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Adventures of Dusty Yote

Chapter 2 - Dusty and the Barbarian

7308 words

The coyote was surprised. The skunk barreled at him like a wild bull, surprisingly fast for his size and easily trampling bushes and brush underfoot. He rose his ax above his head and looked like he was barely slowed down or thrown off-balance by the weight. Clearly the magic had made him quite physically strong and could be dangerous.

But it was still the order of the church that Dusty try not to damage him too much. And thanks to adjusting his shield and staying at a fair distance during the whole conversation, Dusty did have a bit of an advantage. He put his shield in front of him close to his chest, then pushed out and grunted. The gemstone in his circlet shone, and then a large shockwave radiated out and away from him.

Now it was the skunk's turn to be surprised. The barreling was immediately stopped as the skunk flew head-over-heels backwards and his ax was knocked aside. He fell back in the earth a short ways from Dusty with a thump as the coyote readied his sword grip and lowered his shield slightly.

"I do not want to hurt you if I can," Dusty said as the skunk rose to his hands and knees, shivering. "Consider that a warning."

Bernard did not move. He remained where he was as he lifted to his knees and did not even look up at Dusty.

"I am no mere town Guard, that I have kept from you," Dusty said. "I am a member of the Order of the Holy Sacrament, and have more than just that to guard against you. I am willing to use the training of my Order both in spirit and in combat to face against you."

Dusty became vaguely aware that the skunk was panting. A black paw reached up from the ground to clutch at his chest.

"How do you respond?" Dusty asked, now feeling unsure of himself.

Bernard finally looked up and Dusty saw a manic, hungry grin on the charcoal-colored face. Wind whistled through his bared teeth and his eyes looked almost rabid. He heaved a few times as he stood up, slowly grabbing his ax as he eyed the coyote up and down. Whereas before he could have passed for simply a larger-than-normal skunk, now to Dusty he looked very beast-like indeed, remaining hunched over as though primal and looking like he was near to slavering.

"You... you have so much magic in you," he growled. "Not like those woodsmen; they are nothing compared to what I felt in that blast. Perhaps I shall drain the magic from you and use it to take on the reptilian myself. You will do wonderfully..."

If Dusty thought the skunk was fast earlier, this time didn't even leave him enough room to use his shockwave spell. He was forced to raise his shield and bash the skunk's ax out of the way then slashed at him with his sword. But the beast was too fast for Dusty's strike; he dodged backwards and tried to slash at him again; Dusty had to scramble backwards to get out of the long range of the battleaxe.

"We are united by a common enemy," Dusty said, regaining himself. "And yet the moment I suggested you might be in trouble, you try and attack me. What is your reason?"

He slashed a few times in quick succession, forcing the skunk to change his grip to defend. Then his gemstone shone again and his sword began to glow with a bright golden light. He swing again hard at the skunk's side, and the giant beast toppled over and nearly lost his grip on the ax as the sword nearly exploded on impact. He took some time to recover and stand up again, clearly taken aback both by the spell and by Dusty's sudden aggression.

"Give me your MAGIC..." the beast growled.

The next swing of the ax was nowhere near Dusty. Instead, the skunk traced a large circle in the ground around himself. Dusty wondered if the skunk was more out-of-it than he seemed if he wasn't going for him. But as the coyote watched the strange display, the dust particles suddenly turned different colors, a rather nauseous purple and a surprisingly vibrant yellow, and lingered in the air around the skunk. He closed his eyes, and suddenly he looked oddly serene, opening his eyes to look calmly at the coyote.

"Give it a whiff, little coyote, and let your mind and body become mine."

Dusty froze. Something in his mind started churning, then roiling, as he pondered what the skunk was doing. He watched as the skunk waved the battleaxe and then his own tail to coat them in the multi-colored particles... and then what he was doing finally clicked into place.

"...oh no..."

