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THE FOREST OF WILHEMSPYRE

A FEW HOURS FROM THE CAPITAL.

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“What kind of title is Godqueen anyways? I mean, really? She could have had Divine Envoy. Oh, wait!”

The voice belonged to a young woman. Moonlight poured into the carriage and illuminated her skin. With a smile on her lips, Tharia rested her head against the cushions and snapped her fingers.

“Divine. Empress. That’s a title with dignity. I would have taken that title and the people would have loved it. There are still people in the capital, aren’t there? I mean, would be silly to go there with everyone dead... they’ve got to be alright”, her voice took on a somber tone, yet the fake smile quickly crept back on her face by sheer habit. Her joviality was a tried and tested mask. She knew full well the others weren’t listening. But she couldn’t help it.

“So what do you think happened? In the capital I mean. Did they go from divine love to götterdämmerung and eternal curses? How did that happen? Did the king cheat on the goddess? Wait, maybe she did?”

A grumbling voice cut into her monologue.

“Lad, shut it”

The gruff old man sitting opposite her shot the girl an angry glance. Tharia fell silent. Lad. Boy. Man. Despite all the years, the words still had a sting to it. She knew well herself, that at best she could be described as boyish looking. The short black hair didn’t help and what little shape she had, she all too consciously hid underneath saggy clothes.

She took a deep breath. It mattered little. Her voluptuous sister could have all the marriage proposals now and reap mind-numbing back pain later. Tharia felt a moment of guilt – that was decidedly too much glee for her own taste but she couldn’t help it. In the end, it wasn’t her sister that deserved her ire. The sole reason she was waltzing head first into the fallen capital was her brother. He was the heir apparent to the noble Verholden House and a true demon at heart. Tomboy this, a human failure that. He had subjected her to a nonstop torrent of derision and abuse. The girl absentmindedly brushed a hand over her knees, as a thundering voice cut her self-pity short.

“Get out here, we’ve got company”

It belonged to a mountain of a woman. Even sitting, she would tower above everyone else and the normally massive horse underneath positively looked like a pony in comparison. That woman was the mercenary leader. Tharia still considered her overpaid but had little recourse in the matter. So far, the woman had been very professional. There was also the coachman with the villain goatee. He was alright as well. Just the old rifleman seemed to have it out for her. She quietly watched him climb out of the speeding carriage. He groaned and grunted all the way. A knock from the roof was followed by a grunt.

“Brat, hand me my rifle and then sit still. The second you cause us trouble, we’ll classify you as cargo instead”, he growled from upside.

Tharia quietly handed him the rifle but not without scratching the wooden handle with her nail. She could be properly petty at times. A strong winded tousled her short hair and she realized the door was still open, allowing her a closer look at their surroundings.

The carriage thundered through the forest at a breakneck pace with thick fog chasing it. The weather itself seemed alive as if it were trying to grasp the vehicle with white tendrils. A clicking noise drew her attention back towards the roof.

That shifty old bugger used the scope on the rifle to examine the fog. While the rifle looked primitive, the scope was anything but. It was a weird brass contraption with a wide arrangement of lenses that could be slotted in at will. Each of the lenses also had a strange resting place within a crown of vials. With sure motions that betrayed the expert, the rifleman slotted in another lens, followed by the familiar clicking sound.

“It’s not Drudenfuss, I’ll tell you that”, he said while butchering the pronunciation. Tharia only knew the basic principle of the scope. Otherseer, they called it, somehow coating the lenses with various herbs made it easier to see the fallen creatures. She thought it a superstition until the scope suddenly glowed a faint blue.

“Engelwurz. Hm, not quite but close. Boss, we might need to setup a perimeter”, he shouted. Another click followed.

“Bloody abyss! No, no, no. Damn it, Whiskerhushs! Yeah, definitely”, he shouted at the top of his lungs. Tharia’s heart started to hammer in her chest, she had no idea what kind of creature it was, but the man’s reaction scared her. She felt the sudden urge to talk, to say something. Her hands were restless and nestled with her shirt.

