Author: Tower Curator

 

Gert Freede, Baron of Langleey, made his home in the center of the village square, just across from the church. It wasn’t a particularly large manor. Arkk had been to other villages and burgs where their local lords of the land had miniature castles. Gert lived a simple life, not far elevated from the serfs employed to work the farms. The grounds were far more elaborate than the house, being one large garden tended to by Gert’s wife and a few others. The wide lanes of strawberries were a much-beloved treat during the times of the year when they grew in.

Rushing through that garden, Arkk reached the large wooden doors of the Baron’s home and started hammering the knocker.

It was the dead of night. Well before anyone would be awake. Arkk didn’t expect anyone to answer right away. It took a few minutes of hammering before the door creaked open.

A short, round man with rosy round cheeks and a round nose pulled open the door, standing with a small rushlight burning in his hands. The light from the miniature candle paled in comparison to the larger torch that Arkk still held. Gert raised a hand, blocking the light from the torch as he squinted into the darkness.

“What is the meaning of this? Have you any idea—”

“Sorry to wake you, sir. I thought you would want to know that orcs and goblins were spotted near the village.”

Gert sucked in a breath, free hand clutching at his pale yellow nightgown as the rushlight drifted to the ground. “Goblins? Here?”

“In the company of orcs,” Arkk said.

Goblins were by far the more alarming threat. Vicious little creatures, more akin to wild animals than proper beings. Orcs, on their own, were generally treated with suspicion but could be open for trade while passing through on whatever business orcs got up to. Orcs in the company of goblins, however, was bad news. Raiders and scavengers, the lot of them.

“How many? How far off?”

Arkk shook his head. “Not sure, exactly. Ilya and I spotted tracks. She counted at least four orcs. I’d guess maybe twice as many goblins. They always outnumber the orcs in these kinds of groups. As for how far off?” He didn’t have a proper answer for that. “I’d guess they could be here as early as dawn if they’re heading straight here.”

“You and Ilya?” Gert said, squinting his beady eyes. “Arkk?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You were hunting out west, beyond the Cursed Forest?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where is Ilya?” Arkk hesitated. The brief pause made Gert grimace. “Oh, no… is she—”

“No, no. She should be safe. We took different routes back. Wanted to make sure that one of us made it just in case the horde got the other. She took a route that kept her closer to the orcs and goblins. I imagine her arrival will mean we’ve run out of time.”

Relief crossed Gert’s face. The fingers clenching his nightgown relaxed some. “Good. Very good. I understand. Rush to the church and sound the bells. Wake the village. We’ll gather everyone who can fight and hide the rest in my manor.”

Time being of the essence, Arkk didn’t bother saying anything else. He turned and rushed across the small plaza to the church.

In contrast to the Baron’s rather simple home, barely more affluent than any villager’s home, the church had opulence to it. It and the smithy were the only fully stone structures in the village. Where the smithy had a rugged design, the church was smooth and tall. High windows brought in natural light to the main chapel area. Whitewashed walls gleamed in the moonlight while the golden symbols inscribed on its bell tower sparkled with whatever light they could catch.

The door wasn’t locked. Although it had heavy bolts, it was never locked. The bell tower hung over the entrance, just before the main chapel. A door to the side let him into the bell room where, after dropping his torch on the stone floor, he set to pulling on the thick ropes.

Despite the gravity of the situation, pulling down on the ropes reminded him of when he was a boy, fighting with Ilya over who got to ring the bells before the Suun sermon. He had heard the bells ring in emergencies like this before, but had never done it himself. Still, he couldn’t help but smile when he heard that heavy bong.

Arkk didn’t know for how long he should ring the bell, so he kept going. The entire village didn’t need to wake up from the bell ringing, just enough people. Those who were awake could then wake their neighbors.

A few bongs turned into a few dozen before Arkk felt a hand resting on his shoulder. The Abbess stood behind him, wearing a grim smile that wrinkled her face more than usual.

“Thank you, Arkk. You can stop now.”

Arkk immediately let go of the rope. “Right. Enough people up?”

“The Baron is organizing everyone in the plaza now, repeating what you said.” Abbess Keena fiddled with her habit, smoothing out the wrinkles. Arkk was honestly surprised she was wearing it at a time like this. Pure white with elegant golden thread marking symbols into it, it was probably the single most opulent article of clothing in the entire village. Not even the Baron wore such expensive threads when viscounts or earls were visiting. “Are there really goblins approaching?” she asked.

“There… is a chance they weren’t headed toward the village,” Arkk said slowly. “Ilya and I were on the other side of the Cursed Forest when we noticed them. They seemed to be following the forest’s edge. We couldn’t take the chance that they weren’t coming here.”

“Of course not,” the Abbess said, face turning grim. “I shall pray they pass us by, but will prepare my salves and prayers for healing.”

Before Keena could turn and leave, Arkk tugged up his tunic. “Could you take a look at this first?” he asked, wincing as he looked down at his wound for the first time. Long jagged lines of torn flesh ran from his hip to his ribs amid raw, red skin. It wasn’t bleeding, but thin streaks of blood showed that it had been when he received it. Seeing it made it start stinging all over again. “It looks worse than it is,” he said quickly, not sure if he was trying to reassure the frowning abbess or himself. “Took a bit of a tumble in my hurry to get back.”

“I can apply an ointment, but I need to keep my healing prayers ready for more grievous injuries.”

“Prayer would be more than I need,” he said, flashing a smile. “Just want to fight without distraction.”

The Abbess brought him through the chapel, sitting him down on one of the pews before disappearing through a door behind the altar. She returned in short order, carrying a small clay jar. Arkk wrinkled his nose at the fish-like smell when she pulled out the wax stopper but didn’t complain as she rolled up her sleeves and gently applied a thin layer of the freezing gel to his side.

“Abbess Keena?” Arkk said as she worked. “Might I ask a question of… religious nature?”

The older woman let out a soft laugh. “That is what I am here for.”

“I… What do demons look like?”

The Abbess jerked her hand, smacking into the clay pot. Arkk snapped his hand forward, catching it just before it rolled off the pew.

“Sorry… I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, that is what I’m here for,” she said again, far less humor in her voice this time. “Why do you ask?”

Arkk bit his lip. “I might have taken a shortcut through the Cursed Forest to warn the village faster,” he said, wincing at the way her eyebrows popped up and wrinkled her forehead. He continued, speaking faster and faster with every word to get his confession out of the way as quickly as possible. “There was something out there. A monster, I think. I’ve never seen anything like it before. I think it wanted me to agree to something—it didn’t exactly speak any proper language so it was a bit hard to tell. I said no,” he added, words spilling out of his mouth as fast as he could to deny agreeing to anything. “Then it just let me go. I wasn’t sure what to think of the encounter.”

To his surprise, Abbess Keena seemed to relax the more he talked. She even started moving again, hands rubbing the ointment into his side. “Doesn’t sound like a demon then,” she said slowly, thinking. “Demons typically look like people, at least when attempting to engage in such a conversation, to better deceive those with whom they would make deals. Something unlike anything you had ever seen would not be a demon.”

“Typically? But not always?”

Keena glanced up, brows scrunched together. “I don’t exactly have personal experience, Arkk.”

“No. No, of course not.”

“Apart from that,” she continued, “it is well-known that demons can speak any language with perfect fluency. Demons cannot lie while making deals. Garbling their deal with another language would violate that, I imagine. Therefore, it couldn’t have been a demon.” Pulling away from Arkk, Keena dried her fingers with a small cloth before recapping the jar of ointment. She stood, and paused. “What did it ask of you?”

“It wasn’t perfectly clear. I think it wanted three things,” Arkk said, straightening out his tunic. “First, it wanted help cleaning up some ruins I fell into.”

“Ruins? In the Cursed Forest?”

“Some old fortress. Looked really old. Maybe pre-Calamity. Frankly, I think the monster might have been pre-Calamity too. It looked like some kind of slimy, tentacle monstrosity with a few too many eyes.”

“A creature from before the Calamity?” the Abbess asked, actually sounding amused. “It has been over a millennium. Only dragons and elves live that long and this doesn’t sound like either.”

“I’m just saying,” Arkk mumbled, “it would fit the stories.”

