Chapter 3: Hunting Voidspawn

A pair of ogre guards came to fetch Aven the following morning. Janaya made her usual attempt on the captors’ lives, this one less successful. Apparently, she was out of spoons.

“Move!” one of the first ogres shoved Aven along. Needlessly, since he was already matching their pace.

“And where am I being taken?” Aven asked. Though the guards made for uncouth company, having anyone to talk to was almost a relief. Janaya’s mutterings had filled the evening until the ravings gave way to snores, and Aven felt that some of that madness might be rubbing off. “Not another confessional, I hope.”

“Work detail,” the second ogre growled, giving Aven a prod to move faster.

“What sort of work?” Aven asked.

“No questions!” the first one snapped. “Move!”

Aven sighed. Not conversationalists, these. Pity. Ogres were rare in Tenebras, but the tavern he’d frequented during secret escapades outside the estate had been owned by a family of ogres, and Haagar could talk the ears off a canin. Then again, work as a prison guard likely attracted a different sort than tavern ownership.

The light of the Warden’s Eye shining above swept over Aven, bringing that increasingly familiar sense of fear. The gaze of something beyond mortal eyes. Judging. Condemning. More such Eyes waited at various intervals, the final one at the gate of the fortress where they led Aven out into the bitter cold. At least the wind was less biting than before. A milder day, or else he was acclimating. How many other things would he get used it in this prison?

A road stretched out, winding down the mountain. Instead of the barren waste that lay on the other side, this road was lined with smaller buildings. A town, then, no doubt the homes of those lived here. Odd to see signs of civilization. It was easier to think of his captors as simply springing into existence to torment him then vanishing away like nightmares. Yet they had families, lives. Homes to return to. He was a job to them. He even saw a stable for some sort of shaggy-haired oxlike beasts with twisting horns were being fed. The town was actually quite similar to Elensvale, only harsher and sparser. Rather than only a prison, this was a proper fort town.

“Move!” one of the ogres growled. “Or we’ll feed you to the frostfangs.”

“Are they hungry?” Aven asked. “I’d not want to deny them a meal.”

The ogre swung a meaty hand, cuffing Aven on the head. Apparently they’d tired of using words to silence him.

The road was paved, but in bad shape, the stone cracked and uneven. More signs of life, hints that this place was built to be lived in, not just a prison. The Hellfrost Keep itself was a relic, a structure of stone and magic centuries old, yet the surrounding area was not. It was newer. Built atop an ancient relic, the original intent lost. The Empire typically razed such relics to erase all trace of powers older than their conquest. Here, it had been claimed.

A group of prisoners formed two parallel lines near a gate leading out of the town, several guards (mostly snow ogres) surrounding them, some with leashes that held back giant dogs that might as well have been wolves. Most of the dogs had snow-white coats but one stood larger, fur patched with black.

Among the guards stood a larger ogre, one covered in scars visible amidst his matted, bristly dark-brown fur.

“This the new blood?” the ogre asked. The guards grunted in confirmation and handed over the chain of his manacles. The ogre looked Aven up and down, yellow eyes narrowing, “Voidtouched, is it? Don’t look like much.” He prodded Aven’s chest, “Name.”

“Aven of Elensvale, son of-”

“Don’t need your family tree,” the ogre growled. “Your titles and history don’t mean goat shit here. Understood?”

Aven nodded.

“Good,” the ogre released him. “Aven. Head Warden wants you kept alive, but he said nothing about bruises. Don’t expect soft treatment.” He produced a key, “You’ll call me Captain Erdrak, and you’ll do everything I say. You’re lucky, because you’re vis. That means you get to kill monsters instead of work the quarries.”

Ah, the privileges of power. If a privilege it was.

Chief Erdrak produced a key, “I’m going to unlock your manacles, and you’re going to fall in line. Any defiance, and it won’t be the Head Warden’s power you’ll have to worry about. He owns your soul. Your bones are mine to break.” Aven held still while Erdrak unlocked his manacles.

Unlocked, the metal bands opened, the tiny spikes on the inside releasing from Aven’s skin. At the next breath, Aven’s Flow of power rushed back, a welcome companion even after only a few days’ absence. Ambient power rushed in, filling him like gasps of pure air after drowning. Power that had been his companion from youth, first found when bleeding hands and bruised limbs from Father’s training had brought anger and pain strong enough to become something more.

There was more than that power inside, though. Something darker intruded, something colder. A companion newly awakened yet still comfortably at home within the lake of power inside Aven’s soul. The Void whispered, and Aven shoved it down, unwilling to give in to the power that had earned him his death sentence. The Void fought, but for the moment Aven triumphed, smothering that dark impulse with the full strength of his will.