The coyote breathed in deep, determined to hold it in for as long as possible. When he assumed he'd gathered enough air, he charged in for the skunk in an attempt to throw him off-balance and keep him from casting any further. Shield first with his sword close behind, he aimed himself at the skunk like a canine battering ram, slamming into the skunk's side. The skunk grunted with pain and reeled backwards, and it took all of Dusty's own willpower not to do the same as he collided. He glanced off the side as well as he could and ran out of the cloud, determined not to stay inside the dust any longer than he needed to.

The skunk now charged at Dusty. He swung his ax, and it was only at the last second that Dusty realized he was aiming short; the skunk's goal was no longer a body blow to injure Dusty but to hook his shield and throw it aside. Dusty used his momentum to keep moving away to block and parry the ax, but it only took the skunk one more step and another swing before he'd caught Dusty's shield and nearly threw him aside. It was enough. Dusty gasped as he felt pulled away and lifted slightly off the ground trying to keep his shield near him, and grunted as he rolled on the ground.

"Let my scents bring you to relaxed stillness. Let yourself be calmed by the sweet aromas. It's okay to not fight anymore."

The smell that invaded Dusty's nostrils was almost cloyingly sweet. The spurt of nausea was enough to knock Dusty out of the haze that was beginning to settle on him, but he stumbled as he felt his joints almost slowly begin to pause and lock-up. The cloud of particles was making him almost feel drunk and uncomfortably warm yet also felt sickeningly close to the early stages of paralysis. He only barely got out of the way before the skunk's ax thudded into the ground next to him, still fighting to keep his breath so that more of the paralytic spores wouldn't reach him.

Dusty swung his sword wildly and managed to get off a small shockwave, but it only made the skunk temporarily pause in his advance and he continued as soon as the energy dissipated. Adrenaline kicked in and the coyote was able to rise and dash out of the main cloud of particles, not even daring to breathe until he'd reached clean air. It was not going good, and the skunk seemed able to turn the particles into magic dust almost as soon as they'd left the ground.

The skunk came forward with a more traditional swing, and this time Dusty was able to easily knock it aside with sword and shield. But instead of getting knocked aside by the parry, the skunk leaned into it and spun around. The edge of his tail brushed against the coyote, fur tickling his nose as it softly and teasingly swept over him. Some of the particles were left on the coyote's armor and fur, and he sneezed as the sweet smell began to overpower his senses.

"Do you feel it? You stopped to play with me. You're beginning to find my aromas irresistible, aren't you, like a haze you just can't shake."

Dusty cursed himself for not expecting that form of counter-attack, particularly considering he'd seen the skunk coat the tail earlier. His eyes now felt harder to close, his limbs grew stiffer and ached horribly, and the scent both made him feel nauseated and drunken so it was hard to stand up straight. His next shield-charge at the skunk to try and turn the pace around barely bumped the side, though it knocked him just enough to prevent a passing swing. Even then it was only a moment later that he realized he was slowing down and turning around, as though waiting for the skunk to catch up.

The coyote wasn't playing with the skunk. Dusty's mind screamed at him to run away from those damned magic spores, but he couldn't. More and more a sort of disorientation was taking hold that made it difficult to turn away, half allured by the scent and half his body just not wanting to respond to him. The skunk's advanced slowed, coming forward like he was stalking the coyote, and the most that Dusty could keep away from him was to match him step-for-step in the opposite direction.

The skunk took the battleaxe, put it on the ground, and heaved up a huge cloud of dust particles towards the coyote. Dusty saw the particles begin to change almost as soon as they leaped up at him and he had barely any time to react. He managed to roll mostly out of the way, but not before a large puff of them had caught on his back. He felt dazed and languorous as he rose to his knees, feeling a distinct throbbing somewhere below his gut, and a combination of the increasing haze and his growing paralysis kept him kneeling there. His heart beat in his chest. He kept his sword and shield at the ready almost by instinct, as the haze made him want to put it down and the paralysis grew stronger as though he could hardly move at all.

"Let your thoughts slow as they become awash in the haze of my scent. There is no need to fight this. I only want to keep the village safe and protected much as you do. But to do that you must give your power to me..."

