It was surreal to see a town that he could easily tell was lived in even from far away, and it hit Lucas surprisingly hard. For that week he’d been travelling alone, he’d gotten used to approaching settlements with mounting hope only to find them long abandoned. After half a dozen disappointments he’d stopped letting himself believe he’d ever find people. It hurt less that way.
Tall wooden palisades stood behind a wide moat empty of water, both surrounding a town that could’ve been taken out of a medieval painting. Wattle and daub buildings with thatched roofs and timber beams clustered around stone walls that surrounded the modest keep at the town’s centre. Wooden watchtowers loomed over the wooden walls at even intervals, and five spired stone towers rose from the walls around the keep.
Even from a great distance, there were signs of inhabitation. A few bits of laundry on lines. Smoke rising from a handful of chimneys. Fields stretched out from the town in neat rows, some tilled, some fallow, some sowed, and others still seeming ready for harvest. Though there was no one out working them at the moment, it was clear they’d been recently.
Though it was only in the upper half of Mornlunn’s most central county on the map, Taunton was one of the northernmost still-populated towns remaining in the entire country. Boasting a permanent population of around 200, its primary economy was in acting as the last major waypoint for questers forging north into Steffonshire or beyond into the Blighted Lands. A frontier town, they called it. It was supposedly common for there to be more people passing through than local inhabitants, meaning there could be as many as 500 people in the town.
The prospect was both exciting and surprisingly unnerving. While being in a populated area would be a balm for his soul, he had to admit it would probably be a bit overwhelming after so long in the wilds. If the adjustment period he’d needed for a semi-comfortable bedroll was anything to go by, sleeping in a proper bed was going to be an ordeal.
In the end, he decided he was going to look forward to it. It was about time he let his guard down and felt a bit of optimism.
Eleanor and Elbert lit up with excitement the nearer they got and started skipping ahead with Elwyn and Aly in their wake. Wick seemed lost in thought, observing the town. Valerie was as sharp-eyed as ever, and she held onto Lucas’ arm to slow him, growing a gap between them and the others.
“Remember to be wary. We can’t afford discovery here,” she whispered.
“I can be discreet. I hid myself from you and your party for a whole week, didn’t I?” Lucas whispered back.
“Poorly,” Valerie said. “It was only through the unlikelihood of the circumstances that we didn’t consider your identity sooner.”
“And that doesn’t apply here?”
“You got lucky. The original four members of the quest to Pentaburgh all happened to speak Mornish as our native tongue,” Valerie said. “A town like Taunton is more likely to have a diverse range of people. Someone will hear you differently to others. They might not make the connection just from that, but it will make them ask questions.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll keep my head down,” Lucas sighed. “I wasn’t exactly planning on chatting up every person I see.”
“Good,” Valerie said with a nod. “We’re going to head straight for the keep and check in with the scriveners there to see if there’s any urgent news. Then we’ll get a room for the night. I don’t want to be here for more than a day.”
“What’s the rush?” Lucas asked.
Valerie shot him a flat look.
“I get it, I’m just not super excited to get back out travelling straight away.”
“You’ve shown no signs of fatigue even with our training.”
“Ah, well. I always have to make sure to put on a show there,” he said with a wry smile. Then, more quietly, “And truthfully, the Gift has me feeling fitter than I’ve ever been by a mile. We could probably go twice as far in a day before I’d feel it. I wonder how well I’d do in a marathon, these days…”
Valerie watched him for a moment. “You’re in a good mood,” she observed.
“There was a time when I wondered if I was the only person alive in the whole world,” Lucas said. He gestured widely at the town ahead of them. “I’ve met people since then, obviously, but you were all just random people in the countryside. Here’s a sign, before my very eyes, real and tangible, that there’s civilisation out there.”
“Understandable,” Valerie said. “I’ll admit it’s heartening to see you in high spirits. You’ve been prone to dour moods, with seemingly only your magic able to cheer you.”
“I’ve been holding on,” Lucas said. “But this feels like the turning point in my fortunes, I guess.”
