Cassius Lange
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Midnight Bounties 4 - Chapter 14
🕑 Added 2025-07-03 11:20:05 +0000 UTCThe yellow southern forests gave way to the desolate plains of Vanderbeard’s Plateau. Dry winds whipped across the endless rocky flats forcing us to ride through most of it in silence. I could barely keep my eyes through the gale that swept up sharp sand and dust, then kept throwing it in our faces.
Tyfus was cussing and complaining through much of it. He had his mage’s hat pulled over his face, throwing a fireball here and there out of sheer frustration. The explosions were swallowed by the winds, disappearing as quickly as they detonated. Even Snowdog kept his mouth shut throughout that day, though the Three of Steel rode his heavy warboar with his back straight and shoulders squared as if the wind was nothing but a refreshing breeze.
Though we were a day’s ride away from the Redmaw, its towering presence overshadowed the rest of the landscape. Since the first time it erupted, the Black Mountain never stopped bellowing thick dark smoke and ash across much of the south-east. Entire dwarven cities slept beneath centuries worth of hardened magma and ash.
“From the Ashpit I came, to the Ashpit I will return,” I muttered, amused with the thought.
“What?” Tyfus cried.
“Never mind,” I said.
“Don’t talk unless it’s important. I can’t hear shit, I can’t see shit. I don’t need to waste energy on listening to you yammering about whatnot.”
“Uh-huh.”
The mage was in a foul mood, but so was I. He refused to go back to Sankta Varath and just as I was about to test my new powers on his angry little ass, Snowdog stopped me.
The Three of Steel made the gnome tag along and promised me I had nothing to worry about in regard to Castelian and the fight. He wouldn’t say why or how he’d resolve the issue, but I had learned to trust him, so I went along.
“Here,” Snowdog said as we came upon a house-sized rock formation. We circled it to find a wide entrance that led down a soft slope deeper into the earth. We brough our mounts down into the cave to shelter them against the wind. Wolf, Snowdog’s warboar, and Tyfus’ pony huddled up together and almost immediately fell asleep. No wonder, we had been riding for three days straight, and the poor animals were exhausted but so were we.
“We will spend the night here,” Snowdog said, lowering his vaultpack to the ground and pulling out a whole banquet of different foods.
I grabbed the wood from my own stash and prepared a fire that Tyfus lit with a snap of his fingers. As light spread across the cavern, I realized the walls were full of tribalistic paintings that depicted strange, twisted creatures beneath massive rectangle towers. An ominous feeling swept over me as if I had been there before.
“What are those?” I asked but Snowdog only shrugged as he pulled out a large slab of goat meat grinning with excitement.
“They’ve been there ever since I first discovered this place decades ago. Visions of madness by a maddened race I’d say.”
“Dwarves,” Tyfus hissed as if that explained something.
I dusted off layers of sand from my clothes and what little hair I had and sat down cross-legged onto the cold cavern floor. We sat in silence for a while, recovering from the journey, sipping on drinks and puffing on whatever poison each of us was addicted to. The meat was giving off a mouth-watering smell that made my stomach rumble.
It didn’t take long for Tyfus to continue his tirade, of course.
“So, we’re here at the asscrack of the world staring down into the hot burning asshole of Hell. I know why ol’ Frank here needs to go down that path, I get that you wanted to escort him, Snowdog. But can someone explain to me why in the Dhozen Fires I’m here?”
Snowdog laughed loudly and heartily, poking the meat with his finger.
“I like it a little raw,” he said. Tyfus tapped his fingers against the stone nervously.
“You know,” the mage began. “I’ve been rather patient with the two of you. I think an explanation is the least I could get.”
“Patient,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re lucky you’re still breathing, you traitorous piece of—”
“All in good time,” Snowdog interrupted, then leaned back on his elbows and stretched his legs, looking up at the cavern ceiling. Tyfus gave me the evil eye, so I picked up a pebble and flicked it at his forehead.
“You think that’s funny?” he hissed, rubbing the spot.
“Go die in a ditch.”