“The other things it asked of you?”

“Well, there was some kind of large magical object in those ruins. A giant ball. I think it wanted me to take it.”

“Just give it to you?”

Arkk shrugged. “Finally, it kept calling itself a servant. And I think it wanted someone to serve.”

Keena pressed her lips together. “Peculiar.”

“Doesn’t sound familiar?”

“I am hardly a walking index of monsters, Arkk. I’m just a remote village’s religious guide. I dare say that the mercenaries who pass through on occasion would be of better assistance in identifying your mysterious creature. A magical artifact is more concerning. It could be what is causing the corruption in the Cursed Forest.” She hummed. “I should prepare a cleansing ritual for you later. Getting so close to this artifact… If it is what is causing the corruption, removing or destroying it might be a worthy endeavor. If we could reclaim the Cursed Forest, Langleey might enter into a new age of prosperity.”

“The creature called the artifact a defensive and offensive tool, though it wasn’t more clear than that.”

Keena furrowed her brow, squinting as she stared off into one of the large glass windows of the chapel. “That… sounds familiar.” She tapped the jar of ointment against her chin a few times before shaking her head. “I can’t recall. After our current crisis is over, I shall delve through the Holy Tome and see if I’m imagining familiarity or if I’ve heard of that before.”

“Current crisis,” Arkk mumbled, closing his eyes and wishing he could forget about that. His eyelids were heavy enough that he couldn’t quite open them right away. The Baron would take care of things right now. He didn’t have anything else to say about the goblins and orcs. There was still much he could do, but trying to put effort into his legs just didn’t quite work. Exhaustion kept him still.

A short rest would help him fight all the more.

He hoped Ilya was alright.

The warm light from the morning sun streamed through the tall windows of the church, stirring Arkk from his rest. The warmth felt nice, peaceful, and serene. Too peaceful, even. Like he was missing something.

Snapping his eyes open, Arkk jolted to his feet, remembering what daylight meant. He was still in the chapel. Abbess Keena must have left him to rest. While thankful for the brief respite, Arkk wished she wouldn’t have let him sleep quite this long. Rushing out to the square, Arkk set about learning what was going on.

The village had assembled. Of the seventy people in their village, twelve men and eight women had taken up arms. Six teens strong enough to carry bows had been recruited as well, positioned atop roofs to act as lookouts. Their eyes were on the west, toward the Cursed Forest. The large fields of corn would obstruct the sightlines, unfortunately, with it being so close to harvest. The church and manor up on the hill would hopefully provide enough elevation to spot unnatural rustling to give an early warning.

“Where is Ilya?” Arkk called out, running through the assembled defenders. She was supposed to arrive by dawn… unless she had taken to her fallback plan of distracting the orcs and goblins so that Arkk would have a chance to arrive first. Unnecessary now, but she didn’t know that. “Has anyone seen Ilya?”

A hand grasped hold of the back of his tunic as he slowed, jerking him to a stop.

“Quiet down, boy. You’ll cause a panic.”

The man holding onto Arkk gave him a dark look as he spun him around. An older man with thin clouds of white hair might not have intimidated a young man like Arkk, but this was John, the village carpenter. Wearing a worn gambeson with a heavy lumber axe strapped to his side and a powerful longbow slung over his shoulder, he was probably the most intimidating man in the village.

“Have you seen Ilya? Did she make it back?”

“No one has seen the lass. I’m sure you’d be the first to know.” John took a deep breath, softening his expression. “Now what’s all this about goblins?”

“Didn’t the Baron—”

“I want to hear it from you, boy.”

“Ilya and I found a handful of orcs and goblins, we were—”

“Hey! Arkk!”

Fighting the grimace off his face, Arkk turned toward the new voice. “Jorgen. Hurtt,” he said to the two approaching him. Both were burly men with arms thicker than tree trunks. Neither had a pleasant look on their face.

“Got any magic for us today?” Jorgen said.

“No, I—”

“Course he doesn’t,” Hurtt said with an ugly scoff. “The one time explosions might be useful and he doesn’t have anything.”

“Oi, shove off,” John said. “You got time to flap your lips, you got time to keep a lookout.”

The two laughed as they turned away. Arkk followed them with his eyes, watching the way they kept their smiles and seeming amusement only until they were a short distance away, at which point they dropped the act entirely, shooting each other glances.

“They’re just nervous,” Arkk said.

“We all are. Waking us up so early in the night?” John gave a tired shake of his head then let out a mighty yawn. “Could have slept in for another few hours.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Besides, you’ll show them up. Hit a few goblins between the eyes. Who needs unreliable magic and chanting when you’ve got…” John blinked, frowning as he looked over Arkk. “Where’s your gear, boy? You can’t fight like that.”

“It’s out in the Cursed Forest,” Arkk said with a groan, running a hand down his face. “They were too heavy and I needed to run.”

“You left your lady-friend’s bow in the Cursed Forest? I take it back. You’re going to be dead the moment she walks up.”

“I remember where it is!” I hope. “I can get it back after we fight off the attack.”

John looked off into the distance, then snapped his eyes back to Arkk. “Not going to be fighting off anything like that. Run down to my shop. There should be two bows hanging on the rack near the wheel. Neither will be as good as an elf’s bow, but at least you won’t be useless.”

“Sorry,” Arkk said, starting away. He paused and glanced back. “Thanks!”

John just threw his hand in a dismissive motion.

Hurrying down the hill, back to the side of the river, Arkk threw open the door to John’s workshop. A pair of wagon wheels leaned against one wall. The start of a bedframe sat atop the main workbench, surrounded by all manner of metal tools. The opposite wall from the door had what Arkk was looking for. Two bows hung next to the door out to the lumber saw and the waterwheel. One was missing its string. Not knowing where John kept bowstrings, Arkk picked up the other and tested its weight.

It was quite a bit heavier than Ilya’s bow, but it would work. Of course, a bow wouldn’t do much on its own. John had to have some arrows around somewhere. Arkk started pulling open workbench drawers and searching shelves.

Arkk felt a rush of wind and a thunk at his back. Whirling, he found an arrow, end vibrating, sticking out from a cabinet along the wall.

“That one,” a voice whispered.

“Hale?” Arkk said, looking to the door to find a young lady hanging upside-down from the roof. Her twin-tailed hair hung down, giving her the comical appearance of a giant beetle, but her piercing green eyes betrayed her seriousness. A much smaller bow hung from her arms. “What are you doing?”

“You were looking for arrows,” she said, unblinking. “Headed and fletched arrows are in that cupboard.”

The arrow sticking out of the cupboard bit into it right along the grain. Grabbing hold of it, he wrenched it from the door. In doing so, half the door fell to the floor with a clatter. She was right, there were completed arrows inside, but… “How are you going to explain this to John?”

Her eyes went wide. They darted left, then right, then back to Arkk. “Goblins did it.”

“They aren’t even here yet.”

“Goblins did it,” she said again, voice firm. Reaching up to whatever she was hanging from, she started to pull herself up, only to let out a small, “Ah!” before falling straight down onto her back.

She was on her feet before Arkk could get over to her, but he still grabbed her arms to help steady her. In contrast to her steady voice, her arms were trembling. “Why are you out here? Everyone else is up near the plaza.”

“Guarding the shop,” she answered, yanking her arms from Arkk’s hands.

“It’s dangerous on your own. Did John tell you to do this? I’ll—”

“No! I have to stay here. Master is too old. If the goblins burn this place down—”

“Then the whole village will help rebuild it. You think John cares more about a few planks of wood than his apprentice?” Arkk flicked her forehead between her brows. “Can you even draw that bow back?”

Rubbing between her eyes, Hale scowled. “I hit the cupboard door right where I was aiming, while upside down.”

Arkk glanced back, then to the arrow still in his hand. “So you did. Maybe you can help then, but with everyone else. Not out here on your own.”

After gathering up a number of the arrows into a sack that Hale found for him—they didn’t have a proper quiver handy and he had left everything with his other equipment—Arkk started dragging Hale out of the workshop.

“Wait!” Hale said, stopping abruptly. The little girl grabbed his hand and pulled. “I remembered. I wanted you to see something.”

“You wanted me to see something?”