But as they got closer, hints that his cheer was premature started to arise. They noticed disturbances in the fields that hadn’t been clear from a distance, and the sight of them was familiar; it would’ve been difficult to forget the signs of beast tracks when he’d been taught to spot them just a few days ago.
It wasn’t the same kind of mass stampede as they’d seen before, thankfully. The trails were all, from a cursory inspection, individual, and they were mostly spread out, only converging as they filtered towards the town’s tall wooden gates.
The oddest part was that the trails didn’t stretch back beyond the grid of fields surrounding Taunton. One and all, they seemed to just… appear. There were a few craters in the ground, like a meteor shower had descended on the fields.
Something heavy settled in Lucas’ stomach. He had an awful suspicion, but he kept it to himself for now, hoping it wasn’t true.
As they got closer, signs of battle became clearer. The wooden palisades were covered in scratches in many sections, like something huge had clawed at the wood, trying to scramble over. Dozens of dark gashes rent the ground beneath the walls, and broken arrow shafts, javelins, and other thrown weapons littered the soil.
The gates had had it the worst. They were chipped and splintered, and the remains of what had probably been a drawbridge was strewn around the far side of the moat.
“It seems we weren’t the only ones with uninvited guests last night,” Wick murmured, walking slowly at the head of their group.
“The town weathered the assault, at least,” Valerie said, gesturing.
There were people stationed in a few of the watchtowers, and a couple of men rushed along the walls towards the front gate. One wore a distinctive blue cloak. Muffled shouts echoed over the fields.
The party and the farmer’s family approached the front gate with the firesheep trailing behind them, and the trouble of the destroyed drawbridge immediately presented itself. Luckily, the Skycloak manning the gate called down to them, “You’ll have to enter from the west or south, unless you fancy scaling the moat, Captain Vayon.”
Lucas stepped forward to peer down the moat. It wasn’t deep or steep enough to be unmanageable, but he reckoned the farmer and his kids would have trouble. He was working under the assumption they weren’t going to bring the firesheep into a town full of flammable buildings.
“Who goes there?” Valerie called back. “Is Ser Bery no longer stationed here?”
“Deryk Maye of Summertown,” the man replied. He was a tall man with dark hair, decked out in the same outfit as Valerie, white armour and blue cloak. “I came to relieve Ser Bery as of last month. She requested a return to the Moontower.”
“Well met, Ser Deryk. I’ve heard of you.” Valerie nodded to herself. “What happened here?”
“Beasts came from the north. They fell from the sky, though none of them had any means to fly that we could see. One of them even landed right in the centre of the bloody market and caused mayhem. We had to fall back to the keep. If the townsfolk were still here, it would have been a disaster.”
Lucas’ stomach dropped. It was exactly as he’d thought. Shit. How much damage had the monsters done? How many people had died putting them down?
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“The townsfolk have evacuated?” Valerie asked.
“Fled south towards Dawnguard the moment Harwyck sent out its distress call,” Deryk confirmed. “I assume you haven’t heard the news on that matter? Judging by the fact you have the young Bowmaiden Aly with you, you came from the north—my thanks for that, by the way. It will soothe Bowmaster Jeisyn’s mind; the man has been wracked with guilt, thinking he sent the girl out to scout a countryside crawling with beasts.”
“I was fine,” Aly snapped, looking uncomfortable. “Tell him he doesn’t need to be nagging at me all the time.”
“Even if you aren’t officially a member of the Society of Bows, he feels a duty of care towards you,” Deryk replied. “He’s just that kind of man.”
“Harwyck sent out a distress call?” Valerie asked.
“Come to the western gate,” Deryk said. “We’ll talk there.”
~~~
It had started in the dead of night with the tolling of bells. Thankfully, the few people remaining in Taunton had been living in fear of a major beast attack for weeks, and most were already in the safety of the keep. Those outside had been ready to flee at a moment’s notice, with the walls manned by guards. Most of them should have been able to get to safety.
They hadn’t been expecting one of the beasts to already be in the town, having descended from the sky like a vengeful god of death. A horse-sized tentacled shadow thing, it had gone out of its way to snuff out any torches and plunge the town into darkness, screaming in fury all the while. Only then had it started killing.
