Transformation
“Storm’s a-brewing.”
Montevic lowered their binoculars and eyed the dark storm clouds with suspicion.
Norvan paused for a moment to chew and swallow his bite of sandwich. “That isn’t any good.”
“Definitely not. Reckon we can outrun it? You grew up in this general vicinity; you should know.”
Norvan’s lips pursed into a small frown. “I doubt it. Storms are...what’s the word, inexorable, and Fog and Phantom can’t go as fast when they’re carrying us both.”
“Well, we may as well cover as much ground as we can before it catches us. Help me up.” Montevic tucked the binoculars back in one of the saddlebags and reached for Norvan’s hand, clambering up onto Fog and Phantom’s back. They shifted about, searching for the best position: the slope of a nyk-nyka’s back was less than ideal for carrying more than one curio at a time. “Hey, Norv. Do you mind if I uh. Hold on? To you? So I don’t fall off.”
“Hm? Oh uh, yeah, sure, I guess, I don’t see why not.” Norvan tightened his grip on the reins and urged Fog and Phantom into a trot. “If you’re gonna do that, you should probably hold on tight. I’d like to at least get to somewhere more sheltered before the storm reaches us.”
“Shelter? On the plains?” Montevic wrapped their arms around Norvan’s chest, bracing their legs against the saddlebags. They didn’t want to pull Norvan off the back of the nyk-nyka by accident. “Well, if you say so.”
“Right then.” Norvan leaned forward and clicked his tongue, directing the nyk-nyka to speed to a gallop. They raced into the wind, away from the oncoming storm.
---
“Fuck!” Montevic swore as they felt one of the saddlebags loosen and fall away beneath their paw.
“What happened?” Norvan raised his voice, presumably to be heard over the sound of the wind, though they were close enough that it probably wouldn’t have mattered.
“We lost a saddlebag!” Montevic twisted around to survey the remaining baggage. “And one of the snack pouches and the rope, I think. Possibly more. We have to turn around!”
Norvan groaned and pulled back on the reins, Fog and Phantom slowing to a halt. As soon as they had stopped, Montevic slid off the nyk-nyka, landing on the dry, prickly plains grass. They scanned the way they’d come from, searching for the lost luggage. It lay some distance away, scattered in a trail near an outcropping of rock. Small brown shapes with bright glinting markings raced towards the bags.
“Varmints.” Montevic pulled their spear out of the baggage and sighed, then sprinted towards the rocky outcrop, brandishing the spear and shouting angrily.
“Get away, you damned pests! Hey! Let go of that! Oi!” They chucked the spear at a particularly quick varmint that was carrying a ration bar in its mouth, but missed, the spearhead glancing off a nearby rock and falling to the ground. Montevic grabbed the largest saddlebag, which was thankfully still belted shut and too large for the varmints to drag away, and carried it over to Norvan, who had ridden Fog and Phantom close nearby. They handed the bag to Norvan, who tied it back in place on the nyk-nyka’s back, and Montevic went back to retrieve the rest of the remaining fallen supplies.
When they had finally secured the last bit of luggage, Montevic stashed their spear away and flopped down dramatically in the grass, glaring at the sky. “Damned varmints. Maybe it’s best if I walk the rest of the way. It’s probably my fault the luggage fell off in the first place; I was kinda leaning on it.”
“If you insist.” Norvan eyed the storm, which had moved much closer than the last time they’d stopped, its shadowy clouds now taking up nearly half the sky. It didn’t look like a small storm, either: a system that big would last for hours, maybe days. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to wait out this storm. We’ll lose too much time.”
“I’ll bet Marsa isn’t going to stop and wait so we can catch up with her, either. You really think she’s gonna go for an interview? With all this going on?” Montevic sat up, twitching their tail.
“Well...it’s worth a shot, I guess. But even if we don’t get the interview, there’s still a story! Moving shadows, strange mutations...possession. This could finally be what we’re looking for.”
“You say that about everything we investigate!”
“But more so this time!” Norvan spread his arms briefly, quickly grabbing back onto the reins. “Come on, we already came out this far. And you can always help bring her in or something. Maybe there’s a reward.”
“I don’t want a damned reward,” Montevic grumbled, getting to their feet. “I want to stay dry.”
“There’s ponchos in one of the bags. Beyond that, you’ll just have to deal with it.”