Erdrak watched closely, powerful muscles tensed, clearly ready to strike. Yet the powers of the Battle Mind, the domain that Aven had first found in youth, sensed no oncoming blow. And seeing Aven make no action towards violence, Erdrak relaxed a fraction, jerking his head towards the line, “Back of the line.”

Aven did not resist, walking past the other prisoners to take his place at the back. Some human, many beastkin or ogres. Some gave him curious or distrusting glances, but many didn’t look at him at all.

“Work crew, you’re heading out,” Erdrak growled, addressing the entire line. “Spawn come out of the pits. Your job is to kill them and collect their bodies.” The ogre continued, “Gandrak, chain pairs.”

The guards walked between the lines, bearing new chains, these ones lacking the curse that suppressed the Flow. One end of the chain locked around Aven’s leg, the other binding the prisoner across from him, a grey-haired human with a muscular frame that spoke of decades spent laboring in the quarries, judging by his scarred and rough hands. So that was it. Chained together, the prisoners would have a difficult time running. Of course, they’d also have a difficult time doing anything else.

Aven’s chainmate gave him only a single glance before putting eyes forward again. Aven looked up and down the lines, counting the total at thirty, including him. A few faces showed hints of interest; most did not. Most wore expressions of exhaustion. Resignation.

“Newcomers!” the chief shouted, “You’ll listen up, and you’ll listen well. Out there, we’ll be beyond the Eyes. If you think that means you’re free, you’re dead wrong. Every single one of us,” he gestured to the guards surrounding them, “is vis. And the Head Warden’s still got your soul. No one escapes Hellfrost. Kill enough voidspawn, and you’ll live another day. That’s your life now.” His eyes swept up and down the line of prisoners, lingering on Aven, “Understand, shitbrains?”

A round of sullen but ready affirmations, and the ogre chief nodded, “Good. Now, arms.”

A cart rolled up, a wooden contraption hauled by two shaggy-haired ox things, led by ogre and dezar guards. The dezar grabbed a spear in one hand, an axe in the other, while the ogre followed behind with wooden shields.

“Axe or spear?” the dezar asked, no notable expression on her face as she neared Aven.

Before Aven could reply, his elderly chainmate snatched the axe from her grasp.

The dezar chuckled and pushed the spear into Aven’s hand, “Spear it is, then.”

Both Aven and his chainmate accepted a shield from the ogre. The weapon and shield were simple and unadorned, clearly well-used and not particularly well made, yet both were solid enough that they would serve their purpose.

“Why the axe?” Aven asked the old man as the dezar and ogre moved on. “I’d think a spear would be better against voidspawn. Give more distance.”

The old man grunted.

The answer instead came from the prisoner in front of Aven, a red-and-brown-furred beastkin with ears that reminded Aven of a bear’s, “Spears take the front; axes back them up. Old Fox just volunteered you for the frontline, kelta.”

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At least someone here was willing to be communicative. “Thanks for the lesson,” Aven replied. He’d never been much for axe work, in any case. The bulk of his training had been with the sword, though he could certainly find a way to make use of the spear, “What’s your name?”

The beastkin chuckled, “Call me Ko’jan, and if we survive this hunt, I might call you friend.”

“Lovely. And what, pray, did does kelta mean?” Aven asked, unfamiliar with the appellation.

“Yellow,” the beastkin said, laughing and waving a hand. “Like spring daisies. You are new and fresh.” He slapped Aven’s shoulder, “We’ll see if you last long enough to not be a daisy, eh?”

The old man gave a wordless scoff.

“Hard luck, friend. Old Fox has a curse, see,” the prisoner chained to Ko’jan said, a squat, lazy-eyed ogre with matted hair and a gap-toothed smile. “None of his chainmates last a month.”

“Ah, but they are usually not vis!” Ko’jan said. “What is your domain, kelta?” He flexed a powerful bicep, “I am of the Strongarm!”

A body domain, one of the more common. Not so different from the domain that Father tried to beat into Aven. Tried and failed.

“Battle Mind,” Aven replied. He didn’t have to explain more. Most had heard of the mind domain that allowed warriors to sense blows and strikes before they happened, to see an enemy’s weakness in their posture.

“Ah! A good domain,” Ko’jan said. “A Strongarm and Battle Mind together could be strong. Veese! Switch with our kelta friend. I will have a helpful companion for once instead of your deadweight!

The gap-toothed ogre snorted and shook his head, “You’re just with me, jackass. I’m not chancing Old Fox’s curse.”