“It was fortunate that only one landed within the town,” Deryk said, though he didn’t look like he thought it was fortunate at all. His eyes were dark with anger. “As it was, I had to abandon the walls to hunt it down, and in that time more came to batter at the gates. We’re used to seeing small packs attacking us in the night, and weren’t prepared for so many. Bloody careless of me. We lost eight men while I was distracted, and five more before we dispatched all the monsters.”
Lucas felt ill.
They were moving as a group towards the keep, with the two Skycloaks taking the lead. Elwyn and his children ended up in the middle of the group with Aly stalking along beside them, while Wick and Lucas lagged behind, just close enough to be in earshot of Deryk and Valerie’s conversation. The firesheep had been herded into a small pen just outside the city walls, with a pair of men warily watching over them. They were all quiet, listening to the Skycloaks talk.
There were few people out on the streets, and those who were had their own business to attend to, paying little attention to what they assumed was an average questing party returning from whatever commission they’d been out on. Lucas was still awed by them, and tried not to stare too much. People. Civilisation. He could hardly believe it.
What would these people think if they knew Lucas Brown was among them? What would they do if they found out how the beast that had infiltrated their town had gotten so high in the sky in the first place? Or how all the others had ended up in their town’s proximity?
The latter two questions seemed especially pertinent as they traversed the main road that cut right through the town from the main gate up to the keep at its centre. The dirty path had been churned up by combat, mud mixing with blood and other unidentifiable fluids to form a brown-red slurry.
A number of the buildings sitting in neat rows on either side of the street had had their daub stained with bloody sprays, and those that hadn’t were dented, cracked, or outright smashed through in the midst of whatever conflict had transpired here. Even the walls surrounding the keep at the far end of the long street showed signs of a clash, long scars visible on the stone, with some sections missing like it had been torn away by tooth and claw.
Thirteen men. Deryk’s assertion that it could have been worse didn’t make him feel much better.
“There would have been a panic, most likely,” Deryk said. “Hundreds would have died to beasts or stampedes. There was almost a crush as it was when the call from Harwyck arrived. I tried to limit the spread of the news, but it got out, and everyone rushed to leave as soon as our warriors and questers left, fearing the city would fall before reinforcements could arrive from Dawnguard. Some didn’t even bother taking their belongings.”
“That’s problematic for a number of reasons,” Valerie said grimly. “We’ll need populated towns if Harwyck falls, else the Blight will spread even further.”
“Indeed. Luckily, the Guilds and guards had the honour to remain, to ensure any questers still unaccounted for don’t return to an empty, desolate town, if nothing else. But we can’t hold out here if the city falls. I’ve called for aid, but…”
“Harwyck will take priority,” Valerie finished for him.
Deryk nodded.
Harwyck, Deryk explained, was in grave jeopardy. The signs of increased beast activity had been noticed for months, and the city was already on high alert when an enormous demonic horde had crashed through the frontlines and plunged south into the heart of Mornlunn, striking straight for a city that acted as a stalwart shield against the spread of the Blight. The city’s Commander had already gathered an army to meet the threat, but it hadn’t been enough.
The army had been routed, the Commander slain, and the remaining leaders of the city had sent out desperate calls for aid. The College of Wands, the local chapters of the Order of Five, all the guilds, and even the various criminal organisations; everyone had called in their contacts to come to the city’s defence until a major force could be assembled from Dawnguard. The stakes were well known, and the vast majority of warriors had answered. There’d been an exodus of battle-capable people from Taunton, with the civilian population evacuating for Dawnguard shortly after, and the same story had apparently played out all throughout the county. There was apparently around fourty people left in the town, accounting for last night's losses.
The request for aid had gone out three weeks ago. They hadn’t heard any further word from Harwyck in eight days now. No one nearby had, either. Many feared the worst, and there was a grim atmosphere in Taunton; many saw the beast attack as a sign that the city had fallen, and the demon horde had allowed their minions to flood into the surrounding county to ensure the Blight’s spread.
