Deus Necros

Ludwig kept the wounded lizardman moving with him up the mountain slope, one arm braced under the creature’s shoulder, the other keeping Durandal angled low in case the fog decided to spit out another surprise.

The incline forced their steps into a slow rhythm, boot, claw, boot, dirt shifting underfoot like it couldn’t decide whether to hold them or slide them back down. The air stayed dead around them, too still for a living mountain, and every time the lizardman’s breath brushed Ludwig’s neck, it carried that faint, wrong sweetness that clung to this place.

Ludwig helped the lizardman up the mountain slope and said, “How did you get ambushed?”

“The orc left ahead chasing after the ogres,” the Lizardman said, “And once we were separated, we were ambushed by that thing, it mimicked Akkro,” he said.

Ludwig’s face didn’t change, but his mind tightened like a fist. The story fit the shape of what had happened, separation, mimicry, sudden violence, yet the details scraped wrong against what Ludwig already knew.

The creature said “the orc” the way an outsider would, despite hearing Gale’s name thrown around more than once. Then it said “Akkro,” not Akro. A small error, but small errors were how predators tested whether you were paying attention.

Ludwig already had a good hunch that the Lizardman he was carrying was fake.

He kept his breathing steady, kept his grip supportive, kept his posture that of a chieftain helping a soldier, because the moment you show suspicion, the trap learns where to bite.

“I see, I’ll have to talk to Gale about not leaving his companions behind when we get him,” Ludwig said as they moved up.

“We’ll need to catch up to them, sir,” the Lizardman said, “I’m sorry for slowing you down, but I fear that my brothers would soon be killed by those monsters.”

The plea came out polished, too polished. Fear was usually messy. Real fear stumbled over itself. This sounded like a line delivered the way bait was delivered, wrapped in concern and urgency.

Ludwig let it wash over him without answering emotionally.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Gale can protect them. Just keep moving,” Ludwig said.

The two walked up the slope slowly, and surprisingly, without any incidents. No soothsayers, no effigies, no monsters, no creeping fog. The air stayed cold but breathable, the path stayed clear, the branches didn’t snag, the ground didn’t tear open. It was rather a relaxing walk. Too relaxing in fact. And that was exactly why Ludwig’s shoulders refused to relax.

Peace in a hostile environment wasn’t mercy. It was staging. And Ludwig was not about to be outdone by a fake.

They kept moving through the mountain until they reached what looked like a settlement.

It sat ahead like a fortress planted into the mountain’s ribcage, walled, squat, heavy. Large stone and wooden pillars surrounded the thing like a bastion, stacked into a perimeter that looked built to withstand direct assault. The gate stood open enough to invite and closed enough to threaten, and beyond it, deep blue light pulsed in hanging lanterns, cold illumination that made the fog look even paler.

“Sir, from here onward, be careful, these ogres are our enemies!”

“Because they attacked you,” Ludwig said.

“Yes, because they attacked us.”

The lizardman’s voice sharpened at the end, trying to push Ludwig into anger, into urgency, into a decision made too quickly.

Ludwig kept his gaze on the settlement’s wallline. No sentries. No silhouettes pacing the top. No guard at the gate. For a tribe as strong as ogres, that absence didn’t say “unprepared.” It said “waiting.”

“So, what do you suggest?” Ludwig asked.

“Hmm, I wouldn’t mind ripping them apart to take revenge for my brother, but,” the lizardman said, “I don’t think the two of us are enough. How about we wait in ambush?” it asked.

Ludwig made it look like he was deeply thinking as he watched the settlement.

He let his eyes travel deliberately, gate posts, torch placements, the angle of the wall, and the way the blue lanterns were stacked, mainly on the inside of the settlement. A few torches of blue light burned around the perimeter of the gate, and their flame didn’t flicker like fire. It held steady, rigid, like a ward made visible. No ogre in sight. A soundless camp where people should be living, or in this case, ogres. But no sign of life came out of it. No chatter, no hammering, no footsteps, not even the dull noise of a large body shifting weight inside a tent.

“We need to take down those lights, I think,” the lizardman said.

“You want to infiltrate?” Ludwig asked, holding his smile.

“Yes, we can get our kidnapped brothers that way, and understand why they attacked us.” The Lizardman said.

“And how do you suppose we do that?” Ludwig asked, though he knew what would come out of the lizardman’s mouth next.

“Well, I think that you should get rid of those torches first. I’m slow and wounded, I’d have done it myself, but I might alert them.”

The trap finally showed its teeth. Get rid of the blue light. Step into the settlement.

This felt like goading. Especially the strange blue lights and the request of removal. This would make the darkness welcoming again, not to Ludwig alone…

Ludwig kept his expression neutral, as if he were considering it seriously, because showing satisfaction would teach the creature he’d already solved the puzzle.

“Ah, I see.” Ludwig said as he stood up.

“Sir! You’ll be seen!” the lizardman said.

“No need to worry, we’ve already been spotted anyway,” Ludwig said as two ogres emerged from their left and right.

They didn’t step out like patrols. They appeared like doors opening in the fog. Massive frames, broad shoulders, long curved weapons already drawn, their silhouettes cutting the blue light into harsh angles.

The blades looked heavy enough to shear an orc in half if swung clean.

Their eyes were hard to read under the cold lantern glow, but their stances were correct, balanced, trained, ready. And hostile.