The skunk may have tried to keep talking, but as he approached, Dusty gritted his teeth. He took his sword and swung it as hard as he could with both hands in what he thought would be a final sense of rebellion. The blade hit the massive battleaxe with a CLANG and suddenly it went flying, out of the unsuspecting skunk's paws, a few feet away before thudding so hard it embedded itself and stood upright in the soft earth.

---

Coyote and skunk looked at each other. Dusty could hardly move. It felt like the haze was sticky and slowing him down and he could barely focus on anything but the skunk. His limbs were almost entirely stiffened and he remained with his hands up and the sword pointed at the skunk's nose. But there was still a trace of defiance in his eyes, and it was with pride that he could see the skunk with wide eyes and shrunken irises at his sudden swing. The coyote, heaving and panting, grinned as he knelt there.

The grin slowly faded. It felt like it was getting more and more difficult to call up his magical reserves. He could feel them ebb and flow, trying to come up but suddenly blocked before he could call upon his powers. His sword would light and fade, his shield would vibrate and then slow down again. And with every inhale of the particles that remained in the air he could call up less and less power, both unable to move and unable to fling some spell at the beast.

And yet the skunk looked absolutely terrified. In fact, quite a bit had changed about the skunk that Dusty now noticed. The dark look was gone, the shadow around him had disappeared, and his eyes were no longer glassy and lifeless. The look on his face was at first strange to Dusty, not staring at the sword tip pointed between his eyes but instead looking at the defiant look on the coyote's face. It took a while for the coyote to realize it: the skunk did not fear for his life but for what he had nearly done to the coyote.

"I... I'm sorry," Bernard said softly.

Despite the genuine note in the skunk's voice, the paralytic spores were strong enough that Dusty could not move to actually remove his sword and let the skunk talk. Not to mention his wavering and almost drunken haze he was still dealing with, though Bernard's voice was oddly clear.

"I do not mean to harm you," Bernard said, sinking to his knees so he was almost level with Dusty. "I do not know what came over me. I only wish to keep these people safe. And you... your magic is powerful, far beyond anything I've felt or seen. I felt like I wanted to take just a fraction of it to give me just enough power to keep the woodsmen safe. But what I almost did to you... would certainly put me as a beast."

The skunk's voice was gentle, warm, and a touch melancholic. For the first time since talking with him, Dusty wondered if he wasn't a little sad. Still, there was a job to do.

"Leave... the woodsmen... alone."

His tongue felt heavy in his mouth even when he had summoned up the energy to move it. Every word was an effort and he had to breathe heavily just to get the energy to get them out. They were blocked by haze and stiffened by the spores, and he was sure that if he was not half paralyzed he would have damn near fallen into the skunk's chest from an inability to stand with whatever that other poison was... which seemed to make that both a viable and alluring option.

But Bernard at least had the patience to wait until he finished. "You were right. I perhaps have done more harm than good. Now that I see your caliber and felt your own magic potential, I realize that I cannot stand nor wield such magic without becoming, in essence, corrupted. My methods were too harsh, and I reacted rashly to your righteous anger. I promise you I will never bother the woodsmen again if you leave me be."

"What... will you... give... as... a token... of your... promise?"

"Give me your sword."

It wasn't like Dusty had much of a choice anyways; his hands were frozen where they were and knocking aside the battleaxe had almost knocked the sword loose. The skunk was easily able to pull it from his paws. He brought his own tail around, and without warning lopped off a large chunk of his own fur. In front of Dusty he braided them together until they had made a neat little bundle.

"I give you this. And if you see me again after this, you are free to treat me as the criminal I am. You have won, Master Yote."

"Have... I... though?"

Bernard cradled a hand under Dusty's chin, and the gentle touch combined with the close proximity made the coyote shiver. "You wanted me to stop taking the woodsmen away? Then I shall, and so you will have completed what you set out to do on behalf of the Guild."