---
Montevic felt damp and miserable. The yellow oilcloth rain ponchos kept the rain off their upper body, sure, but their legs and tail were soaked through and their horns kept them from pulling the hood over their face, so the rain spattered against their skin and ran down their neck into their shirt. Norvan seemed to have a similar problem, but for some reason wasn’t complaining. Worst of all, Montevic was bored. They’d been travelling all day and into the night, swapping places on the ground and on Fog and Phantom every couple of hours. There was nothing here in this saintsforsaken place, nothing but grass and rocks and rain and varmints. Once, they’d come across another group of curios, also tracking down Marsa, who pointed them in the right direction, but Norvan and Montevic had outpaced the group and now they were far behind them. So now there was nothing to do but play travel games like the alphabet game or seventeen questions or sit in bored, chilly silence. Summer nights were usually warm, but with the rain and wind combined, Montevic was chilled to the bone. The only sources of warmth were Norvan and Fog and Phantom, but though all three were in close contact (Norvan had climbed up on the nyk-nyka after his walking shift and Montevic had refused to get off), all three were also shivering, equally cold and miserable. Even if Norvan didn’t talk about it.
Suddenly, Fog and Phantom slowed and halted. Montevic yawned, worn out from the day’s journey. “Hmm? Something wrong? We finally making camp?”
“I thought I saw something.” Norvan leaned between Fog and Phantom’s necks and stared intently out at the dark, rain-covered plains. “Get the binoculars, will you?”
Montevic groaned quietly and slid off the nyk-nyka to the ground, then poked through the luggage until they found the binoculars. “Where’s this thing you saw?”
Norvan pointed at a hill, somewhat to the west of where they’d been travelling.
“Thataway.” Montevic held the binoculars to their face and scanned the hills. Hold up. What was that? They focused the binoculars on a dark figure, curio-shaped but with something inky black rippling above it, a very faint blue glow edging the shape. “Holy...”
“What is it?” Norvan’s voice took on an edge of excitement it hadn’t had since midday. “Is it her?”
“Yeah, I figure so. We’ll have to get closer to look, but - “
“Come on! Let’s go!” Norvan urged Fog and Phantom into a fast trot, leaving Montevic to run to keep up. Their bones ached with weariness; why did Norvan get to ride the nyk-nyka? He seemed to be the one with all the sudden energy. But Montevic persisted anyway, doggedly following their friend towards the mysterious stranger who was probably incredibly dangerous and likely didn’t want to be followed.
Norvan stopped Fog and Phantom on the crest of a hill a hundred meters or so behind the figure and dismounted, then pulled out some of the recording equipment.
Montevic caught up, panting. Running was definitely harder when you had an extra ten pounds of water in your fur. “Hey, be careful with that; we don’t want any water damage. It’s expensive equipment.”
“I know, I know.” Norvan had draped his rain poncho over the tangle of electronics and cables. “Since when do you care about being careful?”
“Since - “ Montevic glanced in the direction of the shadowy figure, which was starting to look more like Marsa the more they looked. “ - since you decided to go chasing after a dangerous criminal! You could get yourself hurt!”
“Monty, I’ll be fine.” Norvan patted Montevic’s arm reassuringly. “Look at me. Do I look remotely threatening?”
Montevic had to admit he didn’t. The baby-faced freckled curio couldn’t intimidate someone if he tried. “No, but -”
“You can hang back with your spear, if you’re really that nervous. I’m sure you can handle Marsa if she tries anything. Besides, this is your chance to fight a demon!”
“Marsa’s a person, not a demon. Very different.”
“Then fight her shadow, I don’t care. Same difference. Look, I’m going to go talk to her, and you can’t stop me short of physical violence, which I’m sure you won’t resort to.” Norvan hoisted the recorder under his poncho and started down the hill. “I’m not losing this chance. Fog and Phantom, stay. You coming?”
Montevic picked up a lantern, then grabbed their spear and did their best to conceal it beneath their rain poncho. “Fine. But if things go south, you run back to that nyk-nyka and get the hell out of here, you understand?”
“Mhm.” Norvan climbed up the slope. “Hey!” he shouted at the figure, who froze. “Hello? We come in peace!”
The figure turned, and a chill that had nothing to do with the cold rain ran down Montevic’s spine. The curio’s face definitely belonged to one Marsa Kul, as seen on the wanted posters, but it was changed, shot through with glowing crack marks. A single thorned horn sprouted from where her forehead mark had once been, and her eyes had turned a blank white. It was the eyes that unsettled Montevic the most: it seemed impossible that she should be able to see with them, yet her head tracked both Norvan and Montevic as though her eyesight was unfettered by her apparent lack of pupils.
Norvan didn’t seem put off by these changes, quickly closing the gap between himself and Marsa. He thrust out his microphone. “Hi! You must be Marsa? Would you mind if - “
WHAM! Marsa’s fist slammed into the center of Norvan’s face with an awful crunch. Norvan cried out in pain and staggered backwards.
“Norvan!” Montevic dropped the lantern and rushed forward, just in time to catch Norvan and lower him gently to the ground. They didn’t bother to ask if he was all right: the blood dripping from between Norvan’s fingers clutched over his nose and the pained whimpering were enough to tell him that the answer would be “no”. A low growl rose in the back of Montevic’s throat as they stood, pulling out their spear.
“What the hell, Marsa?”
Marsa wiped the blood off her gloves, then reached for a whip coiled at her waist. “I didn’t tell him to come here. He can book an interview like everyone else. I’m a busy woman.”
