SML Ch 11

Chapter 11

 

Reynald immediately descended the hill with the patrol youths. Just hours earlier, the mandrakes had looked like droopy weeds, but now their leaves had perked up, almost as if watered—signs they were waking from their daytime slumber.

“Be careful. They won’t scream now that the sun’s set, but they’re still vicious.”

“I know. Let’s get to it.”

Mandrakes were nocturnal by nature. During the day, they buried themselves in the ground to sleep; at night, they spread their leaves wide, absorbing the malice in the air from nearby monsters. Just approaching them made it hard to breathe due to the poisonous miasma that gathered around them. Staying in a mandrake habitat for too long risked poisoning.

Worse, once they were well-rested after a full day’s sleep, the roots became dangerously feisty. Thankfully, their roots weren’t poisonous—on the contrary, they had healing properties—but the 50 cm-long tendrils that extended from them were notoriously difficult to deal with. One could easily come back with injuries instead of herbs if not careful.

Of course, if the mandrakes were refined properly, those injuries could be healed just as easily.

“We need at least three. One for immediate use and two to refine, like you said earlier.”

Reynald nodded at Lyndon’s words as he observed the area. He wasn’t sure how skilled these youths were at harvesting mandrakes, but on average it took five minutes to uproot a single one—just that long to subdue the flailing roots.

Even if they rushed, fifteen minutes was the bare minimum. By then, monsters would likely be right on top of them. Time was tight.

I need to hurry.

Volant began digging around a buried mandrake with a large shovel. The first few tries brought no reaction, but once he drove it in deep enough, sharp screams erupted from beneath the soil and several tendrils burst out. The tendrils weren’t especially large or thick, but they were covered in sharp thorns and writhed with unnerving vigor.

The other boys swung their shovels at the tendrils. A sword might’ve worked better for cutting, but they weren’t trying to sever the limbs—just to suppress them enough to get the root out. Trying to slice them all off would take too long.

“Lord! Now!”

The tendrils coiled around the shovels to stop the digging. Taking advantage of that opening, Reynald and Volant quickly worked to clear the soil around the root. The mandrake, sensing danger, released the other shovels and tried to seize theirs instead.

Strategically, it wasn’t a bad idea—but ultimately a mistake. With the other tendrils freed, the remaining shovels resumed digging furiously.

Panicked, the mandrake began thrashing wildly, swinging its tendrils in all directions. But Reynald and the boys pinned them down with the shovel heads, suppressing its movement.

After five minutes of struggle, the root finally came into view. It was shaped like a newborn baby and emitted a piercing, terrified scream. Had they heard it during the day, they would’ve collapsed with bleeding ears, maybe even died. Fortunately, nightfall spared their eardrums—though the screeching was still deafening.

“Damn, you’re noisy…!”

Reynald slammed his shovel down with all his might, striking the spot where the root met the leaves. The mandrake gave one final screech and died. Lyndon immediately unfastened a sack and shoved the root inside.

“You lot are surprisingly skilled!”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yes! Though it’s baffling that you’re good at harvesting mandrakes but still think the best use for them is grinding them up and slapping them on wounds…!”

Reynald shouted as he drove his shovel back into the ground. Again, tendrils burst forth, and the boys repeated the earlier procedure to harvest another.

Two more, and they’d have enough. If they got greedy, they could aim for five—but the situation didn’t allow for it.

Twenty ratmen, ten lycanthropes. It’s not a full moon, so the lycanthropes aren’t much of a threat, but the ratmen might call for reinforcements. I also see some other bipedal monsters, but it’s too dark and far to identify them…

Even while wrestling with tendrils, Reynald kept scanning the surroundings, estimating the monsters’ distance. They were creeping closer, drawn by the mandrakes’ screaming.

What kept them from charging immediately was the tension between the monster groups—ratmen were wary of being attacked by the lycanthropes, and vice versa. But that wouldn’t last long. As soon as a truce was reached, they’d all come charging in unison.

Just a little faster—come on!

Finally, the third mandrake was exposed. Volant quickly yanked the root out of the dirt. Another boy ended its shrieking with a well-aimed blow, and Reynald shoved the root into a sack. As the boys slung the tools and sacks onto their backs and prepared to leave—

“Shit—they’re coming!”

Of course, now they cooperate. Ratmen and lycanthropes abandoned their standoff and charged straight toward Reynald’s group. The rest of the monsters followed suit, as if some invisible starting gun had gone off.

“Run!”

At Reynald’s shout, the boys took off up the hill. All that was left now was to get back in one piece. Easier said than done.

 

 

As the humans ran, the monsters gave shrill cries and gave chase. Beneath the rising moon and twinkling stars, a desperate chase scene began to unfold.

“Damn, they’re persistent! Did you kids do something to piss them off?”

“No! Half of them are just bored and chasing us for fun! They’ve got nothing better to do at night!”

“What kind of monster has a free evening schedule?! …Well, I suppose winter’s quiet for everyone, monster or man!”

It looked intense—at least on the surface. The loot they were running with was just three herbs, and most of the monsters chasing them weren’t even doing it out of any particular grudge. They were just swept up in the chaos.

Still, as the saying goes, “It’s always the frog that gets hit by the thoughtless stone.” Even monsters running without purpose were still dangerous if they caught you. None of them were eager to become midnight snacks for wandering monsters.

Luckily, there was still a fair distance between them and the horde. Most of the monsters were bipedal—not as fast as quadrupeds. Their speed slightly outmatched Reynald and the boys, but not by much. As long as they kept sprinting, they wouldn’t be caught—yet.

Reynald quickly estimated the remaining distance.

To reach the castle, they’d need to run for at least another hour at full speed. They might grow tired, but so would the monsters. That wasn’t the real problem.

“…Why the hell are there so many free-roaming monsters in this region?!”

The further they ran, the more monsters seemed to be joining the chase.

 

TL-

Monsters chasing them for fun?? Who gave these beasts paid time off?!

Reynald really said, “We’re NOT dying for three herbs, no sir,” and ran like the rent was due.

Lyndon: “We should get at least three mandrakes.”

Reynald: “Three mandrakes and three heart attacks later, sounds fair.”

Volant’s daily cardio challenge: get chased by furry werewolves and shrieking salad babies.

Reynald might’ve just invented the first extreme sport in the kingdom: “Mandrake Harvest & Run.”

Next up: Does the crew make it home in one piece, or do they discover monster cooking classes on the side? Stay tuned 😎