Elendril swatted a thick, pink vine from his face. Dorsten vines were a menace to many forests. Not only did their nauseatingly bright pink not belong in the soft colors of the forest, but they also drank all the water in the near vicinity. They had thick skins, and few animals would eat it. The city had to cull the vines yearly, even with the efforts of all the plants that fought the Dorsten vines as well.
“Ezekriel, are you sure we’re going in the right direction? We’ve been walking for four hours already, and there’s been nothing!” Elendril said to a man barely taller than him, who had a large, faded map in hand.
“Elendril, be patient! This isn’t like those grand adventures you always read about!” Ezekriel said.
“Well, I don’t see the ruins that you talk about! Where’d you get the map, anyhow?” Elendril said.
“Well, if you would pay attention, you’d remember!” Ezekriel glared at Elendril, then pointedly walked away in a huff.
“Fine! But we better get there soon, and you owe me a laro stick when we get back!” Elendril said.
Despite how he acted, Elendril knew he was nervous beyond belief. They were in the Great Forest Selden, for Gods sake! One of the last “Great Forests” of the world. Countless empires and kingdoms had been built and destroyed here. In fact, the map that Ezekriel had was supposed to point them to an old border fortress of the Xerkes Empire, one of the greatest empires before the fall.
Elendril didn’t like it, though. He didn’t want to go at all, but Theresa and Ezekriel had convinced him to come anyways. Someone had to watch those two fools before they did something stupid and died! The Forest of Selden was still a mysterious thing to Elendril.
It had bordered Desden all his life, and he had never gone in there before. Oh, Ezekriel and Theresa would go in all the time, but not him. He wanted to hunt out in the plains, thank you very much. A rustle in the leaves suddenly sounded from their left. Elendril pivoted, sword in hand. His body tingled with anticipation.
A young woman appeared, garbed in plain, brown clothes. Her dappled green, brown, and grey cloak stayed close to her body, blending into the forest even as he watched. Her only notable feature was the startling, blue eyes that shone from under her hair. He relaxed.
“Theresa? Is there anything?” Ezekriel said. Theresa’s mouth split into a wide grin.
“Oh, you bet there is! I found the ruins you were talking about, just a mile ahead! Gods bless you, you crazy bastard!” Theresa said as she hugged Ezekriel in excitement. Elendril felt his spirits rise.
Theresa stayed around, walking merely 8 meters ahead of the others. Invigorated, the three walked faster with a new pep in their step. After almost half an hour, they suddenly slowed down, and came to a stop. For a fort came into view.
Well, fort was a bit of an exaggeration. The dilapidated walls had long been overgrown with weeds and grass. Several holes had been knocked into the five meter tall walls, and as they approached, he could see spots where charred stone and nature melded together. Even so, it was massive. Three lone towers stood above the rest of the fort, one thick and heavyset, the other two slender and spiraling. Numerous smaller buildings could be barely seen above the walls. The fort stood like a separate world, one that watched the world pass by with quiet dignity as it itself fell apart.
“Ezekriel, look! There was actually a fort here! You crazy bastard!” Elendril said. He was hopping in excitement. Forget what he had told Ezekriel earlier! They had made it! A fort of the older empires! Who knew what treasures lay within! A hand grabbed Elendril’s shoulder.
“Wait. It could be dangerous. Be cautious.” Theresa said.
“Oh, Theresa. What could still be in there? We’ve made it, we really have! Let’s go!” Ezekriel said. He and Elendril rushed forward in excitement into the courtyard of the old fort.
Inside, the stone courtyard was overgrown by plants in many places. The courtyard branched off into many streets, where countless buildings stood, empty throughout the ages. A path to the thick tower lay straight ahead, its gates now rusted beyond recognition.
Elendril took a moment to admire the view, then rushed down one of the streets. He dashed past faded motifs, crumbling buildings, and other signs of the ruin that had fallen upon the fort. But he didn’t care. This was all new! He imagined his eyes were shining with excitement like in the stories.
He passed down one street after another. Before he truly explored, he wanted to see everything first. And if he could find something on the outside, that was a bonus!
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It was plain. And boring. Elendril stopped running after the fourth street. He started jogging back to the keep after the seventh street. On the way, he decided to pop into one of the houses, just to take a quick look. The particular house he chose was interesting on its own. It was almost an entire villa, with an incredibly cool crest above the doorway.
The crest was of two dragons in flight, intertwined around a faded star. It was not a particularly large crest, only a little larger than his hand. As he tried to dislodge it from the wall, he noticed a few things.
For one, it was stuck to the wall extremely well! There were many hinges and hooks that Elendril struggled to cut off, even with how old everything must have been.
“It’s amazing how they made everything! If you look here, there’s a surprisingly small amount of parts here! And yet it’s all interconnected in such a way that if I wasn’t cutting at all of this, it would probably last for so much longer!” Elendril said.
