“We can’t thank you enough for getting us here.”

Summers bowed to the Captain in front of him. The man returned his bow stiffly.

“It was my pleasure…” The Captain straightened, looking Summers in the eye. “We’ll be leaving in just a few hours. You won’t have to worry about us at all.”

Summers wasn’t sure how that was supposed to assure him, but he nodded all the same, waving the other sailors goodbye before heading towards the long dock at his back.

Looking up, he saw a man hanging from a tree near the port. He had long claws on his hands, not unlike a cat’s, with small bone-like structures crisscrossing along his chest.

Summers again ensured the tunic he wore was securely tied on. He hadn’t attempted to remove the rest of the hard, gray skin or spines that covered his torso and legs. They didn’t impede his movement too much, and with his sense of pain now back in full force, it wasn’t high on his list of priorities. That could change very soon.

Their arrival into port had been mostly without issue, the townspeople more than welcoming to their small ship. But they still had one major problem.

The bodies that hung as warning signs to outsiders were more than just mutants. Summers looked up once more at the ears of the man hanging. They were round, human ears.

This man had, at some point, been one of their own. Maybe someone that had gone through exactly what Summers had.

Maybe they’d been driven crazy by the hamr, Summers couldn’t imagine the locals would be able to take down actual soldiers. Not if they still had their weapons. He had to assume these men were deserters, or maybe people that had been lost like they were. Either way, now they had a lead. If there were more like them, they might be able to get some answers.

Synel approached Summers as he departed the ship.

“…I’ve spoken to the Captain and his men. I can assure you none will be spreading rumors anytime soon.” Synel offered Summers her hand as he stepped on to the dock.

It took him a moment to understand what she was saying. The last time they’d been in town, the merchants they’d travelled with had more or less destroyed any semblance of cover they had. Apparently, Synel had learned from, and foreseen a similar situation here.

Synel gave him a half smile, seeing the understanding on his face.

“I hope not, anyway. Had to employ some very colorful language and I’d hate for you to follow up on those threats.” Synel eyed the Captain behind her.

Summers nodded in understanding. He had noticed the man looked a little anxious. Now he knew why that was.

Still, at least her heart was in the right place. Sort of. If the hanging bodies were any indication, the locals probably would not take kindly to Summers’ recent changes either.

“Don’t suppose you have any friends we can talk to here?” Summers eyed the woman.

“It depends…” Synel walked beside him towards the village proper. “What would you constitute as a friend?”

“He’s a slave merchant.”

Synel led the group through the small marketplace that lay at the center of the city. She’d explained that this far south, she wasn’t familiar with many locals. However, she did know one man that happened to trade between the various cities of the north and south using one of the few resources neither would deny.

Synel had clarified that she’d often act as a courier for men like him, buying the freedom of his “wares” with coin the families sent. Many were simply sold into slavery after battles between cities, debt, or more often, as the prizes of duels between affluent houses.

Though Summers had never met the man, he could tell they weren’t going to get along. But he could be someone that could help them.

Asle had wandered off along with Nowak and found some information on the town’s “décor”. The bodies that hung from the trees and walls were invaders, or maybe they’d consider them to be more like bandits, possibly even monsters themselves given how the armed townsfolk seemed to regard them. They’d shown up in droves throughout the night over the past few weeks, some more bestial than human, attacking anything that moved. They were faster, and stronger than most of the elves, however they were badly outnumbered, and an arrow would still kill a man no matter how strong or fast he was.

That wasn’t to say they’d gotten off easy though. Asle had learned that more than a third of the town had been lost defending against just ten of the enemies. Summers was only thankful the infected soldiers hadn’t brought weapons. Or else they’d have arrived to another smoking crater in the ground.

They eventually found themselves at a stall not unlike the others. The man behind it, a skinny elf with long, greasy dark hair, greeted Synel with a bow.

“Mr. Fritjof…” Synel returned the bow.

“Ms. Synel, it is a pleasure to see you again.” He glanced to Summers and the others, inclining his head to them. “Would this be a business related, or personal?”

“…We were hoping you may be able to help us.” Synel gestured to Summers. “My friends are mercenaries here looking for work, I believed you may know something about the local…” Synel paused. “…Landscape for such things.”

“Unless you’re in need of my wares, I’m afraid I can’t be of much service.”