“You know magic, right?” she asked, dragging him around the shop. Arkk didn’t have a good answer for her, affirmative or negative, so he kept his mouth shut. “What’s this?”

Arkk blinked, looking where she was pointing. There was a magic circle burned into the ground, the same one Vezta had drawn out in the library. The one that had brought him here. Intricate and complex, and yet, it was perfectly clear right there in the dirt. “Do… do you have a sheet of paper handy?” he asked. “And something to scrawl with?”

He didn’t know if it would survive the coming battle and he so desperately wanted to figure out how that worked. Magic that moved people great distances? It was too good to be true. If they could move from the village past the Cursed Forest without having to walk or ride the distance, they would be able to hunt and forage and chop lumber so much easier than they could now.

Hale returned, bringing with her a rough piece of pulpy paper and a thin stick of charcoal. Not ideal, but it would work. “Keep an eye out for goblins or orcs. And Ilya too.”

“Why Ilya? She’s right there?”

“Yes, keep an eye—” Registering what Hale said, Arkk snapped his head up.

A lithe elf ran along the bank of the river, eyes up on the church. She looked worn, covered in far more grime than when Arkk had last seen her. It was as if she had crawled through a pit of mud on her stomach.

“Ilya!” Arkk called, waving the paper.

He could see her eyes widening even from the distance. The silver in them gleamed in the morning light. Seeing him must have given her a new wind. Her pace picked up as she headed straight toward him.

“What are you doing here?” she shouted, voice rough and scratchy. Sweat dripped from her face and stained her clothes in all the places where the mud wasn’t caked on. “Did you… Did you go through the Cursed Forest? After I said…” She trailed off as she got closer, shooting a wary glare at the magic circle on the ground. “What is that?”

“It’s, uh…”

“Never mind,” she snapped, shaking her head and sending her knife-like ears bouncing. “We need to go.”

“Go where? I already warned the village. Including the youth, we have just under thirty people ready to fight.”

“Not enough,” Ilya said, shaking her head. “It isn’t just a handful. There is a whole army out there. Maybe an hour behind me at most. I could have been here sooner, but I wanted to see what we were dealing with. Good thing too. That group that attacked the stag was just a small scouting group. The larger force has thirty to fifty orcs, with a half-dozen goblins to each. No idea how many other scouting groups there might have been.”

Arkk staggered back. “What? That’s… about two hundred? Minimum. How are they wandering in such a large group without the Duke hunting them down?”

“I don’t know, but we can’t be here.”

“But… where?”

“I don’t know,” she said again, grinding her teeth together. “The monsters will see the village, or their scouts will. It won’t be long before they come down on it. Pillaging it will buy us time to move, but only if we start now.”

“It’s almost harvest,” Arkk said, leaning against the carpentry wall. “They’ll burn whatever crops they don’t want. Loot the storehouse. Slaughter the livestock they don’t take… How are we—”

Something hard smacked into the side of Arkk’s face. “Pull yourself together! Everything is already lost. If we don’t want to die with the village, we need to go.” She stepped past him, looking around the wall of the carpentry up toward the church. “We’ll flee to the Duke. He will have to take action against these monsters. Then… we just have to hope he takes pity on us and opens Cliff’s storehouses.”

“Flee to the Duke? You can’t go to the Duke. You can’t go to the Duke, Ilya. He’ll—”

“What other option do we have?” she snapped. “If it is for the village, I can make sacrifices. Just as my mother did.” Teeth clenched, she took off, running toward the church.

Arkk had never met the Duke before. As far as he knew, the Duke didn’t visit the various villages in his fiefdom. He did send collectors for tax and tribute. Every year, they wanted money, food, livestock… and rarely women. Ilya’s mother. Though ancient by human standards, she appeared beautiful and young. At least, that was what Arkk remembered. He had been a mere boy when she had volunteered herself as tribute during a year of poor harvest.

Volunteered herself to save Ilya from that fate.

She had never returned to Langleey. Arkk didn’t even know for sure if she was still alive.

With all the other tax the Duke collected, his storehouses should be plentiful, if not overflowing. Theoretically, he had more than enough to give to displaced refugees.

Arkk clenched his teeth.

“What are you doing?” a trembling, frightened voice asked.

Arkk stepped forward, standing in the center of the circle burned into the ground. With a smile, he reached out and ran a hand between Hale’s twin ponytails, messing up her hair. “I’m going to get help?”

“Help?”

“It’s okay,” Arkk said, drawing in a shaky breath. He spoke more to himself than to the young carpenter’s apprentice. “The Abbess said it wasn’t a demon. It’s not a demon.”

Hale jolted, alarm obvious on her young face.

“Stay with Ilya. Don’t try to protect the shop all on your own. If they leave, you leave with them.”

Giving her a light shove to make sure the young girl was clear of the circle, Arkk knelt and pushed just a touch of his magic into its channels and pathways.

The circle flashed and Arkk found himself plunged into total darkness.

 

 

What did one do when confronted with a pre-Calamity monster?

Die. There wasn’t much more to it than that, Arkk figured. He would try to fight back. It was only natural. Looking at the creature before him, he had no doubts that his little dagger wouldn’t scratch a room-encompassing monster with stars for eyes. Even had he a proper sword or Ilya’s bow, making it angry was all he would accomplish.

And yet, it was a bit difficult to fight back when it wasn’t attacking in the first place. The eyes in the shadows of the room watched him, blinking occasionally. The blue-hued woman standing in the light simply stood. With its hands clasped together at its navel, just in front of another of those glowing yellow eyes, it watched him. Its head tilted to one side, ever so slightly, as if trying to decide what to make of him.

Legends and myths originating thousands of years ago said that aberrant, inhuman creatures once roamed the land. Great wars raged between armies of monsters, devouring all in their path. Arkk wasn’t sure if devouring was literal or a metaphor. Either way, this one didn’t seem particularly hungry. If it had been living in this fortress since the Calamity, or even in the last few months, it had never once bothered the village just a short trek to the east.

Was it trapped here? Arkk shook his head. Even discounting the fissure he had fallen through, this place wasn’t sealed off from the surface. He had spotted several such cracks in the ceiling, a few of which he had been able to see through to the surface.

The thing took a step. Step was probably the wrong word. It didn’t exactly have feet. Roiling tendrils of dark oil snaked across the ground beneath its dress… or whatever dress-like body it had. Whatever it did, it moved with glacial purpose as it rounded the large pit in the dais. Arkk immediately moved in the opposite direction, keeping the distance between them the same.

Though he quickly realized his folly. The shadows encompassing the rest of the room weren’t moving. If they swapped positions around the dais, its shadows would be at his back while it was at his front. Already, it was well within reach of the door he had pried open to get into this room.

Gnawing at his lip, Arkk decided that fighting would be impossible. But it wasn’t attacking and it had a humanoid face. Was talking a possibility?

“Hello?” Arkk said, trying to keep his voice from trembling too much. “Sorry for intruding on your, uh… home?”

It paused, stilling while still watching. The humanoid head canted to the side again. Its mouth opened as if to speak. “[Greetings]/[welcome]. [Long time]|[existence]|[witness]/[visitor]. [Who]|[why]/[purpose]? [Unknown human]|[seeking]|[treasure]/[riches]?”

The torch rolled back away from Arkk and his dagger clattered to the floor. He was not ready for what came forth from its mouth. Clamping his hands over his ears, he fought back tears. The thing spoke, which was a surprise on its own, but it didn’t speak in words. Concepts forced their way into Arkk’s mind.

“[Unknown human]|[seeking]|[power]/[force]/[domination]?”

“No,” Arkk said through clenched teeth. “No. I am looking for the way out.”

The monster cocked its head to the other side, taking another step around the dais in the process. “[Unknown human]|[abandon]/[flee]|[Fortress Al-Mir]/[HEART]?”

It was all Arkk could do to remain standing, let alone move further away from the creature. Hands still pressed to his ears, he knew only one thing: It was open to conversation. To what end, he couldn’t say. But he had to try to plead his case.

“Please,” he said. “My village is under attack. I need to get out of here so I can warn them.”

“[Unknown human]|[seeking]|[protection]/[safety]?”

“Yes. Yes, that.”

