade for the livestock, all he'd been able to find from
the earth were summer berries and some mushrooms thus far.
He could scavenge enough for himself when fall came, but the
problem would be Inphyy. He had no clue if the typical diet of humans was even
remotely the close to that of goblins, the last thing he wanted to do was feed
her something that she was allergic to and have to deal with the following
vomiting and dehydration that would ensue. Clearing his acre of land was slow
work. He could've used his Orb Spark and do it in a matter of days, but the
quality would've been poor and he would've spent more time redoing it. The
speed of his Spark was good for fighting but little else.

The nights had been just as exhausting as the days. Inphyy,
despite keeping her sedated with the tea he brewed for her, constantly had
nightmares. He would be awoken by bouts of screaming that would last until she
screamed herself hoarse or the sedation overpowered her. One the third night
that it happened, Dwingvatt got up from his bed, short on both sleep and
patience went to where the delirious human lay.
"Shut up!" he screamed at her. His frustrations
were overwhelming and he knelt next to her, shaking her "Fucking shut up!
Shut up!" He yelled as her body convulsed and she fought against his hold,
still screaming. Before he knew it he had slapped her twice and had his hand
raised for another strike when he froze. She wasn't screaming anymore but
weakly whimpering, her body lying limply beneath him.
//Fuck, fuck what did I do?// he recoiled from the human in
horror at his hasty action. //Gods, no. Fuck.// There was a slight swelling on
her cheeks from where he'd struck her. The human whimpered and her eyes
fluttered as her body shook. Dwingvatt pulled her into his arms and she
struggled against the embrace, tears falling down her face again.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he muttered into her
ear, rocking her and stroking her hair in panicked and jerky movements
indicating his own shock at what had happened. And I call myself a
healer, he thought to himself with disgust as he held the shaking
human against him, apologizing and making soft shushing noises in her ear. As
he did this, she quieted and slipped back into sleep, Dwingvatt however, did
not. For the rest of the night, he held her. The screaming nightmares continued
for another week. Each night he went into her room and held her and held her
till they both fell asleep again.
Dwingvatt doubted that she remembered much of those three
weeks, each time he prepared food for her he was sure to infuse it with the
sedative so she would lapse back into the healing sleep that she so desperately
needed. By the end of the tired week, he had removed her stitches and her
wounds were healing properly and her wrist would hopefully be halfway through
its repair. The splint on her wrist was a lingering reminder of the battle that
had brought everything to this moment, most of the time Dwingvatt pushed this
out of his mind.

It was in the beginning of the fourth week that Dwingvatt
had begun to see the welps of the village regularly again and they were eager
to harass their favorite adult. They began a project of their own in order to
welcome the white goblin back to the village, as to them it was obvious that
the adults weren't going to care. They had begun building a stone fence up
around the back of Dwingvatt's home, effectively enclosing it and then
sectioning it off so he could have a place for various live stock instead of
having them wander as some did. They then went about beating down the weeds and
grasses that were growing to give the yard a more pruned and lived in look. It
was the morning that they finished, that the commotion had awoken Inphyy.
Dwingvatt was surprised that she had not run away, and even more surprised that
she had made it as far into the woods as she had, when he saw her in the field
watching him with the welps.

He was not sure how she would react to the sudden interest
of the welps. But if they didn't break the ice now it would only complicate
things, and children could be cruel in their means to learn or understand the
knowledge that is denied of them. He watched them poke at her and pull on her,
she took it remarkably well, but her demeanor was quickly changing, and
Dwingvatt saw that it had been too much too fast and when she pulled away he
had called the children back to him, explaining that she was still healing and
not to overwhelm her.

//Just like when you are sick. A few visitors are nice but
then when half the village is there, you become drained. They exhaust you and
you can't become better. Also remember she is not familiar with our customs,
just as we are not familiar with hers. Either we nor her want to cause another
war because of a simple misunderstanding of mannerisms,// the children had
nodded and taken this in stride, tackled him once more for good measure and
then scampered off to their homes. It was approaching dark anyways, their
mothers would be concerned.
"You were very tolerant of them, much more than I
expected. Thank you," he said picking himself up from the ground, watching
her closely as he brushed the dirt off himself. As she began to fall, he caught
her, cradling her against him as he lowered her trembling body to the ground.
Now that she was conscious, she could internalize her pain. Lock it inside her.
But, as Magistra had mentioned to him when she'd visited in the second week.

//She must get this poison out of her soul. Otherwise she
will never recover. It is ingrained in her, at night, the reason she screams as
you've told me, is her subconscious release of it. But in her waking moments
she must release it as well. She must confront it, talk about it, scream if
nothing else. Otherwise these sort of things can drown one like a heavy chain
around the neck. I know you have little patience sometimes, as is normal for
your age. But keep in mind that she is such a powerful tool to us. You must
find the will to help her heal. And don't fool yourself into thinking it will
be easy. This will possibly be the hardest task you will have ever
undertaken.//

"This won't do," the white goblin was muttering to
himself. "Inphyy, you can't keep it inside, it will devour you," he
spoke softly into her ear.
"Let it out, talk to me." She violently shook her
head against this suggestion. Dwingvatt sighed, they would have to play twenty
questions, and he knew that each one would only make it worse and worse. An
insuppressible feeling of guilt rose in his throat as he began to ask
questions for the second time. The ritual of forcing the horrible things into the light. To confront them head on. They would engage in this ritual for weeks to come still, and each time the same questions would provoke the same responses.
"Did he touch you?" A nod.
"Did he bruise you?" Again and nod. She had buried
her face in his chest, as if to hide from him and the rest of the world.
Dwingvatt was going to have to push her to get her emotional dam to break. She
had to release it. Shock therapy, but minus the lightening.
"Did he push you to the ground? Tear your clothes off?
Betray your trust as he hit you, choked you, and made you bleed?" Her
quivering intensified, they were almost there, balancing on the edge of the
ice. "Did he pull at your flesh, call you whore and violate what you held
most sacred? Beat you and fuck you like you were lower than a dog or a whore?
Is that was he called you? Whore? Slut? Traitor?" Inphyy let out a wail,
unable to contain the pain of the memories he was forcing her to relive. It
sent a lightning sharp tab of regret through the young goblin as she collapsed
entirely in his arms. In a combination of sobbing and screaming she weakly hit
his chest.

"I hated him so much. I hated him," she whimpered
between hiccups. "I fucking hated him. I was so glad that he died. But he
won't go away! He's in my mind. Haunting me. Reminding me." She dissolved
into sobs again and Dwingvatt kept holding her, letting her hit him as he
struggled to contain his own emotions. It seemed as though all the hurt the
human was carrying inside of her was radiating off of her in jolts. She finally
quieted and Dwingvatt had to shake himself to keep from falling asleep, almost
giving himself whiplash in the process. He was almost afraid to move her, she
had finally quieted. He feared another outburst of emotion. He shook himself
again and decided that it would not do to fall asleep in the field. Carefully
he stood and carried the sleeping human back to the house. Silently allowing
himself his own emotional release, a few tears in the pale moonlight.
Magistra, you were wrong. This isn't the hardest
task I've ever undertaken. It is the most painful.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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War of Attrition