Strangely desolate, Ethan thought. The road stretching endlessly before him like a ribbon of cracked earth winding through a landscape as bleak as death itself was strangely desolate. No birds, no air—nothing. His horse’s hooves kicked up small clouds of dust with each step. Dead trees lined the path, bare branches reaching the sky like skeletal fingers.
“Deadwoods,” Ethan muttered. “What a fitting name.”
As he rounded a bend, a sluggish river came into view. Ethan guided his horse to the water’s edge, allowing the animal to drink while he consulted his map. It was worn and creased, and was strangely accurate. Knowing people could fly in this world and the existence of strange magic and other things, Ethan didn’t doubt the map’s accuracy—well, to be fair, he had doubted it, but the map’s accuracy had made him reconsider his opinion. And he had.
His finger traced the route to Thornhaven, still a good day’s ride away.
With his mind already formulating plans, he rolled up the map. Once this business with the [Necromancer] was concluded, he’d see about bringing life back to this forsaken land. Good trees—well, not dead trees—would replace these withered husks. But first, he needed to deal with a lot of other things.
The sun crawled across the sky as is horse moved onward, continuing the journey. With twilight came an unsettling whisper, carried on a wind that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.
“Turn back,” the whisper hissed.
Ethan’s hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his sword. He scanned the area, seeing nothing but the same desolate landscape. “Already playing games, are we?” he said aloud. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
It was the [Necromancer], he knew, or at least one of its undead. Weak, too, from what he could gather. If it’d been anything but weak, it would’ve attacked already. It didn’t, which could only mean one thing—false bravado to scare him off.
As if in response to his thoughts, a flock of crows suddenly erupted from a nearby thicket. Startled by the sudden commotion, Ethan’s horse reared. He felt as though a hand wrapped around his heart and pulled at it, hard, trying to pull it into the ground. His stomach lurched, heart pounding, and Ethan gripped the reins tightly.
“Easy, girl,” he said, patting the horse’s neck. “It’s just a bunch of birds.”
Steadying the animal took some time, but he did it. But even as he spoke the words, Ethan knew it wasn’t “just” anything. Need to be careful, can’t say for sure there won’t be an undead ambushing me.
As night fell, the outline of a town appeared on the horizon. Flickering lights from windows and street lamps pierced the darkness. A sign at the town’s entrance read “Hayd.”
“Charming,” Ethan muttered, guiding his horse through the town gates. He was stopped by guards, but it took a look at his face for them to let him pass. Guards were required to memorize the faces of important people to avoid unnecessary drama. And, well, Theodore was... rather infamous.
Something he intended to rectify. Slowly.
Tugging on his hood, he moved into the town. The streets of Hayd were mostly deserted, save for a few furtive figures hurrying to their destinations. Ethan’s eyes were drawn to a building, its windows glowing with warm light and the sounds of revelry spilling out into the night. The sign above the door, swinging gently in the breeze, identified it as an inn—and exactly what he’d been looking for.
Ethan dismounted, leading his horse to the small stable adjacent to the inn. As he secured the animal, the door of the inn burst open, spilling light and laughter into the street. A group of men stumbled out, their faces flushed with drink and mirth.
“I’m tellin’ ya,” one of them slurred. “That monster in the woods don’t stand a chance against me. I’ll have its head on a pike by this time tomorrow!”
Raucous laughter followed this bold proclamation. Ethan observed the scene silently as he finished tending to his horse. The boastful man was large and broad-shouldered, with a thick beard and a nose that had clearly been broken more than once. Punchable face, too. Ethan could see why the nose had been broken more than once.
Stolen novel; please report.
The man was regaling his companions with tales of past glories, each more outlandish than the last. Or more like, each more bullshit than the last. Ethan could spot bullshit when he heard it.
“Remember that time I wrestled that bear? Damn thing was twice my size, but I showed it who’s boss!” The man flexed his muscles, eliciting impressed oohs and aahs from the men and women hanging on his every word.
Ethan shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
Pushing open the door of the inn, Ethan was hit by a wave of warmth and the smell of ale and roasted meat. The common room was crowded, filled with townsfolk seeking refuge from the gloom outside. He made his way to the bar, where a harried-looking innkeeper was struggling to keep up with the demand for drinks.