“Wouldn't it be funny to die just miles off the capital? You’re professionals. That won't happen. You wouldn’t leave me alone, right? Of course not, no. Absolutely not. Don’t leave me alone”, she muttered and upon a glance from the giantess, she put a hand above her mouth to muffle her sounds but still kept on talking. Cursed nervous habits. Trying to distract herself, she quickly pulled the door shut and pressed herself into the cushions. Shhh, you’re not a coward, she told herself. Hush, it’ll just go away. Like all the times father screamed at her for things she didn’t do and the person she wasn't born as.

The leader was shouting outside, “Why ain’t we stopping?”

“No can do, honey, the horses have gone wild”, replied the coachman from up front.

“Try anyway. Alright everyone, Whiskerhushs, remember your training. Aim for...”

Tharia suddenly realized that complete and perfect silence had encompassed her. The giantess outside was still shouting, but no sound reached the girl. Her eyes started to itch and when she rubbed them, red blood ran down her fingers. Confused, she shook her head and was rewarded by a throbbing headache and more blood, this time dripping down her lips.

She felt a slight disturbance of wind and whipped around, only to come face to face with a catlike creature. Behind it, the carriage door had simply disappeared halfway with the beast sitting on the rest of it. At first glance, the creature looked like an oversized kitten that has had a bad hair day. That impression was quickly lost when she saw the gnarly horns growing from the creatures head. A faint sense of motion made her stare at the two tails that were vibrating in a weird way. Right, Whiskerhush fit it well, although she would have called it Mister Fluffythorn.

“Easy there”, she mouthed with no sound coming out of her lips. The silence was unnerving. Panicking, she reached underneath the bench and pulled out a sheathed sword. Why wasn’t the beast doing anything? Why did it just stare? The pain increased in intensity just as the creature in front of her suddenly unfurled. It was a grotesque sight, part of the fur just divided to make place for bony tendrils held together by a glistening membrane. With this, all semblances with a cat were gone. The creature hooked its sharp claws into the carriage and then simply stared at her.

Intense bouts of nausea clouded her mind and her chest hurt more than before. Despite all that, this wasn’t it. Not yet. These beasts weren’t what send her spark into hysteria. The constant healing done by the spark had started to weaken as it distributed itself across her body. Almost instantly, intense mind numbing pain shut up from her legs.

She pushed the issue aside and instead whacked the Whiskerhush upon its head. Glancing at the sheer ineffectiveness of the attack she wanted to punch herself. Alright, girl. Use your brain. Unsheathe weapon, poke monster. Celebrate success.

With her entire body shivering she finally drew the sword free and then stabbed the Whiskerhush. Within the carriage, there was just no room for swings. The creature just sat there and allowed it to happen. Without providing any form of resistance, the blade drove into it until she just pulled it out again with seemingly no effect, safe for greenish looking blood on the monster’s coat. The beast just titled the ugly head in curiosity.

“You’ve got to be kidding me”, she tried to say with no success. More out of instinct than purpose, she stabbed it again and again, with no more success than before. Her grip on the sword faltered.

Worthless girl. Look, father, you shall get your wish, she thought. This is why he had sent her out after all. It was a convenient way to get rid of her, with the remote chance to free her much more valuable brother. Sudden spite and anger welled up within her. She leaned back into the bench and lifted her legs. The divine spark within was busy healing the weird bleeding and a bit of pain seeped through her spine. Regardless, she just flat out kicked the Whiskerhush into its ugly face with all her might. Something audibly crunched! Confused she realized the sudden sound as the Whiskerhush toppled out of the carriage. Noises came rushing in like the fist of a titan. She closed her eyes for a bit. Just a second. The mercenary woman had warned her but she just had to.