“You see that weirdly shaped spider drawing up there, Frank?” Snowdog asked, ignoring the two of us and pointing up. I glanced at it and realized that it did look somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t remember why.
“I once overheard my mother talk to a priest about her dreams. She mentioned seeing something like that spider.”
“Right, now that you’ve mentioned it. I might have seen the same.”
“There was a detail about her description that stuck with me,” Snowdog continued. “She actually didn’t say it was a spider, but an eight-legged machine of steel and flesh. Curious, isn’t it?”
“Sounds about right.”
“Hmm,” Snowdog muttered then went silent.
“And?” Tyfus urged.
“With all that magic energy at Morgefah’s fingertips, isn’t it unusual that he would employ some kind of mechanical contraptions?” the Three of Steel said casually.
“Yeah, yeah, very interesting,” Tyfus said. “Can we get to the fucking point already?”
“Tyfus!” I snapped. “You forget who you’re talking to.”
“No need for that, Frank,” Snowdog said calmly. He sat up. “I’m going to do something for you, Frank. Something I never thought I’d have to do again, but before I do. I want you two to do something for me.”
I swallowed. I knew Snowdog was a great man, but he was also a man with an insatiable taste for perversion. All kinds of troubling thoughts crossed my mind and with Snowdog grinning in silence, it only made them worse. I met Tyfus’ worried gaze, feeling he thought the same.
“I want the two of you,” he said savoring our discomfort. “To have a conversation.”
“Oh, fuck me,” Tyfus breathed out. “A conversation?”
“Yes.”
“Brazendan’s fiery hemorrhoids, I already thought I’d have to bang that unwashed pile of human manure.”
“Would you?” Snowdog asked seriously.
“Fuck no!”
“Alright, then a conversation it is,” he said, slapping his knees. “Go.”
“Go what?” I muttered. “What is there to say? That little asshole betrayed me and the rest of our family and left us to die. And why? So he could suck satyr dick all day.”
“I didn’t—that was in the heat of the moment and—I don’t have to explain myself to you, you stuck-up moron!”
“I’m stuck-up, huh?”
“Yeah! You have a broom up your ass so deep you can taste the tip of the handle!”
“It’s better to be stuck-up than a traitor.”
“And you managed to be both,” the mage shot back.
The entire cavern lit up in purple as the dark energies within me boiled to the surface. Dust swirled up and I clenched my fists and closed my eyes, taking in a long deep breath to calm myself. It barely worked.
I turned to Snowdog,
“You hear that? I should talk to that? He can’t see further than his dick and let me tell you, that’s not very far!”
“Yeah right, small-cock-gnome jokes, here we go!”
“Bah!” I waved him off. “What’s the point? Why would I make amends with someone who’d let the only people who cared about him die? You can go rot in the abbey, Tyfus. You hear me? I don’t ever need to see your face again, gnome.”
“And I yours!”
“Great, then it’s settled!”
“Yeah, it is!”
“Good.”
“Good,” I said and breathed out.
Silence reigned again for a long moment. I took a sip of whiskey from my flask and shook my head, then spoke with a calmer tone.
“I have to go to Hell, Tyfus,” I said but he just looked away. “I can’t save the family. You can, but you won’t.”
“I can’t save them, you idiot,” he hissed through his teeth.
“You won’t even try. That’s the whole point. If you cared for us at all, if you cared for anyone besides yourself—”
“I will die!” the mage yelled as a blast of heat exploded within the cavern, waking our mounts. Wolf raised his head and looked at me for a second, yawned, and then dozed off again.
“You talk a lot about family and friendship and honor, but you don’t give a shit about me. You want to sacrifice me so you can save the others!”
Tyfus stood, his receding hair swirling in the magic energies that engulfed him. The gnome’s eyes were on fire, red and seething, but even with all that scorching heat coming off him, tears formed at the edges of his eyes but evaporated quickly.
“It’s what family is for! It’s what a friend is–”
“You were never my friend, Frank! Never! All you did was use me when it suited you! You dragged me into one battle after the other! Tyfus lets kill Hector, Tyfus lets kill the Harbin Witch, Tyfus I need you to—”
“You wanted to go, you asshole! You wanted the action, the loot, the adrenaline just like I did! Now you’re putting that on me?”