“[Fortress Al-Mir]/[HEART]|[ultimate]|[defensive tool]/[offensive tool].” The monster stepped closer. It was far enough around the dais to be on the same side. The tendrils squirming out from under its dress would be able to reach Arkk if they wanted. “[Contract]/[binding]/[agreement]?”

Arkk managed to stumble back, but the woman didn’t continue toward him. Instead, it turned away and moved toward the large stone sphere that had the same maze-like pattern across its surface that the rest of the room possessed. The sphere was taller than either of them but looked stuck inside a crater in the floor. The monster pressed its hand against the sphere’s side, though it didn’t bother trying to shove it out of that crater.

“[Contract]/[binding]/[agreement]?”

Arkk licked his dry lips. It didn’t help. The inside of his mouth was just as dry as the outside. “I don’t know what you’re asking. I need to get back to my village and warn them of an attack.”

“[Agreement]. [Contract]/[binding]|[offer]|[ultimate]|[defensive tool]/[offensive tool]. [Home]/[Sanctuary]|[rescue].” The creature turned away from the sphere, looking back to Arkk. It didn’t need to. Its hair, tied up in a high ponytail, had one of those golden suns peeking out from the thickest part. “[Abandon]/[flee]|[Fortress Al-Mir]/[HEART]|[possible]/[unlikely]. [No exit]|[collapsed]. [Self]/[Vezta]/[SERVANT]|[offer]|[assistance]. [Contract]/[binding]|[required].”

Arkk closed his eyes, feeling more than hearing the monster’s intention as he tried to parse the concepts it was shoving into his mind. There was no way out, at least not anymore. This monster would help, but only if he agreed to some kind of contract. Stacking up furniture to reach the fissure might still be an option unless this thing decided he wasn’t going to do what it wanted. At that point, it might get in the way. If not kill him outright.

“What is this contract?”

“[Offer]|[Fortress Al-Mir]/[HEART]|[ultimate]|[defensive tool]/[offensive tool].”

“Yes. I got that much. What do you get?”

“[Fortress Al-Mir]/[HEART]|[receive]|[restoration]/[refurbishment]/[beat]. [Self]/[Vezta]/[SERVANT]|[receive]|[master]/[leader]/[warlord].”

“You want me to fix this place up?” That… didn’t sound so bad. This place was massive. It would be work, that was for sure. But sweeping out the dust and burying the bodies didn’t sound that horrible. Especially if the monster allowed him to browse the library. What the monster received sounded a bit dodgier, but still not horrible. It described itself as [SERVANT]. A concept filled with far more meaning than the simple word would imply. Despite the language forcing concepts into his mind, he couldn’t quite comprehend what it meant. The basics, if he understood it correctly: It wanted someone to serve.

A faint smile touched the monster’s lips. It held out its hand, palm up. “[Agreement]?”

Arkk bit his lip. Did he have a choice?

There was always a choice. He could choose to throw himself into that deep pit. He could pick up his dagger and stab it into his own throat. He could choose to ignore the monster and face whatever consequences that would bring. None of those saved his village.

He didn’t know enough. He didn’t understand enough. It was too sudden. Arkk generally tried to find the best way to use any situation to his advantage but at the moment, his head was pounding too much to think properly.

“No.”

The smile faded. “[Disappointment].”

“I’m sorry. I’m having a hard time thinking with my village in danger.”

“[Defensive tool]. [Addition]/[bonus reward]|[self]/[Vezta]/[SERVANT]|[strong]/[weight-lifting champion].”

“Yes, I understand that. But it is just a few orcs and goblins. We’ve handled worse. As long as I ready the villagers before the orcs arrive, as long as people aren’t caught out working in the fields, we’ll be fine without…” Arkk glanced at the large sphere. “Whatever that is.”

He didn’t know what it was. The monster could say whatever it wanted to say. Making a contract with some ancient artifact sounded like a good way to get his soul eaten by a demon. He had never heard of such a thing happening, but Arkk would be the first to admit that he was a country peasant with no formal instruction in anything beyond hunting and farming. Even that didn’t count as formal.

The Abbess of Langleey’s church warned of such things in her sermons. Not exactly like this. Demons were known to prey upon ignorant or deviant individuals, offering anything from wealth to skills to revenge in exchange for payments that sounded a lot more innocent than they truly were. Demons were monsters possessing ultimate antipathy for mortals. Making a contract with one was only done by the most foolish of beings. Or so went the teachings of the church. Arkk had never met one.

He didn’t particularly want to.

Tidying up this fortress didn’t sound like any demon deal the Abbess had mentioned, not that she had ever been particularly specific, but it did sound like just the sort of thing that would come with hidden strings attached.

“Please,” Arkk said. “Help me out of here. I’ll even come back if that is what you want. I’ll help clean this place up a bit. But not while I’m distracted with my village’s problems.”

“[Return]?”

“Yes. Return.”

“[Contract]/[binding]|[HEART]?”

“No.”

It was a fairly selfish promise. Assuming he worked up the guts to go through with it. The library interested him enough that, as long as this monster wasn’t going to eat him, he would almost certainly try to come back. He had only taken a brief glimpse into that library, but at least some of the books inside were surely magical. He was fairly certain he had seen the arcane symbol on the spine of one.

Learning magic, even with this thing hanging over his shoulders, was worth dragging a broom out here to sweep out the corridors.

“[Understanding]. [Extract]|[promise]/[word of honor].”

“Uh… sure? I promise to return here if you help me get back to my village.”

“[Acceptable]|[terms]. [Contract]/[binding]|[temporary]/[on hold]/[stay of execution].” The monster stepped away from the large sphere. “[Follow]/[good boy].” It turned and began gliding toward the door he had pried open. The way it moved on its pillar of tendrils was disturbing. Even worse was the way the entire room seemed to shift; the oily shadows filled with eyes and mouths swept around Arkk, flowing into the monster as it walked.

Keeping his eyes on the creature, Arkk bent and retrieved his dropped dagger and the still-burning torch.

The monster laid a hand on the metal door, throwing it open with no obvious effort despite how much he had strained in getting it open. They arrived at the library in short order. Arkk felt like it had been an hour from the library to the maze chamber the first time, but only a few minutes to get back. It did help a bit that he wasn’t opening every door on the way, but it still felt faster than before.

The monster had said that the exit was blocked. Maybe even down that collapsed passage he had started near. Still, he expected some other way out. Instead, he found himself led to a small table beyond the shelves of musty books where a dusty crystal ball sat atop a small platform. The monster swept her hand over it, clearing the dust, then motioned for him.

“[Display]/[imagination]|[home].”

Arkk stared at the glass ball. He had heard about such devices. The Abbey and sorcerers used them for communication. Even that spellcaster who visited the village several months back carried a small one. He knew of them. He had no idea how they worked.

Seeing his helpless state, the monster took his hands. They glistened in the torchlight but didn’t feel wet or cold at all. There was a gentle warmth to its fingers. It held his hands just over the top of the crystal ball, not touching, but close enough that he could almost feel the cool glass. “[Display]/[imagination]|[village]/[peasantry]. [Sanctuary]. [Leaser]/[property owner]/[landlord]. [Eating hall]/[restaurant]. [Livestock]/[field]/[grocery store].”

A white mist occluded the clear glass as the monster spoke. The concepts thrust into Arkk’s mind brought up thoughts and memories without him even trying to think too hard. When the farm came up, Arkk drew in a breath. With it came the scent of freshly cut wheat, the mint fields, and the less pleasant smell of livestock. The mist shimmered, changing to show the village’s fields, lit only by moonlight. Despite the darkness, he recognized the layout and the paths. Up the shallow hill were their local church, a large storehouse, and a nearby barn.

The servant took over, shooing his hands off to the sides. With one of its hands pointed toward the crystal ball, the image began flickering, snapping inside homes, out in the fields, and around the main church building. Eventually the view changed to display an image so high up that he could see the river and the Cursed Forest beyond. A few jarring snaps through the Cursed Forest before Arkk saw himself looking at his own head of brown hair, hunched over a crystal ball in a decrepit library.

He glanced upward, but there was nothing above that indicated a watcher’s presence.

“[Understanding].”

The words brought his gaze back down. The monster’s starfield-like eyes stared into his own, bright yellow suns dominating. “Understand?”