Synel paused at that, glancing at Summers.

He understood the meaning. Synel had warned them most merchants were less than charitable. It was clear the man wanted payment before he started talking.

And Summers was not about to make that kind of deal. New world’s laws or not, he did not want to be the kind of man that helped assholes like this.

“…We’re not interested…” Summers started.

“How can you know before you’ve seen what I have?” Fritjof pressed. “In fact, I’ve recently acquired a prisoner from one of the past few battles. A strange woman, with an even stranger strength. Surely warriors of your stature would be interested in such a specimen.”

Summers blinked, looking back at Synel.

“…Tell me more about them.”

Fritjof led the group through a small warehouse in the back of town. It had been heavily guarded as they made their way to a small basement filled with smaller, bricked off rooms. They looked more like medieval jail cells than anything.

“…As for where they’re coming from, I can only tell you it’s somewhere east of here. The fools hardly say a thing and speak gibberish otherwise. From what I’ve heard of other towns, they seem to just be wandering on their own.” The man tapped at the side of his head. “I think it may be a sickness of the mind.”

Summers tilted his head. The man wasn’t far off with that guess.

“But this…” Synel struggled with the word. “Merchandise you’ve acquired, has it said anything?”

“As I said, only gibberish. I don’t see any value with her as a worker, but if stories are to be believed she would make a fine addition to any arena, as I’m sure men like your friends are familiar with. The novelty alone…”

Fritjof led them to a small alcove at the end of the hall. Beside it, he saw small stone chips scattered beside the wall. The merchant must have noticed him looking because he spoke up a moment later.

“She’s proven quite… difficult to control. But she is a warrior of the upmost quality.”

Fritjof moved to the cell door, pulling out a key as guards moved from behind Summers, spears ready. As he opened the door, Summers saw a woman in army fatigues slumped up against the far wall, chains covering her from head to toe. Her eyes were a solid black, with long, spider-like limbs growing from her back almost impossibly thin frame.

“…Home…”

Summers could hear the woman whispering to herself even from here. Her gaze was unfocused, staring down at her own legs as she repeated the word.

“Home…”

Summers took a deep breath before he spoke again.

“…How much?”

“If this thing’s started rewriting her mind why’d it bother with the extra…. Parts?” Cortez stared at the four legs that jutted from the woman’s back.

They’d found a small home that they’d rented for the night. While an inn may be big enough for their small group, it was far too public for what they had in mind.

“…I don’t know.” Summers looked at the woman. She’d been silent the entire trip there. “Maybe it’s a survival thing. It wants to maximize the odds its ‘host’ lives.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to keep them the same, then?” Cortez replied.

“Or maybe it’s just to make them better killers.” Nowak suggested. “You saw what that thing was like in the city. And you said it needed bodies. Didn’t say they needed to be alive.”

“Right.” Summers sat in the small couch of the living room. “Even so, I don’t think the hamr wasn’t supposed to be a weapon.”

“What part of this thing doesn’t sound like a weapon to you?” Cortez asked.

“It can rewrite a person’s brain on the fly, with that kind of technology do you really think we’d stand a chance against an actual, real weapon?”

“…Fair point.” Cortez acceded.

Summers put a hand on his head, they’d sent the twins to guard their slowly shrinking stash of weapons outside. Pat and Orvar stood at the back of the house, watching the woman as she sat in a chair against the far wall.

She hadn’t said a word since they’d brought her there. Or done much of anything, really. Though they’d still kept the chains on her, whether or not she was been from their world, they weren’t taking chances. They’d been speaking English the entire time they’d been in the house and the woman hadn’t reacted at all, she hadn’t even blinked.

“Do you think you can do your thing on her, Summers?” Cortez wondered, gesturing to her head.

Summers considered the woman in front of him.

“I already looked at her…” Summers noticed the others staring at him. “Look I can sort of feel where it is when I put my hand on her head. It’s… there’s so much of it. I’d just be tearing out her brain at this point.”

“So, what do we do with her then?” Cortez moved forward, snapping her fingers in front of the woman’s face. She didn’t react.

Summers noticed Asle staring from the other side of the room, she was frowning.

“Asle, what’re you thinking?”

“…I think she can hear us.” Asle stated.

Summers glanced at the girl, then back to the soldier. She still hadn’t moved in the slightest.

“What makes you say that?”