“Evening,” Ethan said, catching the man’s attention. “I’m looking for a room for the night.”
The innkeeper eyed him warily, taking in his travel-worn appearance and the sword at his hip. “Aye, we’ve got a room. Eight hundred aurums for the night, meal included.”
As Ethan reached for his coin purse, a commotion erupted behind him. He turned to see the boastful man from earlier, now even more intoxicated, harassing a group of women at a nearby table.
“Come on, ladies,” the man slurred, his massive form looming over them. “Don’t you want to hear about how I’m gonna slay that Goblin Lord in the forest? It’ll be the stuff of legends!”
One of the women tried to defuse the situation. “That’s very impressive, sir, but we really should be going—”
The man’s face darkened, his jovial demeanor evaporating in an instant. He grabbed the woman’s arm, yanking her closer. “Going? But the fun’s just starting, love.”
“Please, you’re hurting me.”
The man’s grip tightened, his eyes blazing with drunken anger. “I’ll show you hurting!” His free hand lashed out, striking the woman across the face with a resounding crack. Then, he sneered. “I’ll see how much your mouth can spout nonsense when you’re on my cock tonight, slut.”
Blood trickled from the woman’s split lip as she stumbled backward. The other women retreated, and the inn keeper sighed. “Here we go again,” said the inn keeper, grabbing a spear hanging on the wall behind him. “I warned you.” He took a step toward the man. “No fighting allowed. No harassing my customers.”
Before he could take another step, Ethan’s hand clamped down on the drunkard’s shoulder. The drunkard whirled around, his eyes widening as he found himself face-to-face with him.
“That’s enough.”
The man’s surprise quickly gave way to anger. “Mind your own business, stranger. This don’t concern you.”
“I’m making it my concern,” Ethan replied evenly. “Now apologize to the lady and leave peacefully, or things will get unpleasant.”
The drunkard’s response was a wild haymaker aimed at Ethan’s head. Ethan ducked under the punch. In the same movement, he drove his fist into the man’s solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs. The drunkard doubled over, gasping for breath, and Ethan grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed his face into the nearest table. There was a sickening crunch as the man’s already misshapen nose met the unyielding wood.
The common room fell silent, all eyes fixed on them. Ethan straightened up, brushing off his hands as he surveyed the stunned onlookers.
“Anyone else feeling brave?” he asked.
No one moved. The drunkard lay groaning on the floor, blood streaming from his ruined nose.
Ethan turned to the innkeeper, who was staring at him curiously. “I believe you mentioned something about a room? Get this man hanged if he does something like this again. In fact, I’ll be doing it myself.”
The innkeeper nodded hastily. “Upstairs, first door on the left.”
Ethan tossed a few extra coins on the bar. “For the damages, and get the lady attended by your towndoctor or whatever,” he said, before addressing the room at large. “Enjoy your evening, folks. And remember—hands to yourselves.”
He ascended the stairs, leaving behind a common room still frozen in shocked silence.
The room, as Ethan had expected, was far from luxurious. A narrow bed with a lumpy mattress occupied one corner, while a rickety table and chair stood beneath a small, grimy window. The floorboards creaked with each step, and the faint scent of mold permeated the air.
Ethan sighed, dropping his pack on the bed. “Well,” he muttered to himself, “I’ve certainly slept in worse.”
As he began to unpack his belongings, his mind drifted back to the scene downstairs. Innocent people falling victim to the brutish whims of incompetent men who confuse strength with whatever.
“Add it to the list,” Ethan said aloud, shaking his head. “Hotels and people’s safety. As if I didn’t have enough to do already.”
He moved to the window, pushing it open to let in some fresh air. The view overlooked the main street of Hayd, now empty save for a few stray dogs scavenging for scraps. In the distance, beyond the town’s borders, the dark mass of the forest stretched as far as he could see, with patches untouched by the dead trees.
Somewhere in those woods, the Goblin Lord that the drunkard had so foolishly boasted about defeating was lurking. And beyond that... the [Necromancer]. I might as well dance with the goblin and level up some.
Ethan’s jaw set, then got distracted as Opie stirred from sleep, moving around his arm. Ethan scratched the little one as he made it to the bed and slumped down. Tomorrow, he would continue his journey. But for now, he needed rest.