Lost

Gul

There were voices in the darkness. Soft and distant, drifting like a mirage in the swampy heat of Gul's consciousness. Try as he might, he could not understand the words. The louder they got the more distorted they became. Gul thought he might have drowned in the pit. It felt as if he was drifting so he supposed it must be true.

Death was pleasant, Gull decided. He was content, if a little warm. Although there where no Feasts of Summer about, eternal or otherwise to greet him. The afterlife that the Fae sung of.

Gul could not say for mans afterlife. He remembered something about a hell for each of the Seven sins. A plump maid had once told him that he'd be sent to one for his lust. When he'd enquired about his other wickedness', she'd turned beet red and let her brown hair tumble in front of her face.

"I'm no priest milord, I-I can't say." She'd mumbled. Gul had nuzzled her neck and she'd had no more to say of sin.

Gul did not know where good men went, and where it left him. Would a Changeling have a special afterlife crafted for him? A purgatory suited to punish or please a half man? Or did he follow after his birth kind.

Gul could not help the laughter that spilled out from him. It echoed muted and dull in the gloom.

I am a scholar now. Perhaps I could create anything I wanted from this darkness.

All Gul got for his efforts was a headache that reverberated through his skull.

That was not right, Gul thought drowsily. Dead men feel no pain, but the pain grew worse. It was if a seed had taken root in his brain, growing upwards and pushing frantically against his skull. A plant needs light.

It pushed hard, the pain growing steadier until at last Gul felt it crack through his skull. Blinding light poured in.

"He's awake."

Doe eyes stared down at Gul, soft and brown with long eyelashes. White splotches scattered across the small solemn and tanned face. Small horns  poked through his shaggy brown hair like knobbly twigs, marking him for a Deer man. Gul's head was cradled in his lap.

The land jolted and rattled underneath Gul, the sky above slipped past like a bolt of cloth. Blue and clear. Gul could feel splintered wood, worn and sharp against his body. He could hardly move, as packed in as he was. Hunched figures sat on all sides. They were big and small, Gremlins, Imps, Sprites, Lesser trolls and forest folk, like the Deer man. Faerie both proud and fickle. The foul stench of unwashed flesh hung above them all in a mocking cloud. Rusted iron bars looped around them  in a poisonous iron cage. A cart? Gul's head swam.

Gul's mouth tasted of the dark water and his words were choked. He managed a croaky, "Where am I?"

The solemn Deer man touched Gul's forehead lightly, frowning. Sweat beaded his fingertips as they came away.

"You're burning up." The Deer man's voice sounded sad to Gul.

"Am I?" Gul could not say. It was too bright, he wanted to go back to his dark world. His eyelids began to slide shut. A burning sensation erupted from his ear alongside a resounding smack.

"Do not sleep. Or it's likely you'll not wake again." The Deer man said sagely.

"Thank you wise one."

"I am Leaf, my grandfather is the wise one, I would not dare-"

"You are far too serious." Gul mumbled, cutting Leaf off. He felt nausea rise in his belly and he struggled to push himself up to retch. Leaf struggled to pull Gull up, his hands trembling. When Gull was up, leaf patted his back. Though Gul wished he did not, it was awkward and jarring.

There was much cursing when the contents of Gul's stomach heaved on the uneven floor. Vile water and bile. It splattered every creature in his radius, adding to the foul stains that decorated their mottled clothing. The smell hovered offensively, mingling with the stench of unwashed flesh. Someone grabbed at his hair and yanked hard, Gul cried.

"Stop it, they'll come!" The voice was low but panicked enough for the others to turn and look at the speaker. A robust little Imp with bruises riddling his face. He was met with hissing.

"Shut up Imp! I Gormoth the Unburnt will drag his guts from his weak body." Gormoth proclaimed. He was a lesser troll, shaped like a boulder with the trappings of greasy animal pelts. Gormoth raised his arms, Gul's hair still in a meaty fist. Gul was pulled up with the motion like a doll, his cries where feeble.

"I will eat his liver!" Gormoth continued. Confidence growing as all the smaller Fae kept quiet.

"I will take his puny heart and-" Gul would never know what Gormoth planed for his heart. A spear head was poking through his throat, blood bubbled from his stony lips. Death loosened his grip and Gul collapsed to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. The owner of the spear was outside of the cart, astride a chestnut horse. He had plain features, unrecognisable in a crowd. A grimy, tattered cloak fell from his shoulders, grazing the horses rump.

"If I hear another word from you filthy creatures." the rider barked as he wrenched the spear out of Gormoth's throat. "You will wish you were this sorry creature."

The threat hung over them like a low and menacing cloud. Heavy and true.

"Good sir!" The voice was familiar, aristocratic and delicate. The Fae parted like insects before water, desperate not to be lumped in with the speaker. She stood proudly, though her clothes where little more than rags and her milky skin was mottled with bruises.

"There has been some kind of mistake, let me speak to your leader." She made her way to the bars slowly, half limping. Her hair was cropped, it looked to have been done with a blunt dagger. Bald patches peeked through the shaggy white hair. Fresh scabs made it hideous to look upon. Gul's eyes narrowed in suspension.

Sruthan

"Quiet Elf!" The guardsmen barked. His long spear dipping within the bars to prod her in the ribs. She collapsed, an ill contained gasp coming from  full pink lips. Desperation turned her words to a confused jumble.

"How dare you- you don't understand- this is wrong- this isn't-"

"Why's that accursed bitch here?" Gul asked Leaf, finally, leaning heavily against him.

"I did not see much, but when your body was taken from the pit our captors where not pleased. The elf, Sruthan? You called her, she demanded more coin for you. Something about the fact that a human's worth was increased tenfold after fostering with elves." Leaf spoke haltingly, trying to piece together information as he wove the tale.

"And?" Gul's eyes were shining bright with curiosity and fever.

"Our captor said that an elf must be worth at least a gold coin then, and Sruthan claimed elves where worth a pot of gold."

The ridiculousness froze Gul for a moment. He sat still as a stone, absorbing the information. When he laughed, Leaf pulled back, startled.

Gul's laughter escaped like a mad animal, making his chest seize with pain. His howls turned heads. The noise was off putting in the fearful silence of the cart.  Curses and threats alike did nothing to quiet him. Gul did not care. He could not. Imps and Elves where very alike. One really could not help their nature after all.