'Piper,' as the Menu so laconically labeled the fiend, provided only a few paltry slivers of demon bone upon post-battle looting. The Branded demon provided a hefty reward of gold to go with its prodigious bounty of experience points. But its metamorphosis into something vaguely passing as human must have wiped its item table clean. If demons even had a traditional item table under the Menu - demonbone armor materials came from mining, not looting. The slivers of marrow would sell well but were otherwise useless to the party. Demon blood was nowhere to be found, indeed the entire night's battle was entirely bloodless. That item being sold back at the auction must've been another scam.

  The enthralled members of the caravan, as well as the numerous other victims summoned in from encampments across the sands, continued to stand in organized rows, muscles loose and minds asleep, but standing straight.

  “With the master demon dead they’ll awaken with the dawn,” Enkidu explained.

  Calaf frowned. “That won’t do.”

  Jelena remained under the effects of charm, nominally asleep but standing at a loose attention for orders from a demon that was now slain. Pupeteered by a song that was no longer playing.

  “They should be suggestible,” Enkidu added. “If you want to turn them in the direction of camp and give them a push, they’ll be good at following orders to retrace their steps. Otherwise, they’ll wake up where they are, confused but unhurt. Aside from the ones that were eaten.”

  “Maybe in a moment.” Calaf frowned harder. “What about that pitcher plant?”

  The bucket plant the demon had appropriated and/or imitated remained, half-buried in the sand and on its side. Fire had burnt the new ‘floor’ of the plant away, which now sat smoldering on the desert sands. The fiend had lured some of its charmed victims in there as they arrived. Calaf knew that much. But nothing had stirred since the fight started. Digestion surely took a while.

  “People in there could need rescuing.” Calaf motioned with his spear.

  “You probably don’t want to go in there,” Enkidu warned.

  Even so, Calaf advanced. Flaming Sword of Faith on his spear provided some illumination.

  The acid of the antlion plant had surely spilled out by now. Even so, Calaf watched his step as he approached the gaping, leafy, and leathery maw.

  Looks proved deceiving. Though the bucket of the carnivorous plant was the size of a large caravan wagon, Calaf found himself walking back forty to fifty paces without discovering the bottom.

  Acid flowed in a miniature stream near Calaf’s feet. The fluid seeped from the pitcher, soaking into the outside sands.

  “You will not find anything.” Enkidu’s voice was monotone, from the entrance.

  “You fell in here,” Calaf countered, his voice reverberating. “You got out.”

  The only light came from the flaming spear tip itself. Still, Calaf stepped, his hefty boots stained by the acid.

  It was well into the cavernous pitcher, double the length of what the depth ought to have been from the outside, when Calaf encountered the first body.

  A figure – one of the merchants – was glued to the wall. Rather, it would have been the wall were the pitcher upright, but now it was the ceiling.

  Sticky film had glued the poor fellow into the bucket. It was a far different purpose than usual for antlion plant victims. Typically they were dissolved for their nutrients in this arid desert inhospitable for standard plant life.

  This victim was ushered into the bucket plant by his demonic master not but two hours ago, just before Enkidu’s brawl. Still, he was too far up for Calaf to dare reach without risking a spill into the acid.

  “It’s like they’ve been integrated into the walls…”

  Calaf’s voice echoed in the cavernous depths.

  “Again, the demon was not, strictly speaking, capable of thought when it appropriated this carnivorous tree. It merely adapted the plant to its purpose – as a jailer and slaver demon. And with no further instructions regarding what to do with its prisoners, it would have let them… go fallow.”

  Despite the natural acoustics of this bucket plant, Enkidu’s voice remained flat and emotionless as he stood at the edge.

  Further down, the bodies grew older. There were many traders, mostly unbranded, wearing styles from decades past. They covered the ceiling, ‘walls’, and even the floor near Calaf’s feet. The demon had garnered quite the collection.

  Even further back, the bodies were from various Branded pilgrims and church guards wearing modestly high-level armor for the region. Styles and equipment soon grew so antiquated. Calaf did not recognize the gear on the victims he found deeper into the pitcher.

  What’s more, these dozens—no, hundreds —of victims were not dead. Through untold centuries, they remained frozen in an arrested, permanent slumber. As if in stasis, preserved in amber the exact moment they were collected. Just how long had this fell Piper Demon been operating? Victims grew more numerous as the prison continued with no end in sight.

  Tentatively, Calaf approached a pair of pilgrims cocooned together near a low bit of ceiling. It was a man and a woman, clearly a couple on pilgrimage wearing garb from the earliest church age. The woman’s midsection was swollen in a faint early indication of pregnancy. They’d been returning down the pilgrimage route, having gotten married in a rush before setting off and returning home from their quest with a new life to raise. Both slumbered in stasis, having been taken by this Piper Demon well outside of living memory. Calaf grazed the hand of the nearest pilgrim, the male.

