Beyond the Western Deep

ORAN! Of course, it’s all connected. But can I also add that my favorite element of this page is not the reveal of Hardin’s lineage, but every ermehn’s O_O expression in the final panel. I was gunning for surprise, of course: the action line in the script reads:

The entire group, sans Hardin and Kenosh, looks stunned.

Rachel, as usual, NAILED IT.

There’s a certain chill in the air as of late, and it’s not simply the turning of the seasons. No, no — this is the kind of chill associated with spooky, scary skeletons (aka skellingtons aka skeklingtons) and things that go bump in the night.

No, I’m not talking about David S. Pumpkins. I’m talking about a proper WESTERN DEEP GHOST STORY. Instead of guest art this week, I’m treating you to a little in-universe ghost story I call…

*throws gunpowder into a roaring fire*

The Mountain Patrol

Most canid soldiers know that Deltrada Garrison used to be an ermehn fortress. It was built for the same reason Deltrada was: to keep the “enemy” barricaded in the north, guarding the only viable path south: a valley between two of Dunia’s most inhospitable mountain ranges. When the ermehn ruled Deltrada, the canid were forced to live in the Wastes. When the canid rebelled, the ermehn took their place.

The mountains that surround this valley have always been lightly populated, given the terrible snowstorms and bitter cold capable of freezing solid any living creature in a matter of moments. Still, when the canid took control of the valley, they insisted on having patrols in the mountains to ensure no ermehn were slipping past them.

These patrols very quickly came to be feared by the canid rank-and-file. They tended to be populated by troublemakers and repeat-offenders, soldiers that needed to be disciplined in some way. When a soldier froze to death in the mountains, it was chalked up to their inability as a soldier. When frostbite would take their limbs, it was considered a good excuse to knock them down into the omega caste and out of active service.

Still, the general in charge of Deltrada took these patrols seriously, and knew they needed expert help to train their recruits.

A former canid mercenary, having spent a lifetime hunting ermehn and runaway criminals throughout Aisling and the Wastes, was asked by the general to volunteer her time up in Deltrada to teach the recruits a thing or two about mountain patrols. She refused at first, insisting that she had sacrificed enough to the mountains surrounding Deltrada. The general persisted, incapable of taking no for an answer, leaving the mercenary little choice in the matter.

The morning of their first outing, the clouds hung lower than usual. The mercenary stood atop the battlements of Deltrada and stared up into the cliffs, countless crags and caves obscured by the heavy clouds. Beside her, two young canid recruits stood at attention. One, a problem-pup named Dorian from a rich family in Arklow being put through the wringer as a discipline exercise, and the other, Hel, a runt from an alpha military family out to prove his worth.

“We’re not going up today,” the mercenary said. “I’ll talk to the general and we’ll postpone the patrol.”

But the general was unmoved. After all, the mercenary’s presence at Deltrada was to teach the recruits how to survive such conditions. Following a heated argument, the mercenary and the two canid recruits began their long trip into the mountains the following dawn.

The trio ventured through snowy tundra, climbing rocky peaks and pushing deeper into the mountains than most canid dared to go. But with the storm sitting low, constantly threatening to plunge them into a hellish blizzard, they did not have the luxury of idling.

“I know a safe place,” the mercenary said. “A cave. We’ll reach it by dusk.”

True to her word, the trio reached a yawning fissure in the mountain just as the storm began to descend upon them once and for all. Snowflakes began to swirl about them, and the temperature dropped precipitously. Gusts of wind chased them inside, and night quickly fell.

The cave was jagged stone, a heavy chill permeating within, icy runnels crossing the floor and along the walls. It was dark, even for the canid soldiers.

“Get a fire going,” the mercenary ordered. “I’ll check the back.”

“The back?” Hel asked.

“Of the cave,” the mercenary said. “It goes back a ways. Never know who’s lurking.”

Hel and Dorian exchanged a nervous look, but dutifully took to building a campfire for the night. They opened their packs and produced kindling and tinder they’d brought along, the harsh mountain environs not offering them any substitutes en route. The mercenary’s first lesson had been that they bring everything they need ahead of time, for the mountain yielded very little in sustainable supplies.

The fire was roaring in short order, and the mercenary returned from the darkness beyond seemingly no worse for wear.

“Anything back there?” Dorian asked.

She simply shook her head. The moment she sat at the fire, a strange wind seemed to carry up from the darkness beyond, bringing with it a foul portent from deep within the mountainside.

“How far back does it go?” Hel asked.

The mercenary produced a pouch of dried meat from her pack. “Deep into the mountains. Deep enough to live a lifetime and never see the sky. The wind we hear from within… it is a wind of death from the darkest place in Dunia.” The mercenary’s voice was a low growl. “Ermehn and canid alike have perished all over those mountains, seeking shelter in the dark places out of the cold. Places like this cave. Here they perish, never to be found.”

Hel was unsettled, but intrigued. Then, he looked around them in the cave and saw dark stains in the rock. Black with age, but the scent of blood was unmistakable. “You fought ermehn in this cave?”

The mercenary ripped off a piece of dried meat, chewing loudly in the otherwise silent cavern. “A few.”

“Tell us!” Hel begged. “No better way to prove your worth than bringing a few ermehn heads back to the garrison!”