“Shite, the girl is dead”, she suddenly heard a far too loud female voice. Tharia felt properly miserable. Every part of her body ached, most of it came rushing in from her lower half. The divine spark was in overdrive, desperately trying to repair damage in too many places. She forced her eyes open again and noticed the sky above her. The carriage had stopped and she seemingly had passed out.

“Nevermind, the client is still moving”, the warrior-lady with the mean looking tree-trunk of an axe gave her a nod and then shouted to the rifleman a few steps away “Try hitting something. Preferably not the trees or another of the horses”

"Had to stop them"

"Sick puppy"

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

The girl ignored her surroundings as she suddenly felt odd. Her belly felt like complete chaos with the energy bouncing everywhere, but there was more to it. The flame felt nervous. Somehow, her bloodred hands paled in comparison to that feeling of dread from within.

“Something is coming”, Tharia spoke with a hoarse voice.

“Yeah, more of those pests”, she giantess had seemingly heard her and replied with snark coating her words. Without breaking a sweat, she swung her oversized axe like a toy and simply splattered a Whiskerhush underneath it. But no matter, very quickly a second and a third of the beasts had shown up. They circled the woman and suddenly, the sound took on a weirdly squashed tone. That was the moment the gentle voice from the coachman reached her ears. He smiled in her direction.

“I told them you were more resilient than that”

Everything about him was just her type but whenever she looked at him, the spark would get very agitated. No matter, he had a sudden look of concern on his face and pointed at her legs. They were bent in odd and unhealthy ways.

“Girl, that ain’t right. They should not bend that way”

“Give me a minute, it will be fine”

He raised his eyebrows as if to ask: How are you going to do that but was distracted by a sudden hiss. Weirdly muffled sounds introduced the appearance of more Whiskerhushs. The coachman lifted a finger, gave her an exasperated smile and then whirled around with a club in hand. In quick and trained motions, he batted away the Whiskerhush and then smashed the two tails with two smacks. Instantly, the sound returned to normal but by now the Coachman was distracted with more feline pests prowling out of the bushes.

Tharia used the opportunity to look at her own legs. The man was correct. They didn’t look the way they should. They hadn’t in years but without the spark to bridge the spine, they rested in odd angles. That was her little secret too. She reached down with her hands and set them back the way they should be. Right direction too. It looked extremely painful but she didn’t even grunt. This wasn’t some form of stupid bravado, there was just no more feeling left in them. No more and not yet.

Once she had set them right again, she send her mind inside of her belly. The divine spark was abuzz, a fluttering tiny flame that whizzed about. It was in distress, her body was in such disarray that it didn’t know where to start and there was still the looming presence. Using her conscious mind, she guided the spark back towards her spine and then altered the shape into a sphere. Immediately, agonizing pain shot through her body. Her muscles spasmed and she hit her head against the bench, as her body contracted from pain. The feeling was back. Oh, bloody abyss was it back. Damn you, brother. Damn you straight to the halls of the abyss.

Tharia hated the pain but welcomed it back. A goddess she had come to call friend had given her the spark years ago after her brother had broken her spine by ‘accident’. But she quickly realized it not only helped her back but allowed her to heal any damage inside and out within reason. Yet the more she used it, the weaker it got until lately it was little more than a flicker. Her family didn’t care, they made her use it at every opportunity. Dear sister, my skin is bruised, my suitor can’t see me this way. Dear daughter, be useful please and cure my cough. That was it, her trick, her saving grace. She stubbornly bit her own lip in an attempt to dull the pain with another source of it. Without warning, something landed next to her with a wet thud and brought her mind back to the battle. It was the dead body of a whiskerhush.

“Sorry ‘bout that”, the other woman said with a smirk, “Girl if you can, setup the barrier. You bragged about that, so get to it”

Right, the barrier. Quickly nodding, she took two wobbly steps towards what remained of the back of the carriage. Luckily, the box was still there. Grabbing it with both hands, she stumbled out of the carriage and took a quick glance of her surroundings.