“I can’t wait to get home and try and replicate this! But how… would I use this?” He said as he finally managed to prise the crest away and into his satchel. If only it was one of those Bags of Holding. As it was, his satchel was already halfway full with all of the things he had brought.
As Elendril entered the house, he took in the dusty room. The many tools and belongings showed someone was certainly in a rush when they left. On one of the tables, a dusty green book lay on it. Compared to everything else, it was still in a remarkably good condition. When he flipped it open, the words looked fine, if hard to read. He stuffed it away for later.
As he entered the kitchen, marveling at the different architecture that was so blocky compared to what he saw at home, red peeked out from behind the counter. In the dim brown interior of the house, the bright red was glaringly obvious.
At the sight, Elendril felt a chill in his body. Graehounds? Thoughts flashed through his mind like lightning. Where there was one, a pack would follow. They needed to get out. Where were Theresa and Ezekriel?
Now aware, Elendril quickly sped out of the house. He could see the signs that he had missed now. The feces that littered the street. Fang marks and scratches on many of the exposed, wooden planks. Elendril didn’t know where to find them. Panic began to build in his chest, when he saw the two jogging to him from around the corner. They did not make any noise, only wide eyes and waving arms. He jogged over.
“Did you see? Graehounds! We need to get away if we stand any chance!” Elendril hissed urgently.
“Yes, me and Theresa have seen them . We need to get out before they swarm us!” Ezekriel said.
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“Follow me! Let’s go.” Theresa said with an eye roll.
As they ran through the city, he heard a chilling howl. His blood ran cold as he heard the signal of a Graehound pack beginning its hunt.
“Go, go go! Forget about silence, we need to get out of here!” Ezekriel said. They entered a full sprint, where he finally saw the gates of the ruined fort ahead, and the forest trees that stood outside. He was breathing hard, his feet aching as he pounded through the rough stone streets. His lungs were beginning to burn. He felt the familiar sensation of spit beginning to clog his throat whenever he ran too hard.
He cursed at his bow, which banged into his legs constantly and ruined his running rhythm. He looked up, and he could see Theresa running hard through his watery eyes. He looked left, then right. He looked left again. Where was Ezekriel?
“Wait, wait! I can’t run that fast!” Ezekriel said from behind them. Elendril remembered. Ezekriel had armor. He looked behind. Ezekriel had fallen behind by almost seven paces now, panting and struggling to catch up with the other two. Elendril wavered, then stopped running.
“Theresa! We’ll hold them here.” Elendril said. Theresa looked at him in disbelief. Theresa looked over her shoulder, where the Graehounds began to emerge from the ruined fort, and back to the gate, a mere twenty meters away.
“No. We’ll keep going. This is no place to fight a swarm.” Theresa said.
“I won’t make it.” Ezekriel said. “Leave me behind. I’ll hold them off while you two run. Go!” He turned around to face the monsters, holding his buckler up. Elendril hesitated, then grabbed his collar.
“We’ll walk, then!” Elendril continued to drag Ezekriel until he walked on his own. Elendril wondered if he was supposed to feel something other than irritation. They just had to get to the forest, and everything would be fine. The Graehounds were beginning to collect now, and bounded towards them.
Even at the pace they moved, the three would have quickly reached the gate, but Elendril saw the Graehounds would be on them by then. So he stopped, unslung his bow from his back, and nocked an arrow. It was hard. His hands kept fumbling the arrow. The string was rougher than usual today. He could hear the barking of the hounds as they came. He sighted, took a deep breath, and released.
His eyes widened. The Graehound… dodged? Then Ezekriel grabbed his arm and they were running now. The Graehounds were a mere twenty feet now. Elendril’s eyes were still on the vibrating bowstring. There was a dull roar in his ears. He focused his blank eyes on the world that shook and spun.
“We need to climb the trees! It’ll give us-” Theresa was yelling. Elendril looked back. Ezekriel probably couldn’t climb a tree in that time. What if he had more time? Regrets weren’t good. Elendril could buy that time he needed. Graehounds would chase you down if you were alone. Elendril had promised himself that he wouldn’t have anymore. The words were so quiet when he said them first. He had to focus and repeat it for them to hear. The words were hard to get out when he was thinking hard. He wasn’t quite sure what.
“I’ll lure away the hounds!” He yelled. He had only time to see their faces. He did a ninety degree turn and ran, barely missing Ezekriel’s hand trying to grab him. More than half of them followed, seeing easy meat.
He was tearing through the bush now, but he was still thinking. Rock. Bush. Theresa had that face when she was ready to panic. It was usually accompanied by a litany of curses. He glanced for a moment. They were close.
She was bad at hiding her emotions. Duck under the branch. Jump. His feet ached. Stinging on his face?