Dusty, fighting off the paralysis and the haze, rose a little straighter. Not enough to stand up but enough to at least get his head out of the skunk's paw and keep away from the pull of falling into that soft belly. "You better keep... your promise... or else I will make you pay... as much as my oath... from the Order... will allow."

"You shouldn't have to," Bernard said with a smile. "I will keep doing my part to protect the people of Riverwood, but from afar, and you won't have to worry about me again."

Dusty nodded.

Bernard helped sheathe his sword and placed the tied-up piece of his own fur within Dusty's paw. It wasn't much but Dusty was able to tighten his hand slightly around the token, and the skunk's paws gently cradled Dusty's own and helped guide his fingers around it. When that was done, he took up another bit of dust.

"One more," Bernard said, "so that I may go away easily, and you will be able to recover. I'm going to use one last bit of magic. You'll probably fall into a light sleep, but when you awake, the paralysis will be gone and you'll be free and ready again. Is that okay?"

Dusty, for once feeling somewhat in control of himself during the whole situation, nodded.

"Remember: there are others in this forest who would do more damage to the villagers. I will do what I can without interfering with the woodsmen, but the more Riverwood is aware of the others, the better. Unlike myself, I don't think there's any way that they can release themselves from their corruptive influence."

Dusty nodded again. If nothing else, Bernard at least had genuinely good intentions.

"May we meet again... under better circumstances."

Bernard took up the pile of dust and gently blew it at Dusty. The pink spores gently covered him and he felt warm and comfortable, then sleepy. The coyote felt himself melting, his eyes rolling up almost in ecstasy at the sweet smell before he fell over and his eyes closed. He felt the skunk pick him up in a gentle hug, then gently rearrange him before drifting off into oblivion.

---

The air around Dusty was fragrant with larkspur, strawberry, and harebell, mixed with new grass. There was the clear tinkling of a stream nearby, the gentle rustling of leaves, and birdsong flitting through the trees. It felt fresh and clean, and Dusty's first thought was to take in a large breath and relish in the calm and quiet.

His thoughts were slow but calm and clear. Bit by bit, sensation returned to his body and he tested his movements. His toes were the first thing to come back and he flexed them. Then came his ears and nose, twitching at every new sound and scent that came by. A great heaviness lifted from him and slowly he began to fidget and try and remember where he was.

The ground beneath him was soft and covered in fine grass. So was the stuff beneath his head, mixed with flower petals of varying kinds. Around him the sides sloped up and he wondered if he was in some sort of hollow or if more had been piled up around him like that. Even as sensation slowly came back to him, he soon realized there was neither scent nor sound of anyone around him. Dusty was alone.

Finally, his eyes opened. For a moment he was dazzled but his vision settled and he could see light filtering through the forest canopy. He seemed to be slightly raised, leaning back in a hollow at the base of a large oak tree and well within its shade. Two roots spread off at either side, but the entire area was covered in grass and leaves and flower petals. The ground here was soft and loamy as though it had recently been upturned or stirred about. Not too far away there was a small stream quietly running by.

For a moment, Dusty closed his eyes again. He was calm but reinvigorated and seemed to be shaking off the last vestiges of a deep sleep. How long it had been he didn't have a clue, but from the warmth it seemed to be early or mid afternoon, and aside from a little hunger he was doing quite alright.

Then he bolted upright with a start. He first remembered losing his sword and shield and wondered where they'd gone off to. But as he jumped upright he noticed his sword was back in its sheath and his shield was on his arm as though he'd never taken it off. He stared at them curiously.

"Son of a bitch..."

He remembered now. He'd gone off into the woods to face a beast only to come face-to-face with a skunk not too different from the normal except for a strange bit of magic. The magic had made him hazy and disoriented and made it hard for him to summon up his own as though he was drawn in to some sort of allure. He checked and found his own circlet still atop his head, but wondered why it failed him when he was locked in combat, unable to summon up enough reserves.