“I wanted to be your fucking friend, you ass!”
I opened my mouth but swallowed the words. The gnome sat back down and wiped his eyes.
“It’s always with the: protect Fey and Spif and Ragul and all the others, but when it came to me? You didn’t care and—don’t you dare mention the Lusty Lion!” he said as I was about to interrupt with that exact point. “You only gave me the club because you had nobody else who could do it. If Ragul wasn’t a fucking vampire, you wouldn’t have thought twice about it, would you? Be honest, Frank. You know it’s true.”
“You were my friend,” I said calmly.
“Bah,” the gnome scoffed, rubbing the back of his head. “There’s nothing I can do in Sankta Varath to stop Castelian and Tarnia, and you know it. What do you expect me to do there anyway? They’ll kill the Midnight Bounties with or without me. Your plan was flawed from the start.”
“I had trust in you, gnome. Despite everything, despite your assholery, your cowardice and your stupidity, you are Tyfus Flatprip a fucking sixth circle mage that can go on par with Tarnia the Ashbringer. You could have found a way. I believed in you.”
“Yeah, believed in me,” he said, followed by another spell of silence.
I looked to Snowdog but he just sat there, expressionless like a statue.
“Anything I’d do to save Fey, I’d do to save you,” I said but Tyfus just sighed.
“Words.”
“You see me as a man of words?”
“I’m amazed on a daily basis that you can read,” he said and chuckled softly, but then turned serious again. “No, I guess you’re not a man of words.” He breathed in and looked up at me. “I can’t stop them, Frank.”
“Whatever you say, Tyfus,” I said and the cavern plunged into a silence again. After a good minute, I turned to Snowdog. “We talked. What now?”
“Now we eat!” he said enthusiastically, poking the meat again. “Charred on the outside, bloody on the inside. Just how I like it.”
“You said I shouldn’t worry about my family. You said you’d handle it. If this was your idea of handling it—”
“Oh, no, you got it all wrong Frank,” he said, slicing off a thick steak from the roast with a small knife. He offered it to me, but my appetite had mysteriously disappeared.
“As you wish,” Snowdog said, biting into it.
Blood and juices ran down the sides of his mouth as he seemingly enjoyed it. He swallowed and pointed the knife at the gnome.
“It’s not good to let a man undertake a great endeavor not knowing what he’ll return to afterwards, Tyfus.” The gnome opened his mouth, but Snowdog continued instead. “On the other hand,” he pointed the knife at me, “How high should our expectations of our friends be? Can we expect them to die when we need them to?”
“Yes,” I said flatly. “When the lives of others depend on it, yes.”
“I see,” Snowdog said, biting into the meat again. He continued his monologue with a mouthful of bloody meat. “I hoped you’d settle your differences here. My goal, after all, is to send you off to Hell so you can do what no Spellmonger did before. I hoped you’d go with a clean conscious and no unresolved issue waiting for you back home, but—” He swallowed and breathed out with a hint of disappointment. “The two of you are difficult folk, if you don’t mind me saying. So here’s what I’ll do. Tyfus, you can go back to the abbey in the morning. Frank, you’ll go where you were headed to already and good ol’ Snowdog, well, he’ll be paying Sankta Varath a visit.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean I’ll take care of Castelian. It’s high time someone put that ugly bastard in his place.”
“You would do that?”
I couldn’t believe my ears. The last thing I hoped for was to bring one of the Three of Steel to replace me in that fight.
“I don’t see another option, my friends. I do have one condition, however” he said, looking at Tyfus. “I’ve created the Peacespeaker’s Abbey for two reasons. I wanted to see if I could create a place of sheer happiness. And I wanted the place to weather the end of the world. Preposterous and mad, I know, but so is the rest of life. With that said, the people of the abbey will need strong individuals that can protect them. If you return to the abbey, Tyfus,” he said, narrowing his eyes on the mage. It was one of those rare occasions when Snowdog was as serious as death. “I will need you to stay there for good, I need you to promise me you’ll be the abbey’s protector no matter what. Can you do that?”