“[Location]/[coordinates]|[understanding]. [Please hold]/[stay of execution]. [Problem]/[concern].”

Arkk narrowed his eyes. The serene face of the monster didn’t flinch in the slightest. Why should it? It wasn’t human and it could probably crush him if it took a sudden dislike to him. And yet, he couldn’t help but glare. “You said you would help.”

“[Assistance]|[agreement],” it said, pointing a lithe finger toward the crystal ball. The image of the village church shimmered into position. “[Problem]/[concern]. [Symbol]/[regalia]/[scribble]|[Almighty Glory]|[Heart of Gold]|[Holy Light].”

Arkk blinked again, this time in confusion over the unfamiliar names. He was fairly sure those were names, anyway. “So… what?”

“[Understanding].” It seemed pleased, offering a smile. “[Disuse]/[abandoned]?”

“No, the Abbess leads sermons every Suun.”

“[Confusion]? [Foreign]/[not us].”

“I… I have no idea what you’re trying to say,” Arkk said. This was a monster. He wasn’t sure what the church had to do with anything. Despite the odd way the thing spoke, he thought they were communicating rather well until now.

The monster jerked its head in a confused twitch. “[Ignore this message]. [Promise]/[word of honor]|[reminder]/[nudge-nudge].” Tendrils swept out from under the creature’s long dress, shoving aside bones, armor, and weapons with no reverence or care. Books, however, were plucked from the pile and carefully set apart, much to Arkk’s relief.

Within the now-emptied space, the monster’s tentacles began working, leaving trails of black slime where there had been none before. Its normal walking and even that careless clearing didn’t leave slime behind, so this had to be intentional. As Arkk watched, he quickly realized that it was forming some kind of magical circle in the ground. A complex one, far more complex than any he had seen before. And this monster was doing it all without turning its head away from him.

Eerie.

“Your name is Vezta, isn’t it?” Arkk said, desperate to focus on something else. “I think that is what I got while you were talking about… contracts.”

“[Inaccurate]. [Self]/[Vezta]/[SERVANT]. [Inadequate]/[sorry state]|[language]. Vezta|[acceptable].”

“Oh. Good then,” Arkk said before an awkward silence fell over them. It was made all the more awkward by the way that Vezta simply did not blink. He had seen the eyes in the shadows blink before, but never the eyes on its face. Emboldened by her answering his question, Arkk asked another. “If you don’t mind me asking, what kind of monster are you? I’ve never seen something like you before.”

“[SERVANT].” The self-proclaimed servant stepped aside, bowing while holding one hand out toward the freshly drawn magic circle. “[Existence]|[relocate]/[walk away]/[walk inside]. [Mind the edges].”

“You want me inside the circle?”

The monster bowed deeply, upper body nearly parallel to the ground.

Arkk looked to the circle, wary. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what the circle was for. Just following the channels, veins, and magical pathways made him dizzy.

Sensing his hesitation, the monster took hold of his hand again and slowly brought him over. “[Safety]/[bodily integrity]|[assured]. [No]|[error]/[flub].”

“Ah, what, exactly does this—”

Arkk didn’t get to finish. The monster took a step back, out of the circle, leaving him in its center. The circle flashed and cold night air soaked into his tunic. He blinked a few times, confused at the library’s absence. Somehow, he was outside, standing on a dirt path. He was just around the back of the carpenter’s shop, between the building and the riverbank. The familiar sound of the water rushing past the locked waterwheel filled his ears.

This was it. His home. Langleey Village.

He was back. That quickly? Did all spellcasters know how to do something like that?

Arkk put the thought out of his mind. Even with the hours spent exploring that fortress, he was back long before he would have been if he had simply kept running. Those hours couldn’t go to waste. Drawing in a deep breath, he turned and sprinted toward the Baron of Langleey’s manor.

 

 

The Cursed Forest wasn’t so much a forest as it was a desolate wasteland. The surrounding proper forest went by the name of Langleey Forest, even though it was further away from Langleey than a few other burgs and villages. Like normal forests, it contained all the usual foresty things. Trees, grass, brush, rolling hills, rocks, and plenty of animals and insects and other fauna. But at a certain point in Arkk’s trek, with the sun at his back, the forest thinned out. Thick, healthy trees turned scrawny and leafless. Plants thinned and yellowed. Even the dirt itself went from a healthy brown to a dead gray color, filled with small cracks and larger fissures.

The people of Langleey Village did not venture inside. When visiting Langleey Forest for food or timber, people took a long and roundabout trail to get to the part of the forest where Ilya and Arkk had been hunting. Legends said that those who ventured in would emerge with a taint that poisoned the ground around them with every step.

That wasn’t true. Arkk had been inside before with Ilya when they were children. He didn’t know what caused the Cursed Forest to become the way it was, but he knew that it wasn’t contagious. That was likely a story meant to keep adventurous children from doing just what he and Ilya had done. That said, it wasn’t without its dangers. Loose soil and deep crevasses presented natural hazards. There were always rumors of monsters, even if he had never seen any evidence.

He had to be careful.

Leaping over a wide fissure in the wasteland, Arkk landed mid-stride. He slowed for nothing, not even the largest of the cracks in the ground. While the sun was still up, he wanted to get as far as he could. Once the sun set, he would only have moonlight to guide his way. There wasn’t a cloud in sight and the moon had been bright these last few nights, but he would still have to slow down then.

Arkk considered himself more athletic than most in his village. They were strong, and work had a way of hardening bodies, but the kindest word he could use to describe most of them would be stout. Growing up alongside Ilya gave him far more time running and moving than he wanted. Even still, his heart hammered in his chest and his lungs wanted ten times the air he could give them. Sweat rolled down his face, back, and arms. The constant leaps and hops over flat but unstable terrain were taking its toll on his legs. He had discarded his sword and Ilya’s bow and arrows to move faster, keeping a small dagger for defense. No bow was going to save him if he stumbled into a horde. If he made it to his village, he could reequip for the defense.

Though Ilya might kill him when she learned he left her bow behind. He was pretty sure he could find it again if they retraced their steps, however. At the moment, he didn’t care. He needed to get back.

In a way, he was glad he was in such a rush. Moving with purpose, even a worried purpose, felt good.

With the sun at his back, low in the sky, the shadows ahead of him stretched clear to the horizon. Dodging around a boulder, he walked along its shadow for two dozen paces. A rickety dead tree cast a shadow ten times as long. They were like spikes. Or teeth of some vast monster—though only the lower teeth. If he went slower, he would have had time to process the eerie atmosphere.

Instead, he planted his hands on a fallen tree, vaulting off into a long shadow.

A divot in the shadow snared his foot.

Arkk swung his arms forward, catching himself just before his face met the dirt. He still skidded along the ground for a short distance, slamming his hip and one shoulder into the coarse ground. Sucking in a sharp breath, pain spiking along his side and forearm, he sat in the dirt for a few moments just feeling his own body.

Was he injured? Nothing felt broken. Grateful for the leather gloves saving his hands from being ground to raw meat, he clenched his teeth and focused. His hip stung the most. Pulling up his tunic, he hissed at the long scrapes. From his stomach down to his thigh, blood seeped from thin lines of torn skin. Scrapes that would soon bruise. Nothing more. It would hurt, but he could still run.

There was no time to dress the wound. He had to get to the village. They needed warning. If Ilya failed and a group of orcs and goblins attacked…

He didn’t want to think about what might happen.

Clenching his teeth, Arkk mustered as much willpower as he could to push himself back to his feet. As much as he wanted to rest, if he took even a short break, he would likely find himself too worn to continue.

On his feet, he locked his eyes on the horizon with clenched teeth. One foot in front of the other. Faster and faster, until he was back to his previous speed. He kicked off with his boot, launching into a sprint once again.

He ran, planting one foot on the ground and then the other… until his foot found nothing underneath.

Eyes widening as his stomach flipped, Arkk fell into a fissure shadowed by a small boulder. His back hit the dirt wall after a short distance, grinding down a steep slope. His hands and boots found no purchase to slow him down. He slid a long way until the earthen wall vanished from beneath him. After falling a short distance through open air, Arkk landed with a grunt on something squishy.