Now his quarry was nowhere to be found. He'd clearly gotten the better of him, but the curious case of the skunk's strange magic was somewhat grating to him. It was like nothing he'd ever seen or felt and seemed to emphasize how dangerous these things could actually be. He sat down, rifled through his pack, and brought out some bread and meat and cheese he'd brought along for the midday meal and tried to assess what to do next.

It was no good if he had let the bastard run off without any sort of response. Not to mention that strange look that came over the skunk when he'd gone off on the attack: glassy eyes, a shadowy aura, the feeling of something almost "off" without a good way to define it. That wasn't good to have running around unchecked. He cursed the skunk again. Not to mention how part of the magic didn't just seem to prey on his physical self but his mental defenses, too; it made him feel drunk and filled with strange desires that were quite unbecoming of a member of the church.

One positive came from this: after eating a little and packing away the rest of his provisions just in case, Dusty felt better. He got up, examined the position of the sun through the leaves, and began walking south to try and reach the forest's edge, wondering what he would say to the Guild.

Only to stop in his tracks when he realized what he was doing.

No headache. No nausea. No drunken feeling like he was hungover. No stiffness or fever like he was about to become violently ill. A bit of hunger, awaking as though from a nap, and he was fine.

This now baffled him all the more. He'd seen what happened to the townspeople that had come back after an encounter with one of the "beasts". And there was certainly something strange and not quite normal about the magic the skunk knew. Put two and two together and that result should have happened to Dusty. And yet the coyote was standing, walking, eating, without the slightest trace of illness or lethargy. Like it had all been a mild inconvenience simply waiting for the last bits of the skunk's magic to wear off.

The obvious course was, while he was still strong, to head off after that skunk again and give him a piece of his mind for doing it. He pulled out the map again, having put the scroll in his pocket... and out dropped something else. Dusty had to stoop down to reach it.

It was a small braided section of charcoal black fur. Dusty brought it up to his nose and sniffed it. Yes... though tainted by other scents more akin to perfume, there was the scent of skunk in there. And so Dusty had the token he would need to take back to the Guild.

Then he remembered other things. Bernard being overtaken by the strange energy, only to come to his senses when Dusty had knocked the battleaxe out of the way. The promise that he would leave the woodsmen alone from now on and wouldn't go about as before. The gentle release of his magic as adrenaline wore off and Dusty collapsed into sleep.

To test something, Dusty concentrated and... almost immediately his sword filled with light. He let it dissipate after a minute or so and pushed forward with his shield, watching as a sudden gust erupted and made the grass in the hollow he'd been resting in jump up and scatter. His own magic had been summoned up without issue and without restraint. As responsive as it had been during the heat of battle when he thought the skunk was going to try and plow a battleaxe into his head.

"Son of a bitch..."

What in the world was the meaning of this? There were no records of someone walking away from a fight with a beast like this. Even skilled and experienced veteran Hunters often traveled in groups because if someone encountered one it was basically a knock-out. They were useless. A month of rest and recovery was needed even for the ones who were so gung-ho they were trying to get back into it early. Yet here was Dusty, quite new to the business, suffering from two spells he had never seen before, having gotten himself knocked flat in his first actual encounter, quite fine.

Dusty stopped to examine himself. His right shoulder felt tender and he assumed that was more from him flying and landing on his pauldron than anything; put some ointment on it from the apothecary and it'd be gone in a day or two, maybe bruised but nothing terrible. His shield arm was a little sore and he remembered getting jerked around by the shield in almost the same incident; a day or two to make sure it wasn't overextended but otherwise might heal up even quicker with the same ointment. Few cuts and scrapes from places but nothing like getting nicked with a bladed weapon; he could clean himself off at the town baths and be good by that evening.

He remembered there had been some fierce fighting. A misunderstanding between him and Bernard where the skunk thought he was being arrested. But Dusty had only carried out the order given to him and tried to make him leave with a simple bargain: the token for not disturbing the town again. The skunk had gone crazy with that strange aura, went on the attack, and Dusty was forced to fight. After being knocked around for a while or sensing the retaliation that was coming to him, Bernard had suddenly come to his senses and paused, using his magic to send Dusty to sleep and let himself get away.