The leader held the massive weapon with two hands. Her swings had little finesse but given the size of the implement, she didn’t need it. Just sheer overwhelming force. And she swung with abandon, sending feline monsters flying. Most landed on the ground but occasionally, one of them smacked into a tree with a satisfying crunch. The rifleman didn’t fare too well though. His rifle was ill-suited to close combat and he struggled to shoot the quick beasts. Several of them had circled them and the lack of sounds meant they were attacking him. During this, they were stationary but the man was already bleeding from most of his orifices.

It was a weird thing to watch happen. The tails weren’t just vibrating, they seemed to phase in and out of existence in weird circular patterns. Visible shockwaves echoed from them towards the rifleman. Shaking her head, she tried to run, but her legs wouldn’t support it. Falling flat on her face, she cursed. The spark had given in. It too weak to heal all the damage and maintain the connection at the same time. So instead she crawled forward, dragging her lower half behind her. At least this meant the pain was gone again.

She didn’t need a lot of room, just enough to form a circle. She reached into the box and pulled out an eight-armed candelabra. Every part of it was covered in signs that hurt to look at and constantly slid out of view. Instead of candles though, this one sported chains attached to the arms. Tharia rammed the candelabra into the ground and then went about stretching each of the chains as taut as she could. A subtle hum started to echo.

Once she had done that, she pulled out eight actual candles and then placed them at the end of the chains. A hefty sweat had formed on her forehead. With the adrenaline ebbing, she came close to her limit. It was a freaky sensation to feel the body shut down and then be kicked back into gear by a foreign little flame doing its best - but without rest, it would be a losing proposition.

One by one, she placed the candles at the end of the chains until suddenly all eight of them burst into blue flames. The figure of a faceless woman in ceremonial robes shimmered in the air.

"Holy Bethany, protective patron of the barrier", she said as if introducing someone. With that, a blueish dome sprung up around Tharia and not a moment too soon. Another Whiskerhush had sneaked past her companions. It stared at her and seconds later, she saw the tell-tale flicker of the tails but this time, the Whiskerhush crumpled and shrieked in pain instead.

She was safe. The barrier was up. All she had to do was invite her companions into the circle. A simple phrase would be all it took. The barrier was smart in a primitive way. But she hesitated and slumped onto the ground. The young woman curled into a fetal position.

Just say the words. Speak them, help them and let them in. Why aren’t you helping them? They’re dying! Her mind knew this all too well. She tried to get up and speak, but she couldn’t. This wasn’t her first barrier. As a child, she had used them to get away from her abusive family. No one could harm her unless she invited them in. Like her brother. With words of honey and the face of saints, he proved very convincing. And once he was in, he unloaded all his rage on her. That was the day she lost her ability to walk. Just an accident, as her father called it. Brood of demonic beasts, she growled with sudden anger. I will skin you alive, force-heal your rotten carcass and keep you dying for years, you little shit of a brother.

Tharia punched the ground. Using the rage as fuel, she fought through her fear while part of her was scared of her own thoughts. She blinked. Mere seconds had passed. The rifleman was already dead. Something sharp had broken his skull in many places, she registered with a bit of confusion. She also saw a shadow disappear into the ground. The whiskerhushs held their feast shortly after. The rifleman quickly disappeared in a flurry of tails and viscera.

She heard a sudden noise. The coachman looked at her from outside the barrier. When had he got there? Not important. Shivering and shuddering, she raised her voice: “Holy Bethany, these are my guests. Let humans in”

The robed figure swayed back and forth and the barrier changed color for a second. From outside, she could hear the wail of the coachman.

“Come on lass, let me in. Save me”

He kept swinging his fists against the barrier. Tharia furrowed her eyebrows. This should have worked. Raising her voice once again, she said: “Holy Bethany, I implore you, let humans in!”

Nothing changed. The barrier just would not budge for the coachman. He looked utterly dejected.

“Let me in, I don’t want to die!” he screamed at her.