“She stopped talking when she heard us talk.” Asle pointed a finger at the woman. “She knows we can understand her.”

Summers eyed the woman again. What Asle said might be true, but at the same time it didn’t change anything.

“So, what now?” Summers looked to the others. “Whether she’s staying quiet on her own or not, it’s not like we can bring her along.”

“Well, we can’t just set her free. And at the same time, we can’t kill her.” Nowak stated.

“…Why not?” Asle asked.

The others looked at her in shock.

“I think what Asle is trying to say is that the life of a slave is not a… happy one.” Synel put an arm on Asle’s shoulder. “Many would prefer death if they had a choice.”

“For what it’s worth, I agree with the kid.” Cortez raised her hands. “She’s basically dead already. Torture isn’t an option and probably wouldn’t do jack shit and like you said, she’s too dangerous to bring along. What other options we got?”

“…We’re not killing one of ours.”

“Sarge…” Cortez protested.

“End of discussion.” Nowak stated flatly. “We’ll take her back to the slaver in the morning. It’s not a perfect solution but it’s the best we have.”

“…I’m sure we can convince him to take back his… merchandise.” Synel agreed. “…At a steep discount.”

Asle didn’t look happy, but she said nothing. Summers wasn’t sure he agreed but he kept his silence as well.

“So, this was a total loss then?” Summers asked.

“She was one of ours.” Nowak corrected. “We had to try. You know that.”

“Yeah…” Summers agreed. “Then nothing left but to keep going?”

Nowak nodded, still thinking.

“I’ve managed to secure mounts enough for us and your… luggage.” Synel explained. “We’ll be able to leave the town in the morning.”

“You two think you can take guard?” Nowak motioned to Pat and Orvar, they nodded in turn.

“And you’re sure you don’t want to tell us your name?” Cortez prodded the bound soldier. Predictably, she said nothing. “…Fuck it, I tried.” Cortez moved off, looking more annoyed than anything.

Summers sighed, still watching the woman. He’d hoped they’d be able to do something for her, or at least learn something.

As he stood, he saw one of the restrained, spider-like limbs twitch. Summers froze, then moved forward. The woman didn’t so much as look at him.

Summers turned, moving back towards the small bedroom at the back of the house.

At least they’d get a quiet night before they dove into whatever the hell was waiting for them.

Asle had found it difficult to sleep that night.

There was noise outside, a party of some sort she thought. Yells would break the silence every so often, just enough to keep Asle awake. Sighing, she quietly moved the covers off from her. Synel still slept quietly a few feet away, seemingly clueless to the girl’s movements.

Slowly, she moved to the door, and the hallway outside. Only a few were awake time of night, but that was exactly what she needed.

Asle had been up all-night thinking. She had no intention of letting the soldier go, the others knew that she was too dangerous to let free, but at the same time they didn’t have it in them to kill the woman in cold blood.

She understood that. They were strangers to her world. They had no idea what life as a slave was like.

Asle wouldn’t have wished that fate on her worst enemy.

And so, with sleep eluding her, and with nothing better to do, she crept through the hall, towards the living space that held the woman. Pat and Orvar should still be on guard. It wouldn’t take much to sway them to her side.

Death was a preferable alternative to the life of a slave, especially a woman. They knew that, and she’d hoped they would help her sway the others to their side. Asle was confident the woman herself would have agreed. If she was still able to think.

Even Summers had told them as much when he’d pulled the monster from his head. He would have rather died than lived as something else.

Then, as Asle reached the end of the hall, she heard a scream. It was distant, but it was almost definitely one of terror. She turned her head towards the noise just as another erupted, closer this time.

Asle hurried her pace towards the room sensing something was wrong, then froze.

Pat and Orvar lay unconscious, slumped against a wall in the living space as the soldier still sat in the seat at the end of the room.

Her body had opened up, split down the middle. And the black, almost liquid form of the hamr oozed from the opening.

It stopped in kind as Asle entered, a small tendril wrapped around Orvar’s leg.

Asle was sure that wasn't good.

The tendril suddenly shifted, lunging for her. Asle fell to the side more in fear than anything as the creature sailed over her. Asle crawled, scrabbling for the sidearm at Pat’s hip.

Just as the creature would envelop her, she managed to fire off a single shot into the woman’s head.

Then, everything went dark.