Before the mercenary could respond, the wind returned, this time colder and more biting than any previous gust that had journeyed up from the depths. The fur on the napes of the recruits’ necks stood at attention.

The mercenary smirked when she saw the two recruits shiver. After a moment, she spoke. “When I was but a pup, just a little older than you, I was in a patrol with two others: a navigator, and my superior. Both good soldiers, good fighters. But the sharpest sword won’t help you fight the cold. A storm dropped atop us, clouds sitting low on the mountainside. We hunted for shelter and found this cave. We huddled up inside, but we were so cold and wet that we couldn’t smell the ermehn hunters who had holed up further inside.”

Both recruits cast a furtive glance at the darkness beyond their fire, where the cold air from the depths of the world seeped forth.

The wind howled again, starting low, but quickly building to a shriek that seemed to ebb and flow around the otherwise empty cavern. The flames in the campfire danced to and fro, and Hel poked the tinder with his sword to keep them going.

“What happened then?” Dorian asked.

“We were ambushed,” the mercenary said. She offered it matter-of-factly, as if she’d told this story many times. “Ermehn hunters waited until we’d set our weapons down, then they rushed us. I was the only survivor, and only one of the ermehn was left alive by the time the fighting stopped.”

The fire was sinking lower now, casting strange shadows over the mercenary’s hardened features.

“I made that ermehn suffer, like none before it.” The mercenary gestured to a particularly heavy set grouping of black stains in the rock. A fatal amount of blood loss, to be certain. “He flailed and scratched, so I broke his arms. He wouldn’t stop looking at me, so I put out his eyes. He wouldn’t stop squirming, so I wrapped him in our tent sheet, and tied it tight with rope. Then I threw him out into the storm and watched him freeze to death just beyond the cave entrance. He howled and howled, but the mountain was quick to take him.”

Hel and Dorian blinked in shock. The canid were capable of doing unspeakable things to the ermehn, but even then, such tortures were unknown to the green recruits. The mercenary sneered at their reticence.

“What? Don’t have the stomach for it? What are you even here for then?”

Suddenly, a sharp blast of wind coursed out from the darkness within the mountain. The fire instantly went out.

“Damn.” The mercenary opened her pack and rummaged around for a moment before she froze.

“Do you hear that?” She asked.

Hel and Dorian exchanged a glance. “Hear what?” Hel asked.

“Nothing.” The mercenary cast a glance behind her, further into the cave, then seemed to suddenly get very uneasy. “I… nothing.”

Silence for a fleeting moment. Then, in the far-off distance, they heard it.

Aaawooooo…

“It’s the wind,” Dorian said. “The wind and nothing more.”

But the mercenary seemed less inclined to believe that. She peered outside the cave mouth, where the storm raged in the darkness. “We can’t go out there.”

“Go out where?” Hel asked. “Not outside? What are you talking about? Why would we go out there? We’d freeze in a matter of moments!”

“Of course we would,” the mercenary said. “I’m just saying, we can’t go outside.”

“Right,” Dorian said. “That’s why we’re–.”

Aaawooooo!

It was closer now. Very close. The wind and snow swirled outside the cave entrance, but there was something out there. A shape. The night given form.

The mercenary’s breathing was quicker now. She had grabbed her sword and was holding it tight to her chest. “I don’t believe it,” she said, over and over again. “I don’t believe it. I don’t believe it.”

Another strange gust of wind… and the sound returned. But it was clearer now. It wasn’t just a shrieking gust of wind, but a word:

Yooooou!

The mercenary sneered and unsheathed her blade. “You won’t take me, you hear? You won’t take me!”

There was a brief flash of light, perhaps from the moon that was otherwise obscured beyond the clouds and snow high above the mountaintops. There, hidden amongst the layers of driving snow, was an ermehn. Wrapped in a sheet, eyes nothing but black sockets, blood seeping from within. Somehow, its arms were freed from the shroud, skeletal shapes reaching forward, bursting forth from the shambling creature.

The mercenary screamed in terror. “I killed you! I watched you die!” She stumbled away from them then, further into the cave and the darkness beyond. “You won’t take me!” The mercenary shouted. “You won’t take me!”

Outside, the ermehn creature’s voice carried on the wind, coursing through the cave and echoing off every surface:

Yooooou!

And then, nothing.

The storm stopped. Hel and Dorian sat in the cave, petrified. They slowly turned behind them, to the terrible darkness at the far end. Somewhere within, their mercenary guide had fled.

“Hello?” Dorian shouted. “Ma’am? Can you hear us?”

Silence. And then, something else. Breathing. Sobbing.

Hel opened his pack and produced a torch. “She’s in trouble,” he said. “We need to–”

He never finished his sentence. The moment he lit the torch, its light cast on the far passage.

There, just beyond their campfire, was the corpse of the canid mercenary.

Her arms had been broken, her eyes gouged out. Her corpse was tied in a sheet, bound thick with rope. Her mouth had been twisted by prolonged pain and suffering.

Beyond the corpse, the ermehn stood, its bloodied and broken form barely able to stand. Its mouth opened, a gaping black hole filled with shattered teeth stretching impossibly long.

From the void in its mouth, a howl of wind filled the cave with the sounds of a thousand wailing ermehn, the final screams of all those slain in the mountains by canid patrols.

Hel and Dorian fled from the cave in terror.

Neither would ever patrol again.

Happy Halloween!