The situation of events seemed reasonable. It would explain the injuries, however mild they were. A berserk fighting style that barely calmed down even when the skunk's motives were different, but to overwhelm and wear down rather than to actually hurt or maim.

Which left the issue of the magic Dusty hadn't seen before. Even in the midst of battle, there was something oddly enticing about the magic the skunk had used. Between his haze he had wanted to get and stay nearby. Then, staring his own fate in the face, he had allowed himself to fall, breathe in, and even agreed to the skunk performing his magic after a direct request. As though it would be pleasurable to be lost in that same haze, not thinking, the strange desire burning within his...

Dusty slapped himself. If he wasn't careful, it almost seemed like he wanted it to happen again. Not the whole berserker combat portion, he wasn't too keen to test what seemed like luck and good fortune in case he should find one who actually wanted to kill him. But the sweet scent surrounding him, the idea of just letting himself sit there and huff the enchanting aromas, Bernard's soft voice tickling his ears.

A shiver went up and down the coyote's back as he thought of it. He fought off the urge to take out the map and follow it just to see Bernard again. It was behavior unbecoming of someone who followed the rigid and steadfast ways of the Order. Not that they didn't allow some measure of personal happiness, but to seek it out with one who had been abducting the woodsmen... but how could it be torture when it felt so damned good.

Dusty slapped himself again. He was about to pummel the skunk if he saw him again. Not for being a criminal but for suddenly exposing him to this. Had he known it was going to be like this, he may have fought against the weird spell influences a little more.

Logic kicked in. Perhaps that was merely Bernard's personal way of being a "beast". There were likely still plenty of true beasts to find and drive off, and maybe one or two who would need some sort of divine retribution that a member of the Order could bring. His purpose was true: he had (maybe) successfully stopped Bernard while staying within the Order's tenants, and could return to town with token in hand, victorious. A few days' rest to get over the adrenaline and he would maybe be given another mission to try.

With that, Dusty was satisfied and made his way back to town.

---

The forest's edge was not too far away from where Dusty had awoken. He was out within a few minutes' walk and once again felt the full brunt of the warm sun on his face. It was late afternoon on a mostly-clear day. Thankfully his own pursuits had not taken him too far out of the way; just around a small corner of trees he could once again see the woodsmen's camp on the plain in the distance.

He approached the camp and asked if anyone had gone into the woods that day. The manager at hand said no, they had not; they were waiting for a signal from the Guild that the problem was over. Dusty decided against telling him directly what had transpired and returned back to Riverwood. He reached into his pocket and felt for the token of the skunk's tail, wondering what to do with it.

He returned back to the Riverwood Guild quarters and found Guildmaster Radan sitting at his desk once again. The bull scrambled to organize his papers and stand up to greet Dusty. But the closer he came he slowed down until he was standing in front of the coyote without actually greeting him. He looked Dusty up and down as though unsure what to make of him.

"Did you... did you see the skunk?" he asked.

"Sir," Dusty said, "before I answer you, may I ask how long I was gone?"

"You left this building just this morning," Guildmaster Radan said. "I had left to grab lunch a few hours ago and intended to send one of the other Guild members to see when the woodsmen had last heard from you."

So it was only the same day. The encounter with Bernard had perhaps only taken a matter of minutes until the haze had put him to sleep, not hours as Dusty had wanted to assume. It was quite disorienting and he hoped that would not be common... or that his occasional forays would be quicker than he thought they might be.

"Well, you came back sooner than I or anyone else expected, particularly from your first mission. What have you to say? What information do you have?"

"I have much to say," Dusty said. "And much that confuses me. The skunk in question rather looked like a woodsman. Under the assumption that I came to arrest him, he fought back with strange magic that I had never seen before and cannot quite describe. I was able to disarm him, and he left under penalty of retribution; I had defeated him and set him on the run, and per the tenants of my Order I let him know that neither my Order nor the Guild would give him such leniency should he continue."

