When Simon walked out into that sunny field from the barn, he knew exactly where he was and exactly what was going to happen, but he wasn’t sure exactly what to do. Well, he knew that he needed to convince the family that lived here of the danger that was coming, but how exactly to do that was an open question.
What he knew for sure, though, was that using magic was probably not going to last time; if Aaric was to be believed, it had some pretty negative side effects for the family that lived here, and he didn’t exactly have another spell that was subtle enough to—
“Hey! Who are you!” the voice of a young boy called out, derailing Simon’s train of thought. “What in the hells are you doing in our barn?”
“Barn, child?” Simon asked, pretending to be a little older than he already looked. When he turned around, he saw the boy recoil from some of his more obvious scars, but he was polite enough not to say anything. “Come now, tell me where your parents are. I’ve come to warn them.”
“Warn them of what?” Aaric asked, more eager than afraid. “What’s going to happen.”
Simon shook his head and insisted that he had to speak with his father. So, Aaric begrudgingly led him out to the field where the man was working the plow.
They made no secret of their approach, and when Millen saw Simon approaching with his boy, he stiffened and stopped. “What can I do for you, stranger,” he asked. He wasn’t quite unfriendly, but he certainly wasn’t friendly either. That combination was enough to make Simon try the direct approach.
“I’m here to warn you,” Simon said, “You and everyone else on my way west. A dark cloud is coming. You know what that means, don’t you?”
Millen looked confused for a moment, then he figured it out and looked to young Aaric with a touch of fear. “Are you sure?” the farmer asked. “When? How?”
His questions came as a barrage, and Simon answered them as calmly as he could. “It has been foreseen,” Simon said, choosing not to provide any source for the statement, mostly because he didn’t know who these people might find to be a credible authority. “That is all that matters, and tomorrow, or the next day at the latest, the swarm will pass through this valley.”
Millen looked deeply conflicted, and he tried to push Simon for more answers, but he just shook his head. “I must take my leave,” he insisted, “There are others to warn and shelter to find.”
“Warn them about what, papa?” Aaric asked, but both of the adults ignored him.
“There’s not much in the way of shelter around here,” the farmer said finally. “Even less where animals are concerned.”
“It’s not the animals I’m concerned about,” Simon said brusquely.
“You would be if you had to eat them,” Millen said, shaking his head, “If the swarmers really do come, this field and all the other ones like it will be gone. We’ll need what little we can save.”
“Fair enough,” Simon agreed, turning to leave, surprised that his words had been accepted so readily. This was either a regular problem or at least something that had happened in living memory.
“Wait, where are you going?” Millen asked.
“It’s as I said,” Simon answered, “Lots of other people to warn and many more miles to walk before nightfall.”
“Would you speak with the village elder with me? Over there in Screeton?” Millen asked, pointing toward the hills to the north. “I… If I try to tell him that something bad is going to happen, he’s liable to ignore me, but if you do it… an outsider… well, he’s got to listen. If we can get him to reopen the old tin mine, then maybe that can give the herds a chance.”
“What about your neighbors?” Simon asked. “Are you really more concerned about your horses and your sheep than them?”
“The boy can warn them, can’t you, Aaric?” Millen asked.
“I can… if I knew what it was I’m supposed to be warning them about…” the boy said, obviously ready to explode from anticipation.
“Just tell them that black swarmers have been sighted, and they’re on the way. Tell them to head to the village, and we’ll take shelter in the mine.”
It took more than a little willpower for Simon to resist the urge to smirk as the eager young boy paled as his father told him about bugs that could devour everything in sight in the space of only an hour or two. One moment, he’d been ready to pick up a sword and be a hero, and the next, he looked like he might faint. Simon remembered the lad being a little braver in their brief goblin hunt, but then one goblin was a lot less scary than a cloud of thousands of vampiric bugs.
After that, he and Millen stopped briefly by their cabin, where he briefly introduced his wife, who was spinning, and his daughter, who was helping to make dinner. Neither woman looked at him very kindly, but Simon was used to it. He was old and disfigured. That apparently made him perfect to deliver mysterious messages but utterly unsuited to speak with women in places where he hadn’t saved their kingdom.
Stolen novel; please report.
Just as well, Simon thought as Millen explained things, and the women sprang up to start packing. It’s not like I’m all that interested in looking at anyone else anymore, either.
The village elder was an older man who quizzed Simon several times as to where he got this information and why he thought it could be trusted. That was reasonable enough, but Simon was already too into his role of mysterious old prophet and gave his best Obi-Wan impression as he answered questions with questions and spoke in mysterious generalities.
“For Gods’ sake, Sir, it’s just a day. Two at the worst.” Millen barked finally. “If he’s wrong, we lose a little time, but if he’s right…”
Simon could tell that outburst only weakened their argument, but he said nothing. This was the sort of man who did not like to have his authority questioned, and even though Simon was old enough for many to consider him an elder at this point, it was obvious that the village elder, only a few years his senior, felt no need to do likewise.