Arkk sat still for a long moment. With his hip burning and now his back feeling like he had been raked over hot coals, he needed a bit longer than before. Foolish. After the first fall, he should have been more careful. He had wanted to get as far as he could in the last vestiges of the light, but now he wasn’t moving anywhere at all.

Groaning, Arkk tried to look around but saw nothing. The fissure overhead looked like a jagged crack in the night sky. No light was getting down, however. If the sun had been higher in the sky… He was in some kind of cavern, that much he could tell by the feeling of the air around him. Underneath him… it almost felt like a bed. A bed of somewhat slimy texture, moving like an oversized waterskin pouch.

Something moved beneath him. Whatever he landed on shuddered and began descending. The squishy bed pulled out from beneath him.

That got Arkk to jolt despite his pain.

Nothing lived in the Cursed Forest. Nothing except rumors. And yet something was moving?

Arkk rolled to the side, away from the direction of movement. He ended up on much firmer ground, though still soft. At least this felt more like woven mats than a water-filled sack. Unmoving woven mats. That, he felt, was the key part.

Feeling at his side, his fingers curled around the hilt of his dagger. Glad it hadn’t gotten knocked loose, he slammed it into the woven mat and traced out a small symbol to the best of his ability. It felt like hard stone beneath, but he was far less concerned about his blade’s edge than he was about being able to see.

Symbol complete, Arkk poured the tiniest amount of magic into it, not wanting to have it blow up in his face.

A brilliant yellow flame erupted from the ground instead. Arkk threw himself backward at the unexpected fire, only to realize that it wasn’t spreading. Small mercies. If he remembered the pattern right, a small orb of light should have popped up into the air. As it was, he supposed the column of flame was doing its job of providing light. Not much, but enough to see the rest of the area by.

He had been wrong. This was no cavern. A cavern was a natural structure. Brick walls and a vaulted ceiling didn’t form naturally. Nor did caves form… beds? It looked like the room was filled with rows and rows of beds—not whatever he landed on as these looked like something he might have in his home. None were occupied, thankfully. In fact, with the amount of dust and dirt coating every inch of them, he doubted anyone had touched them in decades upon decades.

There was, he noted, no sign of whatever he landed on. The area beneath the fissure was just empty ground, covered with some kind of woven mat or carpet. The lack of anything soft sent a chill down his spine. What had he landed on?

Shuddering, he looked up at the fissure. The slope didn’t look as steep as he thought it was. If not for his momentum, he might not have slid all the way down. As it was, he could probably climb back out. If he could reach the fissure.

It might be possible to stack up the beds and climb up them, but… that could take all night. And that assumed that there were enough beds to reach the top of the vaulted ceiling. It was quite high up.

Arkk’s eyes lowered to a doorway at the far end of the room. A door implied that there was more to this place. Beds indicated that people lived down here at one point in time. If people had to get in, they could get back out. That meant there should be an alternate way up.

He was losing time.

With a faint limp, he hurried over to the closest wall. There were torches mounted along the walls, many of which still looked oily at the end. Assuming it would work, he pulled one off the wall and swept it through the flames he had made. Sure enough, it roared to life, providing much greater illumination in the dark. Sweeping a foot through his magic circle snuffed the fire he had started.

Pushing open the door took a great deal more effort than he imagined it was supposed to take. It felt more like he was breaking the hinges on the door than operating them. Even still, he pushed open the door and stepped into a long, narrow corridor.

The corridor had collapsed at one end, leaving him only one direction to walk. There were a few more doors in the other direction, but what drew his eye were the bodies.

“I think I found the owners of those beds,” Arkk mumbled to himself.

On both sides of the corridor, periodically slumped against the walls, were at least a dozen corpses. Some might have been wearing armor. For others… it was hard to tell. Perhaps they had simply worn less robust armor, a material that had disintegrated over time. And it had been a great time since whatever happened here. None of the bodies were anything more than bones.

A rush of wind that sounded like whispers at his back caused the torch to flicker. He whirled, breathing heavily with his dagger gripped in his other hand.

The corridor was empty save for the collapsed tunnel and more bones.

“Is someone there?” Arkk called out. Drawing attention to himself might be a poor decision under most circumstances. He was already wandering around with a torch, kicking open doors. The advantage of getting help tipped the scales against alerting something that was going to notice him anyway.

Wondering if he had let in a draft by opening the door, he simply turned back and continued on the only path he could.

He pushed open each door as he passed them, checking what was inside. The first room, closest to the barracks, looked like a king’s armory. Weapons and equipment hung from the walls, though most spots were empty. The gear equipped on all the bodies littering the place went in those slots. Everything looked so old that if he picked them up, they would probably turn to dust. One room looked like it had chicken coops and pig pens along with a small field. That one, in particular, had him pausing. The field actually had plants growing. Considering how dead everything else was in the Cursed Forest, even a small bit of life surprised him.

Passing by training rooms and even a pool, perhaps for bathing or recreation—though Arkk wasn’t sure if that had been the original purpose of the room or if rainwater had simply accumulated in a basin meant for other purposes—he deduced that this place had been some kind of self-sufficient fortress. Despite living not far away, he had never heard even the faintest rumors of such a place. That, combined with the completely decomposed bodies, meant it was probably so ancient that nobody knew about it.

He wanted to explore the place more than merely glancing into each room. He wanted to drag Ilya here and explore it with her. But to do that, he had to get out of here and save the village.

The one thing he had yet to find were stairs.

Coming to a third intersection in the corridor, Arkk started feeling despair settling in. Just how large was this place? The rooms were massive. Half his village could fit within the sleeping quarters and he had found three such rooms so far. The other two intersections had been a full crossroads, allowing him to simply continue stumbling his way forward. This one, however, only had two choices. He could go left or right.

Picking at random, Arkk selected the right path.

The second he took a step, he felt it again. That rush of whispering wind at his back. He whirled around, eyes searching.

In the dark corners of the corridor where the light from his torch failed to reach, he did see something. It looked like the shadows themselves were twisting and writhing. The strangest thing was inside the umbra. Little golden orbs, like miniature suns that failed to provide light. If they had remained where they were, he might have thought they were some ancient magical lighting technique that had since failed. But they didn’t.

The little golden stars winked out of existence, one by one, as the shadows stilled and returned to normal.

It only took a moment. If he hadn’t turned around so quickly, he would have missed it entirely. Now, however, he couldn’t help but feel that something was watching him. Magic or monster, something had made this empty fortress its home. Was it upset at his presence? Or merely curious? It hadn’t attacked him so far, which he was taking as a good sign.

Was this thing in the shadows what he had landed upon? Unless there was something else moving down here…

Abandoning his chosen path, Arkk followed after those shadowy lights. It hadn’t attacked him and he couldn’t help but feel that those whispers were a beckoning, not a warning to stay away. Heading towards it might be foolish, but… above all, he didn’t want those lights at his back.

He kept opening doors along the way. Some of the rooms were so decayed that he couldn’t even guess what their use might have been. It did interest him that there was a library in this fortress, but he didn’t dare touch a book. If he opened one carelessly, it might fall apart. If it didn’t fall apart, he might wind up reading it. That would be even worse; he needed to get back to the village. This detour was already taking far too long. How long had he been wandering? An hour? Maybe even more.

One of the doors was stronger than the rest, made from metal rather than rotted wood. It took real effort to push this one open, not just because the hinges were one fused block of rust. A heavy door meant something worth protecting lay beyond. Hopefully a staircase up to the surface. After struggling for a few minutes, Arkk liberated an old sword from one of the nearby skeletons. Wedging that in the small opening he had made, he started prying the door open.

The sword snapped clean in two, throwing Arkk back as the counter to his weight vanished. He grimaced as his back hit the wall. Slumping down to the ground, Arkk took another short break, holding his hand to his injured hip. Jostling it with that little move hurt.

His efforts did not go to waste. Although the sword broke, it held strong long enough to leverage the door open. It wasn’t fully open but there was space to squeeze through.

There were no stairs inside, much to Arkk’s chagrin. Instead, it was almost the opposite. It was a large room. One of importance with large steps leading up to a dais in the dead center of the room. The dominating feature was a circular pit placed into the dais that seemed to go down forever. A large sphere, with deep grooves forming a maze-like pattern on its surface, looked like it had been knocked aside. Bodies littered the floor of this room more than any other, making it difficult to walk toward the center of the room. He had to take care, not wanting to trip and fall in.