  Layers of grime and film stirred as the pilgrim awoke. No sooner had this ancient demon’s thrall opened his eyes than he began to disintegrate. There was no sign of pain or even an indication that the pilgrim was aware of where he’d been all this time. No HP loss recorded, as his Brand disintegrated alongside the rest of the body. He merely transformed from a recently awoken demon victim to aged ash that fell upon Calaf like snow.

  Calaf coughed. The better to keep the ash of his fellow pilgrim out of his lungs. He looked to the now-disintegrated pilgrim’s counterpart, the sleeping woman. She remained oblivious, breathing soundly. There would be no saving anyone who’d been captured for so long. But did he dare leave her here, when her partner was at least released from this loathsome fate? The Squire wiped ash from his hair, then shuddered. Suddenly the confines of this biological cavern felt restricting, claustrophobic, and Calaf’s breathing quickened.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Calaf emerged from the pitcher plant, his face and shoulders still caked in dust. Enkidu had one foot on the fat-lipped edge of the plant. A body was draped over his shoulder – it was that merchant, the demon’s most recent victim.

  “This one should still be salvageable,” Enkidu said.

  The pair exited the demon’s second maw.

  “With sunrise,” Enkidu continued.

  “Hmm?”

  “As dawn creeps into the pitcher plant, the numerous other victims will awaken – then instantly crumble to dust. Demon would have had a way to cover it with a flap or curtain of sand during daylight hours, to keep its collection from spoiling.”

  Calaf reached up with two fingers to wipe ash off his cheek.

  “Right. R-Right.” Then, after silence grew too uncomfortable. “So it’s truly too late for the rest of them.”

  Enkidu nodded.

  “Those taken tonight will wake up like they merely had an inexplicably pleasant but exhausting dream. Anyone in thrall to a Piper Demon for longer than a human would otherwise sleep, though…”

  The fate went unsaid. Calaf brushed another clump of ash off his shoulder pauldron. There was truly no saving those he’d found in that cavernous place. The woman - the unborn child - Calaf tried not to visualize the centuries' worth of collected victims, eyes opening on their first dawn in decades or centuries, only for it to be their last.

  “I don’t think I even found the bottom of that thing,” Calaf said to himself. He received no response.

  They’d come uncomfortably close to an early end to their relic-thieving operation that night. Jelena remained, swaying slightly on the long-dead tune. Per Enkidu she’d wake up with the dawn – curious as to her whereabouts but none the wiser like the rest of the crowd. Enkidu dropped the man they’d fished out of the bucket plant. To wake with the sunrise, utterly confused and covered in digestive slime, was his fate. But for the others…

  Those under the siren’s charm proved suggestible. Calaf and Enkidu turned a few around and gave them a quick push. These sleepwalkers took off at a slow pace back from whence they came. They did this for the strangers lured in from other caravans as well; just turned them around and gave them a quick push to get them moving. All remained in their slumber, retracing their steps in the sand.

  Some particularly stubborn specimens wouldn’t turn or budge. These they had to leave for the dawn. Most should filter back to camp before it came time to leave the next midmorning.

  As for Jelena, Calaf took her by the hand and gently escorted her back over the dune and towards their secluded camp at the desert’s edge. He took one last look over the scene – watching the ruined bucket plant, the handful of sleepwalkers still standing dutifully in organized rows, and the shattered dune Enkidu had punched the Piper Demon into.

  Calaf gave Enkidu an appreciative but wary glance. The mountain of a wild man stood on the other side of Jelena, arms crossed.

  “You’re feeling inadequate,” Enkidu said. “Measuring yourself up to one of Jelena’s previous partners.”

  ”Well, yes, I am aware that you and her…” Calaf’s voice trailed off and he scowled. Zilara had spilled the beans about the unique circumstances regarding how Enkidu and Jelena first met.

  “Worried my raw strength left her more satisfied than you’re barely-more-than-virginal pumping?”

  Calaf bit his lip. His cheeks burned.

  “Relax,” Enkidu said. “You more than satisfy her. Otherwise she wouldn’t have invited you to the group. She worked a brothel, she’s more than capable of wringing pleasure out of any scenario. Your lack of experience likely just lets her mold you into being whatever she needs to… be satiated.”

  ”Yeah…” Calaf looked wistfully at the bare skin between Jelena’s neck and the skimpy nightshirt. She breathed softly, chest rising, supple skin a perfect contrast with her silky white undershirt. He stared for a bit before the chivalry kicked in. “I… would not wish to dwell upon the love life of a fair damsel while she is… indisposed. She’s not herself and incapable of comment. It’s uncouth.”

  ”Don’t let her catch you calling her a damsel while she’s lucid,” Enkidu warned.

  Calaf marched in silence for a time. Then, “How long did you two…?”

  “I simply partook of her services and those of her coworkers. With that experience obtained and committed to memory, I have no need of carnal relations.”