Ezekriel’s face was so expressive. The jaw drop, even in danger. Elendril wished his face was that expressive. His face was handsome, though. The hounds were panting. He was always too humble. But he was really into rules. Part of Elendril’s cloak was torn off by a branch. It was a good cloak.
Ezekriel even turned down that opportunity to join the church. Was it ten minutes? Fifteen? He had to have ran enough, right? He didn’t have time to look behind while running now. It would be fine, surely. Ezekriel would kill him if he found out he’d been skipping out on the morning runs.
Elendril could feel the stitch along the side of his body now. A low branch… a low branch. There were none? He needed one.
Focus.
-
Branch.
Almost there.
Branch.
Pull yourself up.
Grab the next one.
Pull yourself up.
2.
3.
1.
2.
Elendril was truly, properly in the tree now. So many Graehounds. 12? 8? Everything was blurring so well together. He nocked an arrow. Could he hit one?
No.
Slow down.
No hyperventilating.
He took deep breaths. Breathe. 1. 2. 3. 4. Hold. Out. 1. 2. 3. 4. Again.
He felt so tired. Like leaden weights on his body. Hold on, just a bit longer, Elendril. Nock. Trembling fingers. Fire. He managed to hit one in the side. Whimpers from below. One of them was so fierce. It had jumped onto the tree, trying to climb up to him before he shot it. He couldn’t move upwards, either. The branches above were too small and spindly to hold him.
They were all climbing now, in an interesting way. They would leap wildly until their claws sunk into one of the branches, then use their mouth to hold on as they scrabbled onto it. They were not very large, but they knocked each other down several times. He shot another one. And another. They were too close. Pull out the short sword, fingers still trembling from pulling the bow so fast in such a short time.
The slavering mouth of the red Graehound’s maw. Its tongue was so long. Sharp, grey claws longer than his fingers. It was hard to try and get into his range without getting hurt on the branch. As it lunged, he stabbed it and pushed it off with the momentum. It gouged a long cut on his arm as it fell. The claws were so sharp that his arm was too weak to give it a hold. Did he forget to speak again? What was the noise coming out of his mouth?
There was another one that had arrived. This time, it was wiser. It barreled into him, twisting to avoid the thrust that still nicked his leg. It didn’t survive him stabbing its head. He pushed the dying Graehound onto another one that had made it onto the branch. The tang of blood was like iron and metal. The blood of the Graehounds looked different. It was a dull purple, but it smelled all the same.
Another Graehound had made it onto the branch. His arrow hit it in the eye, and it fell off. It was like a game, now. They would climb up, and he would either shoot it with his dwindling arrows or stab it. He didn’t get many injuries as they came to be slaughtered. His mind was blanking. It was like a fog had come and blocked part of his mind away. It was because of this that one of them had managed to score a long, deep cut into his right leg.
He gasped at the brief pain, but it didn’t hurt too bad. He could feel the pulse of his blood as it flowed out into the world. Beat. Beat. Beat. It felt like he was doused in water, only to be smothered in blankets again. It was a fever dream as he saw the Graehounds begin to yip, then run away. The tree looked naked now, with much of its bark having been carved out by the Graehounds.
Healing potion. Belt. Fumbling fingers, the sweet relief as the deep leg wound healed and stopped bleeding. He gasped. His head felt clearer now. So many dead Graehounds. His hands were so bloody! Their blood and his was drying already in the dusky evening air. Elendril climbed down from the tree, then began to walk back in the direction he ran from. The Graehounds were probably dead. Or ran away.
He could still feel the adrenaline that pumped through his veins as he flexed his fingers. It felt so… good! Even more than sparring, even more than anything else. It was such a tasty and delicious feeling. He was feeling oddly lightheaded. Something warm was flowing down his leg.
“Huh. And I used my potion on my arm.” He mumbled. A large gash, almost the length of his calf. Blood flowed with each step he took. He started limping, aware of the growing pain. He continued to walk.
“Odd. Shouldn’t I have seen them by now?” Elendril frowned. Maybe he had gone in the wrong direction. He wasn’t very good with directions. He kept on walking.
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He walked for a while, until he saw a small cabin in the woods. It looked vacated, and upon knocking and entering, it was dusty. His eyes alighted upon a small cot that lay in a corner, right below a window.
“Cough, cough! Gods, there’s so much dust here! But it is a nice cabin. Okay, it’s decided! I’m sleeping here tonight!” He said. He had tried to patch up the leg wound, but he was still bleeding. And he was so tired. Yawnnnnnnn. He could barely keep his eyes open by the time he had reached the cabin.
He carefully lay down on a small straw mat, and shivered.
“It’s a cold night, tonight.” He mumbled. He curled up into a ball and wrapped his ruined cloak around for warmth, as he drifted off into a deep sleep. Above, a shadowy hand reached for his head.