Pulling another torch from a wall, lighting it, and dropping it down the deep pit, Arkk never saw it hit the bottom. The light just kept shrinking into the darkness until he couldn’t see it anymore.

Arkk backed up from the pit, sinking onto the steps leading up to the dais. It wasn’t a very comfortable place to sit. Deep grooves lined the floor and even the walls and ceiling of this room, creating a labyrinthine pattern that spread across every surface. He dropped his head into his hands. All the adrenaline and exhilaration that came from his mad sprint through the Cursed Forest had long since faded. Exhaustion crept into his bones. The injuries he sustained weren’t making it any easier.

This fortress was too large. There could be a stairwell beyond the door on the other side of this pit chamber or there could be yet another corridor. With as many doors as he had opened thus far, it almost felt like he had to stumble across a way up sooner or later. And yet, it felt like he was never going to escape. At what point would it be better to try stacking up furniture to reach that fissure versus continuing in the hopes of finding another way up?

It would have been nice if this fortress had a map somewhere. The tactical disadvantage of a map showing any intruders that saw it how to navigate this place meant that he doubted there would be one. Not to mention, it probably would have rotted away along with the bodies unless its creators carved it into the stone walls.

Arkk’s eyes drifted side to side. He had been avoiding looking too closely at the bodies throughout the ruins—it felt a bit morbid to stare at so many corpses—but now that his explorations had stalled, he couldn’t help but look at some of them.

He noticed now that they weren’t all humanoid. One was a partially crushed exoskeleton with a great many limbs, looking like a giant spider. Another had four arms and two legs. It was hard to tell what it might have looked like if it was more than just bones, but Arkk couldn’t think of a creature that had four arms. A skull a short distance from the rest of a humanoid body had horns. The oddest thing was a cube. A cube of folded layers of metal with long, sharp limbs jutting out at strange angles. Arkk had thought it was merely a sculpture until he realized that one of those sharp limbs was piercing the chest plate of a more humanoid-looking corpse. A battle-axe almost completely bisecting the cube must have been what killed it, but…

He had never seen anything like it.

Staring at it felt strange. Like it had too many angles for being a cube.

Tearing his eyes away, Arkk looked to a shadow in the room where a little golden light glinted in the darkness. For a moment, he thought it was a mere reflection of the torch off a suit of armor. It blinking dispersed that notion.

Arkk launched to his feet, noticing the room.

The entire half of the chamber changed while his back was turned. Dark shadows covered every surface despite his torch. Inside those shadows, stars burned bright, looking like dozens of eyes. Teeth gleamed in the darkness, forming dozens of mouths with lolling black tongues dangling from the shadows. The entire room stared at him.

Arkk’s dagger trembled in his fingers as he tried to steady himself. The room seeming to come alive into some kind of monster shook him. He just about ran. It would likely be useless given that he was trapped down here, but fight or flight instincts didn’t care about details like that.

Before he could, however, someone stepped out of the shadows. Something. It appeared as a woman, but obviously not human, elf, or even orc. No creature he had ever seen before had dark violet skin. Those same starry eyes that now possessed the rest of the room gleamed from its remarkably humanoid face. The majority of its clothes almost matched its skin, save for being a bit darker. A long white segment that ran down its entire front almost made it look like it was wearing an apron of sorts.

He quickly realized that its clothes weren’t clothes at all. They glistened and dripped. More of those golden eyes dotted the shoulders, stomach, wrists, and sides of its dress-like lower body.

This was a monster. Not like a simple orc or goblin, but a true monster. The kind spoken of in ancient tales from before the Calamity ravaged the lands.

And it was here. Staring at him from across the bottomless pit.

 

 

 

Arkk drew back his bowstring, taking careful aim. He didn’t blink, he barely breathed. Even when the draw of the bow weighed on his arm, he simply clenched his teeth and stared across the field. Arkk watched and waited for the most opportune moment, intending to use every aspect of the situation to his advantage.

The beast dipped its head, antlers disturbing leaves as it sniffed at a crop of berries. Animals were most skittish when eating, but they were also still.

As soon as he saw the stag bite at the bush, Arkk released the string, loosing the arrow.

Whether it was the twang of the bowstring, the rustle of the arrow as it flew through some loose brush, or some unconscious grunt Arkk made, the stag started. It didn’t look up and stare, it bolted without hesitation. The arrow still struck, but in its rear, not in the heart or skull. It wasn’t a fatal blow. The stag wouldn’t even bleed out in all likelihood.

“Damn.”

“Ah well, shame.”

Arkk’s gaze slid to the side where Ilya shoved off from a tree. The elf had remained so still for so long that he had almost forgotten about her presence. “Shame?” he said, not bothering with remaining quiet. That stag rushing off would have frightened away all the other game in the immediate area. “That stag was big enough to feed the village for a week. Bit more than a shame.”

“Don’t let it get you down. It was a good shot. You just had a spot of bad luck.”

“No such thing as luck,” Arkk said, slinging Ilya’s bow over his shoulder as he moved forward. His eyes roamed over the area as he tried to figure out a way to salvage the situation. “Just opportunities and what you do with them.”

“So,” Ilya said, putting on a grin, “you’re saying you missed because of your own incompetence?”

Arkk’s eyes shifted, glaring. “Maybe a little luck,” he admitted under his breath.

“Come on. We’re not going to get anything else in the area today. Let’s head back to camp.”

“That’s half a day’s hike in the wrong direction,” Arkk said, feeling bad for the poor stag. If they didn’t hunt it down, he’ll have just skewered its hindquarters for no good reason. “We can still track it down.”

“The camp—and our cart—is a half-day away already. You want to go after it and then try to lug it back? We’ll never make it.” Ilya shook her head, sending her gleaming silver hair shaking around her shoulders. “In case you missed it, that thing was huge. It was already going to take forever, but now? Even if we found it and killed it, we’ll return the triumphant hunters! Our spoils, spoiled meat.”

Arkk crossed his arms, shooting the elf another glare. “If you go get the cart now, that would help.”

“Through these trees? And back? I doubt it would be much faster.”

His eyes drifted off to the east. They were close enough to the Cursed Forest to see the way the plants didn’t quite grow as thick as they did elsewhere. They hadn’t gone through the forest to get here, of course. It was a three-day trip back to the village by going around the Cursed Forest but through it? It was a half day’s trek through the dead brush, dead trees, and relatively flat land to reach Langleey Village.

In looking back toward Ilya, Arkk caught a glint of something glistening on the berry bush. Smile spreading across his face, he gripped his bow and started forward.

“Where are you going?”

“You should get the cart,” Arkk said as he moved across a small clearing to the berry bush. Once there, he plucked the glistening leaf. “We’ll take the carcass back tonight.”

Blood glinted on the leaf, catching the sunlight. Quite a bit of blood, actually, once he looked around the area where the stag had bolted off. Beyond the initial bloodied ground, the trail petered off, becoming much harder to see as the stag picked up its speed. Still, Arkk doubted it was enough for the stag to bleed out. But it might be injured, tired, and resting to lick its wounds. Ineffectual though his arrow had been at killing the beast, with a bit of it in his hands, he should be able to find it.

Kneeling down, Arkk picked up a stick and started dragging symbols into the ground. A circle to contain the magic, a triangle for the source material, radiating lines to seek out more of the material, and several squiggly lines that resembled runes but probably didn’t matter. And—

“Oh no. You’re going to make it explode?”

“It’s a tracking spell. That mercenary group that passed through the village last year had a spellcaster with a beginner spell book. He let me look through it while they were staying over at the church.”

Ilya frowned, considering. “You’re trying to remember something you saw in a book one time over a year ago?”

“It was a very simple spell. I have part of the stag here, so I can use it to find the rest of the stag.”

“What does that symbol mean?” she asked, pointing with her brown leather boot.

Arkk hesitated, looking at the scrawled lines he had scraped into the dirt. The specific marking that Ilya was pointing out was… a marking for joining? Or… maybe it was just a smudge in the dirt that had already been there.

