It was dark by the time Wes was able to leave the mines. He and his crew had found a large deposit of iron ore in the afternoon and couldn't leave the source unprotected overnight. All kinds of unsavory people and creatures liked to try and sneak into the mines under the cover of darkness. He and the mine owner had tried hiring guards to watch over the only entrance, but there was a low demand for them out here in the wilds. The only people with the right skillset were travelers who frequented The Black Road which split the wilds in half and led to the capital city, Eahmuth. Not to mention there wasn't a soul that dared stay anywhere near the dense forests. So much was unknown about the swath of land that held many names.
Cities and towns and farmsteads littered the cleared patches along the main road, but to go into the wilds was unheard of. Entire armies had simply disappeared within the brush in times past. During the last rebellion fifty or so years ago, the only reason the imperial family won was because the would-be usurpers tried cutting through the wilds to get to the capital walls quickly. An entire regiment had vanished and the rebellion couldn't make up the numbers lost. Nearly nine hundred souls were gone and never recovered. Whether they had been swallowed up by The Great Bog that was fabled to be the home of horrors or had been reclaimed by the moving trees and brush and returned to Mother Earth, not even a scrap of armor was recovered.
Wes tilted his head and scratched his ear with his shoulder. He wondered if his wife and daughter had waited up for him. His daughter was going to be ten years old in just two days. Wes pulled a small, black rock out of his shirt pocket. He grinned as he looked at the purple gem gleaming from inside. It was just his luck. Amethyst was his girl's birthstone, after all. Wes tucked the rock with the hidden gem back into his pocket and gave it a reassuring pat before refocusing on his walk home. He knew this area well. The path between his home and his work only took him thirty minutes to walk every day. But it was the first time in a while he’d been forced to walk it so late. After waving the rest of his crew off in the wagon that was headed back into town, Wes was left alone. He didn’t mind it as it gave him time to plan the repairs to the home he and his wife had built together. It might have been a small cob house with only one central room and an alcove for their beds, but it was home. It was entirely theirs on the land Wes had bought with their own hard-earned money.
Wes had worked as the town smithy for ten years. It was how he’d met his wife and fallen in love. It’s how they’d been able to afford what they had. And, until a new smith moved in and the mayor had liked his prices better than Wes'- despite proving that the newcomer had been cutting corners and the quality would be lacking, it was his entire life. Luckily, Wes had known the owner of the nearby mines and was able to get a job as the foreman for the third biggest operation along The Black Road. The job hadn’t paid as well as smithing, but it kept him and his family from living in squalor.
Lost in thought, Wes didn’t notice a slick spot in the dirt until his boot slid, forcing him to throw his hands wide to keep from falling. He took a sharp breath and cursed as he exhaled. He leaned against the tree on his left and brought his boot up to see what he’d stepped in. His eyes squinted as he strained to make out the liquid that dripped from the leather bottoms. He wondered if someone had spilled oil from a lamp and if it had mixed with the dirt, making it seem dark. His eyes widened in realization. He dropped his foot and quickly whipped his head around, searching for the source. He looked down at the puddle of liquid that was slowly spreading and only then noticed the smell. He covered his mouth and nose and held back the rising bile. He stepped around the mess and searched. It smelled fresh- meaning the animal or, Gods forbid, the person bleeding out could still be alive. He stepped through a large outcrop of brambles, cursing again as thorns tugged at his shirt, tearing a small piece and nicking his skin. He called out, hoping nothing would call back. If they had, they’d be in immense pain. He could just run back to the town and report what he’d seen and he and the sheriff could come back out together.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Wes took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. He knew minor healing magic. Maybe it was just animals fighting and-
He stopped dead and all thoughts abandoned him. He just stared at the abject gore before him. Pieces of everything were everywhere. He fought the next wave of nausea and forced himself not to squeeze his eyes shut. He had to check- to be sure there weren’t survivors. He had to help. He would heal as best as he could and take them into town to the doctor.
Among the pieces strung in the trees, he recognized what had to be a piece of a dress’ bodice. The bone inside the shredded corset was peeking out and a single silver button was dangling by a thread. A single flat slipper lay across the other side, the bright fabric slowly turning black as it soaked up the pool of blood beneath it in the dark night. Wes had a hard time not noticing the small details. If he focused on the big picture, he would freeze up and wouldn’t be able to help anyone. He quickly walked past what might have once been a horse’s torso and searched around the base of a few closely packed trees. And then he heard it; a small groan. Wes' ears were ringing as he willed himself to not faint, but he’d definitely heard a raspy voice calling out in pain. He turned slowly, scanning for signs of movement. Wes called out again and heard a quiet response. He moved carefully towards the splintered and dust-covered carriage and saw a dismembered head before he saw the man propped up against the tree. Wes noted the man’s pointed ears and clenched his jaw. His magic was too minor to help an elf. Elves naturally carried magic with them and could only be healed by magic greater than their own.
Wes shimmied past the spokes of a wheel that was barely attached to the copper hub as if it had been pushed outward and splintered. He looked the man over and asked if he was hurt anywhere. The man, grimacing, nodded and showed Wes several pieces of wood that had embedded into his left side. The blood was practically pouring out of his wounds. Wes felt his arms and hands go cold and his shoulders stiffened as he saw the elf’s other injuries. Four arrows fletched with bright green feathers were sticking out of his back like the tines on a porcupine. Green fletching like that was only used by one group- imperial soldiers. And they were sticking out of this man’s back.
Wes paled as the man began to shake. A terrible laugh rang out from the elf’s mouth as he pushed his bloodied, silver hair away from his face. His eyes were bloodshot and his pupils were so dilated that Wes couldn’t make out the color. Wes tried to scramble backward and run, but the elf’s hand was around Wes' neck before Wes could even blink. He kicked out and clawed at the man’s hands as the elf slowly stood, his wide grin faltering only for a second as the wounds on his side stretched, blood pouring even quicker.
The elf brought Wes closer to his face, only stopping when their noses were barely a breath apart. The elf whispered something between them, Wes' face draining of color. Wes ripped at the hands over his throat and tried to yell for help, but the elf’s grip only tightened more. Images of Wes' wife and daughters' faces flashed behind his eyelids every time he blinked. Her birthday was coming up. He had to give her the gem in his pocket. He had to help his beloved wife make their daughter’s favorite meal. He had to kiss his wife before bed. He had promised to not be home late. Tears streamed down his face, the muscles in his neck tightening as he struggled.
A sickening pop and crack came from Wes' neck. Wes stilled, his arms and legs falling limp as a torrent of tears fell from his eyes. His body released everything and Wes could smell the mix of fear and death waft around him. Wes felt cold- which wasn’t uncommon for early February. But it was as if the elf had popped a cork and had emptied Wes of his warmth. Everything drained out of him. The last thing Wes thought of was his wife and daughter sitting on a blanket under the tree outside of their home, the summer sun setting as they enjoyed each other’s company. He hoped they would continue to be happy without him. He hoped they would move on. He hoped for so much. They deserved happiness at least.