“All right, you asked for it, motherfucker.” With that, Montevic charged forward, wielding their spear with violent intent.
Marsa growled in disgust and irritation and pulled a whip out from under her cloak. Electricity crackled to life along its surface, but Marsa seemed unaffected: her gloves must have been insulated.
With a yell, Montevic slashed the spear at Marsa, but she leapt backwards, flicking the electrified whip forward. Before Montevic had time to react, the woven cable of copper and steel fiber wrapped up the spear and around their arm. Pain lanced through their body as the lightning stabbed its way through their fur and flesh, seeking a route to the earth beneath their paws. Meanwhile, every muscle in Montevic’s body involuntarily seized up, and he narrowly avoided biting his tongue as his teeth locked together in a painful rictus.
“Do you even know how to use a spear?” Marsa yanked on the whip, pulling Montevic unbalanced, and they fell to the ground, going limp as the cable slipped from their arm, presumably retrieved by Marsa. Montevic lay stunned on the ground, their whole body too aching to move. Their arm still stung with white-hot pain, and Montevic could smell burning fur and fabric. Saints, was that going to leave another scar? One would have thought they’d learned by now not to rush into fights.
“Hey!” Norvan’s voice came from somewhere to Montevic’s left. They lifted their head just in time to see Norvan launch himself at Marsa, half-feral with claws extended. He slashed at Marsa’s face, drawing blood, and she hissed in rage and pain. Montevic’s blood ran cold as Marsa’s abnormally dark shadow, which Montevic had ignored up to this point, reared up like some strange black claw and wrapped itself around Norvan’s throat, lifting him into the air. Norvan’s legs kicked helplessly as he gasped for air, paws scrabbling at the shadowy thing’s grainy surface. It was strangling him!
Montevic weakly pushed at the rain-sodden grass with their hands, desperately trying to draw enough strength into themself to rescue Norvan. As their head turned, they spotted something lying in the grass: an odd vessel of some kind, made of a greyish metal that glinted oddly in the light cast by the fallen lantern. It lay just within Montevic’s reach and fit neatly in their palm when they wrapped their fingers around its cold, wet surface. They’d intended to chuck it at Marsa and hope her concentration broke enough for Norvan to escape, but a sudden curiosity overtook them at the realization that the lid of the thing had loosened. A faint whispering could be heard from within. Entranced, Montevic opened the jar and stared wide-eyed at the black, swirling contents.
Join us, said the whisper, though more in meaning than in words. We know what you seek. We can help.
Montevic glanced back up at Norvan, whose struggles weakened by the second, then back at the jar. Conviction overwhelmed them. They lifted the jar and the darkness inside spilled out, swarming around and inside and -
“Aaaugh!” Montevic screamed, certain that lightning had fallen from the sky, striking the center of their forehead, coursing through their flesh and across their skin. Black spots crowded out their vision, as if the shadowy substance had filled the whole world, and then slowly, the pain faded.
Montevic inhaled, their breath shuddering. Something thudded into the grass next to them, followed by raspy coughing, then - applause?
“Oh, very good.” Montevic sat up and opened their eyes to see Marsa, standing a few feet away, smiling coldly. “Well done.”
“Norvan.” Montevic pushed the aching exhaustion away, crawling to Norvan’s prone form. He wheezed as he inhaled and Montevic could see the edge of a mottled bruise poking up through the fur, but thankfully, he was still conscious. Montevic wrapped an arm under Norvan’s side and lifted him up into a sitting position. The two curios leaned into each other and simply breathed for a few precious seconds.
Then Marsa had to ruin the moment by opening her mouth. “Look at you two. Sickening.”
“Fuck off,” Montevic muttered, too weary to even flip her a rude sign.
Marsa sighed. “So rude. Well. Whoever you are...you’ve been given a gift. Stolen it, really. But I’m glad to see some curio take initiative. Don’t waste this. Use it. And for saints’ sake, don’t try to follow me.”
Montevic didn’t respond, instead only watching as Marsa whirled around and marched down the hill, wiping the blood from her face with a paw, heading towards destinations unknown.
Marsa’s shape had faded into the distant darkness when Norvan finally spoke. “That was, brave, what you did.”
“Mm.” Montevic was too sore and worn out from hours of walking and everything else to string together a proper response.
“But also incredibly stupid. Don’t ever -” Norvan turned to glare at Montevic, but his voice and expression faltered as he got a good look at their face. “...do...what happened to you?”
“What?” Montevic reached up to touch their face, wincing as their fingers touched something hot and painful. Had they cut themself or something? Their fingers explored farther, to where their forehead mark should be...and found a small, hard shape, like the horn nubs they’d started growing at the beginning of puberty. What?
“Your face...it looks like whatever happened to Marsa.” Norvan’s voice sounded distant. “Montevic...what did you do?”