Ilya let out an exasperated sigh, his hesitation having gone on far too long. “You’re going to make that poor thing explode.”

Arkk didn’t dignify her comment with a response. Sure, one or two spells he had tried out in the past hadn’t turned out as he expected them to. This was a simple spell; it came from a beginner book. He might not be able to remember exactly what each line did, but that spellcaster had said that intent mattered most.

He intended to find that stag.

Standing so that the triangle with the leaf pointed at him, Arkk took a deep breath. He had to be careful. That spellcaster said that he had great magic potential. Too great, even. That was why everything failed, he poured too much magic into everything he tried. Had he been born in one of the cities, the Abbey of the Light would have sent him off to an academy to teach him proper sorcery. Instead, he had been born in Langleey. With no guidance, he often ended up causing problems with knowing he could do more but just not knowing how.

The moment he started to feel a tingle, Arkk snapped his eyes open, cutting off the magic he was pouring into the circle.

His eyes were first drawn to the berry bush. It glowed with a faint ethereal silhouette. Like a ghost in the shape of the plant had settled down just over the top of it. Except, he could see the entire ghost despite Ilya standing in the way. The effect hurt his head a bit, but he shook it off, turning his head toward the direction of the stag.

The trail of blood stood out to him in much the same way. Little pale white splotches that he could see through the surrounding trees and brush. Looking further into the distance, he could see a much larger mass in the shape of the stag. It looked like a ghost wandering through the forest.

“Oh. That looks good,” he said, following the movements of the distant stag.

“You did something that worked?”

“Well, I didn’t mean to see where the bush was.” Arkk glanced down at the leaf in the triangle. “I suppose that makes sense though.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“It’s easy to prove,” Arkk said, hurrying through the forest. “I don’t think it is too far. It looks like it stopped sprinting, anyway. Let’s hurry. I don’t know how long this will last.”

Ilya’s long legs made it easy for her to keep up despite his rush. “Try not to spook it again. I don’t want to be chasing this thing all week.”

“You’re not getting the cart?”

“I’m not going to track you through the trees while on a cart without knowing that you actually managed to get the stag. Hunt it and I’ll figure out the best path to take the cart on my way back to it.”

“That’s going to take a lot of time…”

“I can move quickly on my own. I’ve got long legs.”

“That you do, Ilya,” Arkk said, glancing aside to admire his hunting companion. “Say, maybe those long legs—”

“Are too long for you,” the elf said, tone annoyed but without any real heat behind her words. “You should focus on your target, you lovesick fool.”

Arkk let out a small chuckle but followed her advice.

The stag was still upwind of them. They would have to slow down and try to avoid making noise once they got closer, but for now, Arkk kept up a hasty rush through the brush. He hopped felled branches, skipped over a narrow brook, and found a worn deer trail that let him run in roughly the correct direction without having to worry about further debris.

Arkk skidded to a stop as they closed the distance on the stag. The ethereal glow started to fade and, in a moment of panic, Arkk poured more magic into the spell.

The glow came back, but…

“What’s wrong?”

“Uh,” Arkk said. “I, uh…”

Ilya’s brilliant silver eyes flashed in irritation, though her lips quirked into a mirthful smile. “You made it explode, didn’t you.”

“No! I didn’t even…” Arkk shot her a glare. “Maybe… a little bit.”

“Oh, just a little explosion,” Ilya said, nodding her head. “Of course. I’m sure it’s fine then.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Arkk grumbled, staring at the ethereal… mess. It was still shuddering on the ground, twitching and… looking like it was being ripped apart. Forcing his stomach to be calm, Arkk tried to look at the positives of the situation. If it was exploded, some of it should still be salvageable. They would have some meat to take back to the village. “Come on, we’ll find out soon enough. It isn’t far now.”

Though not far, it still took quite some time to reach the stag. A little under an hour, by his estimate. Throughout it all, Arkk had to watch as the stag continued to peel apart. Rather than a side effect of whatever he had done, it looked like some wild animals were ripping it apart.

Eventually, he spotted the stag on the ground, half hidden behind a large tree. It wasn’t moving. It wasn’t breathing, as far as he could see.

A spray of viscera coated most of the surrounding trees. A few bits of skin hung off branches and an antler was sticking out of a rock a short distance away. But there was something more as well. Something that made Arkk ready an arrow.

Circling slowly, bow at the ready, Arkk’s eyes widened as he watched the translucent silhouette spread out beyond the beast’s body. Further than the explosion looked to have gone. Looking at the beast itself, Arkk frowned. Claw and teeth marks covered the soft underside of the stag’s carcass. Large chunks had been ripped from it. Consumed? His eyes looked around, searching for more of the creature. Small ghostly flecks of blood trailed off a short distance around the forest, but no large chunks that might have been resting in something’s belly. Perhaps because it now counted as part of something else, rather than the stag?

Before he could consider more on the mysteries of the magic he was using, Ilya let out a loud hissing noise. “Goblins,” she said, drawing her short sword. Her silver eyes darted around the forest, looking for any sign of a threat.

Arkk’s wide eyes went back to the stag, looking over its wounds again. He had thought some wild animal got to the exploded stag, but investigating closer, he couldn’t deny the ripping and tearing looked too systematic to be a random animal. Stepping back from the corpse, he scanned the ground, quickly finding three-toed footprints stamped into the dirt around its body.

“They went that way,” he said, pointing toward the fading trail of ghostly blood left behind by the messy eaters. The footprints headed in the same direction, confirming what he saw through his magic.

Staring at the footprints made Arkk gasp. One of them was not like the rest. Rather than the three-toed bare footprints of the goblins, this one was much larger and covered, as if the maker had worn proper footwear. A bit larger than Arkk’s foot. It couldn’t be his footprint. Nor would it be Ilya’s. Neither had walked beyond the carcass.

“An orc?” he asked, waving Ilya over. “I can’t think of anything else that would willingly travel with goblins like that.”

“A pack of goblins is bad enough. Organized goblins?” Ilya said, walking around, staring at the ground. “More orc footprints over here. Different ones for sure. Three… four… five of them? Light, this is bad. Why are they here?”

“The goblins probably smelled the blood and the orcs lost control of them.”

“Why are they here in general?” Ilya asked. “Not this specific spot.”

“They… they couldn’t be after the village, right?”

Pressing her lips together, Ilya nodded her head. “Maybe. Maybe not. We have to warn them.”

“It’s a three-day trek back after going back to camp for the horses.”

“Not if we skirt the edge of the Cursed Forest.”

Arkk looked in the direction of the blood trail, wishing the goblins or orcs had left a part of themselves behind so he could try tracking them. “I think they are skirting the edge of the Cursed Forest. We can’t take on a whole horde on our own,” he said, then slowly looked eastward. “But if we cut through the forest–”

“No! No.” Ilya took a deep breath, gnawing on her lip as she looked around the bloodied carcass. “I can move swiftly on my own. And stealthily.” She looked to the sun, low in the western sky. “It is almost night. If they stop for camp and I slip past them, I can reach the village by morning.”

“What if they don’t camp? What if they find you?”

Ilya offered a wan smile. “That’s why you’re heading back to camp. Grab the horses, leave the cart. Ride as fast as you can.”

“That’s too long,” Arkk said, shaking his head. “It will take half the night traveling in the wrong direction just to get back to camp.”

“If I get caught, I’ll lead them around by their nose, buying you as much time as I can. If I don’t get caught, then I’ll make it before you.” Her sharp, blade-like ears twitched as she forced a smile. “You can do this. But we’re wasting time. Go!”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and rushed off through the brush and trees, hurrying in the direction the footprints had gone.

Grinding his teeth, Arkk turned away from the carcass. He started toward the sunset, only to pause. There was no chance he would ever make it to the village before Ilya or the monsters. At best, he would show up in time to help defend the village. At worst, he would find it ransacked.

Putting the sun to his back, he stared beyond the green trees and lively section of the forest. The Cursed Forest was by far the shortest path. With as much traveling as they had done chasing after that stag, he was even closer now. If he didn’t stop for the night, he could make it to the village well before sunrise.

The sooner he got to the village, the sooner they could prepare and rally for a defense.

Time was of the essence.

Sun at his back, he took off in a sprint.