"Well, that is strange," Radan said, stroking his chin. "Even I must admit when I heard the word 'beast', I did not think they would be reasoned with. And to agree to such as the result of a duel is rather honorable."

"The other part is that I come back with two things. The first is the token, and I have it here." He produced the braided skunk fur and gave it to Radan. "The second is a warning: the skunk saw himself as a protector of the woodsmen who found something else that he would describe as a beast. He said it was vaguely reptilian in shape and carries a strange aura even he did not like. And if a beast could look at a woodsman and say it needs protected from something it thinks is a beast, then perhaps there is far worse out there than we knew."

Guildmaster Radan took the skunk fur token and examined it. "Hmm... the information you bring back is disturbing. But how did you come by it?"

Dusty thought about how best to put it. "The skunk promised me he would leave the woodsmen alone. I told him 'give me this as a token of your defeat'. To which he said 'in exchange, let me give you this information and live, and may I be treated like a criminal if it is wrong'. Surely, something that was bargaining for its life would not say something entirely false. But only time can tell."

The big black bull sighed. "Dusty," Radan said, more disappointed than truly angry, "you need to understand the purpose of the Guild. We need to stop these before they become more of a problem. Every one of those you leave you there without capturing or killing is something that can remain a problem. It will weaken and injure more, and perhaps would spiral out of control if it can't get enough to satiate it."

"So I thought," Dusty interrupted before Radan could go much further. "But the Order has forbidden me to kill except in the worst of circumstances. And what am I to say to something that does not even think it's a predator? What am I to do to someone who nearly cried in thanks for even giving him that option? Certainly I may be forced to shed blood eventually. But when I spoke with him, I saw someone doing something terrible in trying to do good, not someone who does something terrible out of self-interest. I gave him the only way out I could think of that satisfied the request of both the Guild and the Order - and he took it. Even you said just this morning that he tried to help but it just wasn't sustainable."

Radan coughed. "Yes, you do have a point," he said sheepishly. "I'm sorry for speaking so harshly; you did exactly as I asked you and still found success. But I must reconcile this with the rules put forth by my higher-ups in Irilian. I will hold off giving you another mission for at least a month; if we do not hear from the skunk again, we shall then call it a success. And if we hear more of disappearing or more information about this reptilian, then truly you and the skunk shall be redeemed in full."

"I accept this ruling," Dusty said. "We both fall victim to the tenants of those higher than us - you the guild masters in Irilian and I the tenants of the Order of the Holy Sacrament. It is not always easy to balance them, though I will not contest this result. I shall await your answer or punishment in due time."

Radan nodded. "Normally, I would give you the token as proof of your victory on the field. But until such a time as we can confirm the skunk's information, I must hold on to it temporarily. But I shall not let you go without care; even on a dangerous mission I am responsible for whoever comes back. What are your wounds? Undo your armor and let me see."

As Dusty had surmised, his wounds were relatively minor. There were many places he was sore to the touch and a bruise was already forming on his shoulder. Some bits of black or brown or gray fur were wearing away on his arms and legs and sides from where they had been bashed around inside the armor. But that was as far as it went. As Radan examined him, Dusty detailed the nuances of the battle to the bull up until he'd knocked away the battleaxe.

"Your skills are admirable if you were able to get out of a combat like that with such few injuries," Radan said. "I now marvel not at your returning so early but at your doing so in one piece. I almost wonder if I should have sent two out there against him."

"I think it was better this way," Dusty remarked. "With me alone I masqueraded as a representative of the town guard, and his own sense of morality meant he observed me as an ally and not a threat until I finally revealed my position within the Order and the Guild. If there were two present, perhaps the purpose would be given away almost immediately."

There was a long pause. Dusty merely stood at attention much like he had during his days training with the Order and on his initial sorties against the beasts. Radan went back to pensively stroking his chin, looking back and forth between Dusty and the token of skunk fur in his hand. Dusty noted he seemed unsure of himself, but he saw the gears working and knew there must have been reasons other than the strength of a bull that Radan was placed as Guildmaster here.