I crossed my arms, looking at my former friend and family member. I can’t say there wasn’t plenty of confusion and uncertainty on his wrinkly face. Part of me still wanted him to throw his hands up and say he’d rather go to Sankta Varath, but another part knew very well what his answer would be. He didn’t even grace me with a look, perhaps in defiance, perhaps in shame. Tyfus nodded.
“You have my word. I’ll stay and protect them.”
I let out a disappointed breath and shook my head.
“Then it’s settled. Tomorrow morning I’m going to Sankta Varath, Tyfus is going to the abbey and you, Frank, you’re going to Hell, unencumbered.”
I leaned back on my elbows and looked up at the ceiling and its paintings. Despite everything, a hint of relief washed over me. At least my family would be safe. Castelian might be a tough prick, but Snowdog…Well, the man could change the weather and shape the earth at his will. No adventurer could come close to that kind of power. The thought brought back some of my appetite, so I cut off a piece from the roast and enjoyed it in silence.
The next morning we packed our things and prepared for one last ride to what were quite possibly the last destinations we’d ever ride to.
The morning sun barely made it through the dust and sand as we saddled our mounts and got ready for departure. Tyfus was silent through the whole thing and so was I. The wind swept across the desolate landscape as Snowdog addressed the both of us,
“Anything you two want to tell each other?”
I sure as shit wasn’t. I had said my piece. Tyfus was looking at his hands for a while before facing me,
“I hope you make it,” he said.
“Aye,” I nodded. “Me too.”
He waited for another moment, perhaps expecting me to say something. Maybe I should have. Maybe I should have wished him luck at least, but there was too much resentment in me. I cared for Fey and Spif, Ragul, Drogna, Fusha…all of them and a great deal at that. I never thought I would, but life had a way of spinning us ways we never thought possible. But none of them shared as much of the heat with me as Tyfus had. He was one of a kind and caused me plenty of headache, but perhaps as someone said, it was because we were so similar in many regards. He was my friend, maybe he was even my best friend.
“That’s it then,” he said, realizing I wasn’t going to say anything. “See you at the abbey, Snowdog.”
He spurred on his pony and disappeared the way we’d come from.
I met Snowdog’s eyes and he seemed only the tinniest bit concerned. He smiled nevertheless.
“Ready?”
“I don’t think you can ever be ready for this shit.”
“Any doubts?”
“All of them. And before you ask, yes, I’m scared to bits, and I really would rather not go to Hell.”
“Aye, natural. You’ll have to ride the rest of the way on your own. There’s only one way into the Redmaw and I’m sure you’ll find the rest of your path from there.”
“Aye,” I nodded.
“Frank, one more thing.” He grabbed the bracelet on his wrist and unclasped it. I raised a curious eyebrow.
“The Listener?” I asked.
“Yes. It’s yours.” He handed it to me and I took it somewhat reluctantly.
“How is this going to help me in Hell, Snowdog? I kind of doubt there’ll be too much conversation down there.”
“Probably, yes. But there will be once you return.”
“Huh,” I muttered inspecting the rather simple-looking silver piece engraved with different runic symbols. I understood what he was trying to do. He was offering me hope rather than an item. It was quite the gesture, too. The Listener was immensely powerful in the right hands.
“Well then,” Snowdog said, cracking his neck. “Break the cycle, Spellmonger, I believe in you.”
“Aye, thank you,” I said.
He nodded, looked north, then spurred on his warboar and rode off. I watched him go until he disappeared into the distance, then turned my gaze to the Redmaw. I clasped on the bracelet first.
[ITEM: The Listener]
[DESCRIPTION: Renders the wearer immune to all levels of persuasion-type abilities.]
A drap but to-the-point description. Well, if I got lucky, maybe I’d find a use for it in Hell, too. I had my share of arguing with demons already.
The Redmaw billowed its black smoke high up into the sky, blackening what little sunshine there was. I breathed out, cracked my neck, and Wolf moved.
Hell, it was about time.