The old man spat and gave Veese a glare, but still said nothing.

“Quiet!” Chief Erdrak cut in, all the weapons and shields distributed and bringing an end to any chance at conversation. “Let’s go!”

The ogres formed around them as guards, and Aven found himself forced to match the brisk pace or risk stumbling and falling. He matched Old Fox best as he could. At least the spear could act as a walking stick in the snow. The weapon itself was crude, clearly made in a rush by inexpert hands. Fitting for a prisoner.

As the prisoners and ogres marched out, and the light of the Eyes faded behind them, the light of the sun did not come to replace it. The clouds above grew thicker, darker, and icy winds cut through his clothes. Nominally, spring was here, and back in Elensvale the first buds had started to emerge. No sign of such greenery out here, only endless white snowpack smothering the landscape.

The road was in worse repair the further out they went, until it ended altogether. And so the prisoners were led out, marching on a snowy field. Snow crunched beneath their boots. The terrain would have been awkward to walk through, even if Aven did not have another man chained to his leg. Old Fox gave dirty glares every time Aven missed the rhythm of their stride, causing them to stumble and bringing light shoves from the guards. The cold seeped through the thin clothing provided to the prisoners and the thick furs that the guards wore. No one spoke, save harsh orders from the guards and muttered curses from the prisoners who stumbled.

On the march, the cold bit at Aven’s flesh and seeped in. Snow seeped into his boots. A bitter reminder that he was still alive, even if trapped. Still alive and with a mission ahead of him.

“Pit ahead!” Chief Erdrak announced after they’d gone a couple miles. “Spears forward, axes behind.”

“Here is where it gets dangerous,” Ko’jan muttered as he hefted his spear and took up a position next to Aven at the front of the formation. “Careful, kelta.”

The pit itself was a black gouge on the ground, a hole of emptiness and blackness that led into terrible nothing. The Void. Where the pit in the prison was a perfect circle, this one was more like a jagged scar in the earth. More than that, this pit was alive. Even from a distance, the mist drifting from the pit and the sounds of chittering spoke to the presence of some perversion of life from that place.

A chill deeper than the cold ran up Aven’s spine as the Void within him leapt at the familiar presence. Not now. He shoved that power back down, smothering the instinct. Those powers weren’t what he needed here.

The sounds from the pit intensified, clicking and scratching rising to shrieks. Aven gripped his spear tightly, feeling the power of the Battle Mind rise, a familiar comfort as the world seemed to slow just a fraction. Old instincts came back to life, and Aven adjusted his grip and posture, adopting a proper stance. The world became sharper. More real.

“Spears up!” Chief Erdrak ordered.

Aven raised his spear and shield as the first voidspawn emerged.

The wailing shriek reached his ears before the sight of the creature, the sound of something both alive and yet dead, an unnatural combination of insectile and human, of life and undeath.

Then came the creature itself, crawling from the Void in an unnatural gait. Six legs, ending in wicked claws. A pair of hooked pincers jutting from jaws like a wolf’s maw. Three glowing red eyes on each side of its head. Chitinous scales covering a pantherine body. Some unholy amalgamation of beasts out of a nightmare. The monster reared onto its hind legs and shrieked, pincers spread while its front two claws flared.

In the instant before the beast pounced, Aven reached into the domain of the Battle Mind. The world slowed further, the motions and actions of the voidspawn revealed. Aven could not move any faster, but he could think as the world slowed. Aven could see the muscles tensing and moving in slow motion, see the creature’s trajectory and intent. In the slowed time, he adjusted his stance and prepared to meet the creature.

And then time returned to normal. Aven’s shield caught the blow of the monster’s pincers, and Aven stabbed out with the spear, striking at a weak spot between chitinous plates and piercing through.

The creature shrieked and thrashed, jolting back as its black blood spurted over the ground, sizzling in the snow. The spear came free, the voidspawn’s claws tearing at the air as the creature flailed in pain and rage.

Not a killing strike. Aven took a deep breath as it reared to attack again. Another step forward, another thrust, this time aiming at the voidspawn’s head. Yet this time the creature was ready, dodging aside, and the spearhead sliced along its face. Aven brought the spear back in a defensive position as it struck with claw and pincers, his shield absorbing the blows and leaving the monster vulnerable for a follow-up strike.

Another thrust, and the spearhead sank deep into the creature’s skull. Black blood sprayed, and Aven jerked his spear back to free it as the voidspawn collapsed. Another creature lunged forward to replace the fallen foe. This one attacked from the side, forcing Aven to shift to meet it. The creature’s claws raked down his shield, tearing through the wooden planks and leaving a gouge. The force of the impact drove Aven’s legs to give out beneath him, sending him tumbling backwards. As the creature lunged forward, Old Fox lunged, the old veteran’s axe slashing through the air just above Aven’s head to cut in the side of the beast’s skull. It shrieked and fell backwards.