  ”I… let’s just get this fair maiden back to safety," Calaf said.

  “Let’s.”

  Even having been seduced into a life of crime, years of drilled-in gallant chivalry remained, a vestigial force in Calaf’s psyche. A maiden in distress activated his somewhat lapsed Paladin-aspirant moral code. For sufficient definition of maiden, admittedly. Still, saving a lover from the clutches of a demon did rise to the definition of chivalric deed, to say nothing of the throngs of enthralled merchants they’d saved this night.

  Avoiding any further awkward conversation, Calaf’s thoughts returned to the demon.

  If this creature had rooted itself any closer to Japella… Calaf shuddered at the thought. He wondered how many other townships out in the desert hinterlands had been spirited away down the collector demon’s gullet. It had been out here, undisturbed, for untold centuries.

  The reason behind all those abandoned ruins in the desert revealed itself. Calaf shuddered against the cool, dry air.

  Calaf, sleepwalking Jelena, and Enkidu encountered two more figures on their way back to camp. They were the guards Enkidu and Calaf had attempted to enlist to watch over the encampment.

  The pair of would-be guards stood beside each other. They must have succumbed to the demon’s song and been beckoned by the call, only to stop when the demon’s cry went silent. There they stood, waiting for the sun to pop over a dune and lift them from this spell.

  “Hey, you two,” Calaf said, suddenly tired from the night’s activity. “You can turn around and go back.”

  There was no response, and the pair proved resistant to being turned manually. So Calaf and Enkidu just left them there. They’d awaken and figure things out eventually. Maybe they could even usher in some of the stragglers from the demon’s valley back in the direction of camp.

  Camp itself was empty but undisturbed. They popped into Zilara’s tent to ensure she was still there. Indeed, the charmed status effect had dissipated. Always a good sign. The holy child slept, still secure in her bunk.

  Jelena was walking as if she were on a rail back into her and Calaf’s tent. She required minimal coaxing to lay back down in the pair's shared bunk. She lay staring straight up – again, rather odd for her sleeping patterns – and closed her eyes.

  Crisis averted.

  Outside, the first rays of light peeked out over the cliffs on the far eastern borderline. Calaf suddenly felt exhausted. Every muscle ached from fatigue. But he did not crawl into the cot. Instead, he first washed the dust off his hair and face at the waterfall. Fatigue leaving him more sluggish still, Calaf crawled into their tent and sat on his knees at the tent’s flap, as if worried Jelena was going to rise and walk off again.

  His desert-inflected armor was blemished and acid-scarred. The metal was rent near the ribcage and barely functional. Status debuffs he didn’t even recognize reduced the desert mail’s defensive properties to that of basic pilgrim’s robes. He’d need an upgrade before their next major heist.

  “Ah.” Calaf heaved, barely able to unequip his armor from exhaustion. “I almost lost you.”

  Calaf fell asleep, on his knees, hunched over, his back to the tent flap.

  Calaf next awoke in this same position, knees aching and still exhausted. The tent would wrap itself up around noon, so it wasn’t that late. Still, he emerged into the camp and blocked his eyes against the harsh glare of the sun.

  Liveliness had returned to the camp as many a highly confused merchant wandered in from the wastes. Those who had reached camp before dawn managed to attempt to cook breakfast in a fatigued and confused state.

  Meanwhile, Calaf’s every muscle burned. He looked to Enkidu, leaning against his seldom-used tent and continuing to examine the chips and dents in his sword. Enkidu grumbled and let out a nod – a surprisingly respectful gesture for the wild man.

  “Hey there,” Jelena said, chipper. “Going to break off from these merchants when we head out. Seems like your Honest Joe fellow’s trail has gone cold.”

  Calaf breathed a sigh of relief. He chuckled despite himself. Honest Joe. Pffft. There was no evidence that Jelena registered anything from the night before, even as a bad dream.

  “Guess we should say goodbye to the caravan leader,” Jelena said. “Y’know, I don’t remember his name. Or what he looked like. Odd.”

  Try though he might, Calaf was having trouble recalling the man’s features.

  ”Huh. Do they even have a leader?”

  “Bartholomew, I want to say?” Calaf tilted his head.

  The bearded merchant had been… consumed… as part of that cocoon during the Piper Demon’s metamorphosis. Huh, come to think of it Calaf struggled to recall the name or Interface designation of any of those who had been eaten.

  The group’s third tent flap opened.

  “Morning,” Zilara said with a yawn.

  The holy child took one look at Calaf, noting the three extra levels.

  “What’d I miss?”

  Enkidu and Calaf shook their heads.

  “Tell you later,” the former grumbled.

  Details of the tale could last them the full journey to Port Town. For now, Calaf required some food and rest if he hoped to make the journey.

  “Man, I’m never catching up,” Zilara said with a pout.

  Achievement unlocked: Obligatory Nightwish Chapter Title Reference