Finally, Radan made up his mind and handed the token back to Dusty. "It truly does belong to you," he said. "I still have to send back to Irilian to see what they say, but I can only hope that we find more Hunters with as much judgment and insight as you have given me! Even if not, I may sometimes call upon you as a representative of the Order in order to pass judgment on further targets. But I shall now know better whether to send someone like you in pursuit of a target that may still have sense remaining versus one who may not."

"I am not opposed to shedding blood if necessary," Dusty elaborated. "Those who do not wish to see the Creator's light and actively oppose it may find themselves facing a different sort of judgment than Bernard the skunk. But for those to whom the light was not known and yet grasp onto it, then it is not my position to pass said judgment."

"A point well made!" Radan said, laughing with relief. "All the more reason to have fine members of your Order in here: other Hunters do it for glory while you actually have sense in your head. But come, let us get you some ointments and medicine and send you on your way to get some rest. The Guild may sometimes work you hard, but it is also our duty to take care of you and make sure you have time to recover between missions. I will be calling you again, though we shall see first what the masters in Irilian have to say."

---

And so Dusty was able to pin the token to his belt as a sign that he had defeated one of the "beasts" roaming the kingdom, signifying him as a true hunter of the Guild. He, however, did not display it or talk about it openly, simply attaching it on his belt as though it was yet another piece of his armor. The only one he actually talked about it with was his old friend Brother Thomas, on the day after his dealing with Bernard.

The mouse was excited to hear the whole story of Dusty's encounter in the woods, and he told it exactly as he had explained it to Guildmaster Radan as they sat in the nave of the Riverwood church. But Dusty included two details he had not with the bull, that of the dark aura he had seen and the stranger effects of the magic he had felt. The mouse listened with amusement to it all, but upon hearing Dusty describe the symptoms of the skunk's change, his face turned grave until the coyote had finished.

"I believe your judgment was correct," Brother Thomas said. "For all our doubts you have proven yourself a worthy candidate and a fine addition to the Guild. And your tenants and mission were finely balanced as though on the edge of a knife. Or an ax, as it were."

"I thank you for your opinion," Dusty said. "It is good to know a member truly devoted to the church as yourself thinks I made the right decision. But these spells he used, and that aura... I am afraid, Brother. I am afraid that there may be more who wield such powers. And what am I to do if I encounter this type of power again?"

"Well, I believe that is the best time for the use of that spell I gave you not two days ago now," the mouse said. "It is meant to clear not just the body but the mind as well. Perhaps there was some foresight in the church that led them to give you this spell if you are to encounter magic like that. But that may only solve one of your problems: the dark aura we know as corruption, those who have strayed far enough beyond the Creator's light that they fall into madness. Perhaps it is enough to bring them back to salvation."

"Yes, you're right," Dusty said brightly. "I had almost forgotten it! Already a practical use for it springs itself forward. Once more I find myself unable to thank you enough for your gift, for I have already been prepared to face this challenge without realizing it."

"That does not mean you are to take these encounters lightly from now on, Master Yote," Brother Thomas said. "All the better that you take each encounter as you see it and assess it with the same reason, judgment, and gravity you did with this Bernard. The Creator works in mysterious ways and may give you allies where you least expect it. So, too, will you find yourself needing the spell not right away, but in situations where you or even your enemies do not realize what you are holding in your repertoire."

"Must you speak so gravely about all things related to the church? Surely we are here to spread light and not to remind others of how oppressive the darkness is."

"Sometimes only by taking stock of how dark and muddled a situation can get can we truly see the light that has been bestowed by such a gift. But do not let it trouble you too much. You have gained a powerful gift, and that is something to be thankful for. And now, let us celebrate your victory; I believe the skunk chef Vivienne may let us pilfer a few small honey-cakes and tea for a simple toast and well-wishing for your next assignment."

"You spoil me, Brother. But I cannot deny a few honey-cakes and tea, nor the goodwill of a friend who actively declares it a celebration. Lead on!"