“Thanks,” Aven breathed, rising back to his feet and adopting a defensive position.

The old man only grunted and shoved Aven back into defensive position. Well, being a human shield was a novel experience, but one that Aven could manage even in the current state. To the side, Ko’jan was a monster in his own right, roaring as his spear skewered right through a voidspawn’s carapace, running through its body like an Sodron kebab.

At last, the creatures appeared to have enough, the last of them scurrying back into the Void with a final dreadful scream. The air itself seemed clearer when the voidspawns’ presence retreated.

Any hope at rest, however, vanished when Captain Erdrak snapped out orders, “Right, you miserable shits, butcher the spawn before the Void opens up again. Move your lazy carcasses! Chop chop!”

Chopping was exactly what happened next. The prisoners and ogre guards alike descended upon the dead. Old Fox wielded the hatchet like an expert, chopping off the beasts’ heads and claws and maneuvering so that he touched as little of the black voidspawn blood as possible. Those with spears were standing behind this time, playing at guard duty while the grisly butchering happened.

“What do we use all this for?” Aven asked.

Old Fox gave no reply, nor indeed any acknowledgment, so the gap-toothed ogre Veese supplied, “Never wondered what they were feeding us, huh? You should see the kitchens! They have to drain the flesh three times to get the black blood out, then mash it all together to make it some semblance of edible. Still, not the worst grub, eh?”

It was, in fact, among the worst food Aven had tasted, but considering the circumstances, complaining didn’t seem reasonable. Now that he looked, some pieces of the guards’ armor had the shiny black of the voidspawn’s carapaces, as did the sharp point of the spears. It made a sort of sense. If this was indeed the empire’s bastion against the voidspawn, it was a sound strategy to feed and arm the prisoners to fight the beasts with the very corpses of the monsters they hunted.

And their own corpses served a purpose too, it seemed. Three of the group had taken injuries, one so mangled as to be unrecognizable. Whatever suffering the man must be experiencing ended shortly as Captain Erdrak cleaved his head off in one strike, then threw the body in front of the voidpit. Bait for the next wave of the spawn.

The other two injured shrank back, both chained together and shivering violently, as likely from the fear as the cold.

Erdrak grabbed one of the injured, an ogre bearing the team’s hatchet. The captain yanked the smaller ogre to his feet and roared, “Get in there and get butchering, maggot!”

“Th-the black blood!” the ogre prisoner whimpered. “I’m...I’m wounded...”

Erdrak grabbed the prisoner’s ear, bringing a pained squeal out, “You’ll take the curse, or you’ll take my godsdamned axe. Which is it?” The prisoner whimpered, but Erdrak only twisted the ear harder, “I can’t hear you, maggot! Which one?!”

The threats were interrupted when two of the prisoners broke free, taking off running, with the guards’ shouts behind them. The pair stumbled, the chain between them making it impossible to gain any sort of rhythm running through the snowy ground.

“Dogs!” Captain Erdrak snapped the command.

Aven could do nothing but watch as the guards let the dogs off their leash .

More wolves than dogs, shoulders higher than Aven’s waist with thick white coats and powerful jaws. Frostfangs were rare back home in Tenebras, but Aven had seen one on a hunt before. Faster and more powerful than any breed of dog back home, that one had chased down a boar all on its own.

One of the dogs was larger still, with a sleek black coat that stood out amidst the snow. That dog raced out ahead of the others, barking as loud as voidspawn’s cries.

Poor bastards never stood a chance. That black-furred dog got to the pathetically stumbling prisoners before they made it thirty paces. The dogs didn’t even have the mercy to end their lives, instead seizing them by the legs to drag them back to Erdrak, no matter their struggles.

“Looks like we’ve got more volunteers for bait in the next wave!” Erdrak jeered as the guards took the prisoners from the dogs. Aven had to glance away from the sight of their now mangled legs.

The would-be escapees were tossed in front of the void pit, their screams and pleas falling on deaf ears. The other prisoners all turned away.

“Damned idiots,” Old Fox said.

Aven glanced at the old man. Surprisingly loquacious of him. But the man’s face bore an odd mix of anger and grief. No doubt this was not the first time he’d seen escapees put down in such brutal fashion.

“Back to butchering! Now, spawnmeat!” Erdrak roared.

And the prisoners resumed their work, with no choice but to listen to the would-be-escapees’ cries.

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