Even after an hour of mysterious warnings, the elder was on the verge of telling them both to go pound sand before other men and women started to show up, demanding answers. After that, things just sort of fell into place, and eventually, the steel-haired old man told them that he would allow the mine to be reopened.
“But only for two days!” he snapped, glaring at Simon, “And it will not be on my head if goblins or worse get you while you are hiding from shadows and the lies of some charlatan.”
After that, Simon almost had to shelter with them. Not only did he want to see what was going to happen, but the idea of fighting more goblins practically called to him. He hated the way that the little bastards stunk, of course, but he’d been looking for an excuse to see if he was worth a damn in a fight anymore, and they would be a better test than most. Besides, if things went the same as they did last time, he’d be seeing Aaric in a few levels, and this time, he’d want to leave behind some fond memories.
Simon spent that afternoon ripping down old boards and helping to round up and drive innumerable goats and sheep toward the mine. It was a complete mess, but it wasn’t hard work, and the sheer chaos of trying to save everyone and everything from their tiny, local Armageddon made him laugh more than once. By the time he was done, he was a little sunburned but happy enough that he went whole hours at a time without thinking about Elthena.
Simon, along with pretty much everyone else, spent the night in the old mines that night. Not many people actually slept. It was hard to do much sleeping with the sounds of hundreds of frightened animals echoing through the tunnels.
Most people at least tried to sleep, though. Simon prowled the farthest end of the oldest tunnels, though, searching for anything that didn’t belong. That deep, there was water dripping from the ceiling in places, which made sense because he’d been told the lower tunnels were long flooded, which was why the place was closed. As much as part of him wished to find goblins, he came up empty, though. The closest he got was when he was ambushed by young Aaric sometime after midnight.
“You find any monsters yet?” he asked, scaring Simon half to death.
“No, the only monsters down here are you, and whoever that is that’s snoring so loud,” Simon quipped, continuing to search for as long as his torch allowed.
“That’s just Mister Branaugh,” Aaric said with a laugh. He was a boy on the cusp of manhood, and he tried to act serious, but there was glee just beneath the surface, waiting to burst free at any moment. “And if there are no monsters, what are you doing all the way down here?”
“Well, the only way to make sure there are no monsters is to keep looking for them,” Simon said with a shake of his head, suddenly feeling very old. “Because as soon as you stop looking, that’s when they pounce. How’s the front door looking?”
“It’s all sealed up,” Aaric answered with a shrug. “Dad finished helping with that hours ago. Tight, too, with cloth wedged in all the cracks, just like you said.”
Simon nodded. Part of him wanted to go cast a spell to reinforce it, but he knew that would only get him into trouble. No, he’d already done his part, and the only magic he’d needed was a little foreknowledge that played on people's fears.
Sometime that morning, he finally went to sleep, sure that the place was safe enough for a short nap at least. Despite the sounds of baaing and mooing, he actually managed to fall asleep, which was a minor miracle in its own right. He slept soundly, too, right up until the bounding and the shouting.
Once Simon had scoured the back of the tunnels, he’d made his way slowly to the entrance, where he’d fallen asleep, not far from the barricade, in case anything bad happened. That turned out to be a good idea because sometime that morning, something bad started to happen.
Not everyone had believed his warnings. Though some people, had decided to sleep in their own beds despite Simon’s pleas, the village elder had joined them at the last minute, marking him as a coward among other things. He had no doubt they were looking forward to mocking him when they all left the tunnels in a day or two, and nothing had happened, but that wasn’t how things worked out.
Instead, when the bugs were sighted on the horizon, they came running. First, there were only a couple pounding on the door and begging to be let in, but more and more came after that. It was an awful moment because there was nothing to do. This wasn’t a modern door with a deadbolt that they could open for just a second like in a horror movie.
This was a barricade that had been hammered together from the existing planks that had sealed the mine for years, along with scraps from dozens of houses and farms. Even if they could take it apart without destroying it, it would take hours to put it all back in place, and from the sound of things, they didn’t have hours. They had minutes. They might even have less.
Arguments erupted then between those who said that something had to be done and those who insisted nothing could be done. Simon didn’t join in the arguments on either side; he just walked to the barricade, drew his sword, and stood there as a barrier between those who might do something stupid and the place they would have to stand to do it.
It wasn’t his preferred answer, and there were more than a few men in here with him who could probably take him at this point if they wanted to try. That didn’t matter, though. What mattered was that there were too many women and children in here to take any chances, and he wasn’t going to let them all get eaten alive because someone they cared about hadn’t heard the warning.
There were some hard looks and a few threats, but once the shouting and the begging turned to screams, no one talked about opening the door again. It was a settled matter. If they opened it, then everyone would die, and that was apparently all the deterrent anyone needed.