“It won’t work, something is wrong”, she screamed back.

Suddenly there was a strange tugging sensation in her chest. Something was pulling on her divine spark with such strength, that she felt like her body might be dragged across the ground. The coachman looked at her with a weird expression on his face.

“Tsk, those legs”, the man suddenly sighed, “They look good, tasty too. But right now I really hate them. Alright if you can’t walk here, then crawl. Come here”

Confused, Tharia stared at him and found herself looking at yellow eyes and a maw with sharp teeth. The creature still somewhat resembled the coachman, it certainly wore its clothes but the beast was anything but human.

“You know, woman. That little thing in your chest is a true delicacy. But you shouldn’t flounce it so openly”, he said and grinned. She felt another tug at the spark but weirdly, it felt like it came from two directions at the same time. Tharia looked past the man and saw the giantess approaching. A wide ring of feline monsters lay defeated and she was visibly exhausted. The large warrior-woman was drenched in greenish blood and had murder upon her eyes. Holding the axe high above her head, she leaned in for a sneak attack on the coachman.

“Right, forgot about you”, the man suddenly said and rolled his shoulders. A black spike suddenly sprouted from his back and grew into a long needle that directly pierced the woman’s skull. Out of sheer stubbornness, the large warrior took another two steps before she finally fell down. Tharia watched on in shock. Not in silence though.

“Why? I mean, you’re a monster, yes you are. But she didn’t do anything to you and is everyone like you in the capital? How did you get here? How long have you been this way? You’re a shapeshifter, I heard about those, read about them. Sometimes I called my brother one of them. No man can be that evil”

“Ah, you sure love talking and you do so with a sweet voice too. But I recognize that scent. It’s him, isn’t it? He’s the one that made you this way? That seems like his handiwork. Sadistic bastard. Not a man, you're right about that but something worse”, he remarked and sat down with crossed legs.

“My brother?” she stuttered.

“Brother!?!” the man said and shuddered with a perverse look of pleasure on his face, “Now I absolutely have to eat you. I insist. Girl, crawl out of there. I’m hungry. I demand it. Let me feast! Out, now!”

The tug on her spark intensified and she found herself crawling along the floor, despite not wanting to. The lure was too strong and her fingers had almost reached the barrier. In a flurry of irony, she was thankful for her broken body even if it bought but a few seconds.

“Tsk, there’s always someone higher up on the food chain. Something about your flesh is simply fascinating. I must bite it, eat it and...”

It was here! The flicker inside of her chest bounced erratically. It was the thing that had made the radiance nervous all evening. A sudden shadow encroached upon the man, confusion started to show on his face but it simply disappeared in a splotch of goo before he could do anything. His body lost all cohesion and crumpled onto the floor in a disgusting shower of black slimy liquid. From her vantage point so close to rock bottom, Tharia only saw a leather boot coming into view. It mercilessly crunched down on a lump of black ooze. A squeal came out of the slimy substance.

“Your Highness, most divine, queen of the eternal. You’re back!” it blathered.

Tharia saw the boot apply more pressure, but the lump of ooze simply dripped into the ground and disappeared. As if on cue, the fog suddenly cleared along with it. Tired and beaten but behind the barrier, the girl looked up. A lone figure stood in front of the dome. It was a woman with an almost sickly pale complexion. Her delicate face was framed by silvery blonde hair with obscene length. She was dressed in elegant garb: Simple trousers that blended into a white and expensive looking blouse, topped by a vest with floral patterns at the cuffs. The stranger held a simple scythe, not one of the fancy show toys of her brother but an actual farming implement with a dented handle and too many notches in the blade. Tharia gulped and looked back up at the face of the woman. Beautiful eyes stared back at her, but they lacked all emotion.

“You have got something of mine”, the Godqueen said with flat intonation.

The flame within Tharias chest suddenly flickered in fear. That was, however, much in contrast to her own feelings.

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End: Creatures in the Fog | Coming up: Unlikely Allies