“We will remain for as long as we can,” Deryk said. “But there will come a time where it would be foolhardy. There’s no use throwing our lives away if it turns out the spread of the Blight is inevitable; we can make a difference only as part of a larger effort involving all the other settlements dotted around Harwyckshire. The Guild folk will remain until they can confirm the fates of all their unaccounted members or until it becomes truly untenable. I will depart when no one else remains here.”
“That could condemn you to a fate worse than death, you realise,” Valerie said, looking at him side-on.
Deryk smiled back. “I may not be a veteran frontliner like yourself, but I have my own sense of duty, Captain.”
Valerie gave no reply to that.
At that moment, they passed an archway that led to a small, grassy area devoid of buildings. Stones stuck up from the ground at regular intervals, surrounded by pentagons drawn into the ground with objects placed at each point. There was a small crowd of people, heads bowed, observing the graves.
A bunch of the graves looked new, the soil brown and fresh. He didn’t have to count them; he already knew there would be thirteen.
It was too much. Lucas retreated within himself. Sights, sounds, smells; they all bounced off him. He moved in a daze, a trance state, following the others without allowing any thoughts to penetrate his mind. The Skycloaks kept talking, but he no longer registered any of it. Valerie would tell him later if there was anything important discussed.
He waited as the group paused to bow their heads for the fallen; people often seemed compelled to get bodies buried as quickly as possible. Lucas had felt a similar obligation, back in Pentaburgh. It had been rooted in manic emotion, but he wondered if there was more to it, considering what Valerie had explained about the fifth rite ritual. Something to consider.
They moved on towards the keep, and Lucas spent most of it feeling like he was watching himself from a step to the side, peeking over his own shoulder.
He tried to keep his mind utterly blank, to turn himself into an automaton that did no more than follow, but thoughts kept battering their way in.
Beasts had fallen from the sky in the dead of night and attacked a town right at the same time that he’d been using pyromancy to launch beasts high into the air. Much as he tried not to think about it, it was impossible not to.
Just a few hours ago, triumph had tasted so sweet. Now his victory had turned to ashes in his mouth. He remembered with crystal-clear clarity how relieved he’d felt when the beasts took longer and longer intervals to return, and he’d kept launching them in the direction that caused the delay. Eventually, they’d stopped coming back at all.
Now he knew why. He’d been throwing them at another, tastier target. In essence, he’d unknowingly sacrificed the innocent residents of a town to save himself and his party.
The clues had all been there. If he’d stopped to think about it, he could’ve figured out what was happening. He’d known, vaguely, what direction Taunton was in relation to the farm; Aly had told him at some point. If he’d just thought…
It was a heavy burden to place on himself. Perhaps even unreasonable. It was an accident, not some grim pragmatic decision he'd made.
But making such a costly mistake wasn’t something that could be shrugged off when the sight of thirteen newly dug graves was fresh in his mind. People had died to the beasts he’d inadvertantly directed here. He wondered, as he always seemed to these days, who the people had been, the lives they’d lived, and more.
It felt like the majority of his attention was devoted to suppressing the part of him that wanted to ask those questions here. He couldn’t bear to even consider the answers.
At some point, he found himself standing in the courtyard of the keep, staring blankly at a giant star engraved into a monument at the yard’s centre. His hands shook so violently that he would’ve rolled his eyes and called it pathetically fake if he saw an actor doing it in a movie. The thought squeezed a laugh out of him, and once he’d started he couldn’t stop. He placed his head in his hands. Why couldn’t he stop laughing?
He was vaguely aware of hands on his shoulders, of a deep voice whispering to him. None of the words penetrated past the ringing in his ears.
Lucas had blamed himself for a lot of things since arriving on this world. Many of them were silly; things he couldn’t have actually done anything about, or matters on which he didn’t have enough information to make a sound decision. He’d acted illogically at times. Occasionally gotten overly emotional over stuff that was out of his control or not actually that big of a deal in the first place.
A part of him would have loved it if this was an overreaction. He wished it was. With all his soul, he wanted there to be an alternative explanation to the one he’d settled on.