- Chapter 11 -
As sunrise peeks over the shorter hills, the light glances off the crest of a large wooden wall, revealing the wear and tear caused by time, weather, and the occasional battle. We finally make our way around the town wall with Gareth eyeing a particular open corner to enter through. He walks wearily, carrying a sleeping Elara on his back, the scene bringing back memories of my father carrying me across the grasslands in childhood days. I hear distant voices and rustling sounds of work coming from far down the inner path. The town is awake.
“Damn. I had hoped to see Gram stationed here.” Gareth clicks his tongue.
I peer around the corner to see Sola standing restlessly behind a fence. His eyes look fresher than when last we’d met.
“Is it an issue for him to spot us?” I ask.
“Not particularly. However, his elder brother is more reliable in situations like these.”
He drops Elara down gently against the wall only to shake her harshly awake, covering her mouth before she can yelp in confusion. Melo purrs inquisitively from its perch on my bag as Elara stands up tremulously. He presses a finger on her lips signalling for her to be quiet.
“Here take her hand and, run over to that alley as soon as the guard leaves his post.” Gareth says, handing me her trembling arm with his other stroking atop her head to calm her down. He makes his way to and down the formal path, nonchalantly turning to the young man who now stands in attention.
Their conversation is beyond earshot, but eventually the guard does an about-turn and make his way into town. I guide Elara across to a dirty alley and we wait in the shadows. Gareth takes a short while but eventually joins us as we proceed down the winding alleys between a mishmash of old and new buildings, before popping out from the thicket behind the guard’s outhouse. We enter through the same door as I had three days earlier. The room remains unchanged.
“There is a flight of stairs on the left after the door there. Quietly now, go up and three doors down on the right at the end of the hall is the guest room. Lock the door after you enter. Also, here. Slip this under the second door on the left.” Gareth says as he hands me an envelope with a symbol on it. He barely gives me time to acknowledge his words before leaving to follow up with the Town Elder. I fear peering back at him will rob me of the little courage I have left so I begin to move forward.
The main lobby is devoid of life. I assume most guards would be stationed around the walls during such times. The lack of any weapons on the racks that adorn the corners of the room confirm my suspicions. The large double-door that serves as the main entrance to the building remains unopened. I follow the little instructions I’d been given and make my way up the stairs. The building is old and while the wooden planks hold firm under my feet, the occasional creak slips out of the corners after every few steps.
Elara walks steadily as I guide her with one hand supporting her back. While her eyesight has yet to recover completely, she seems to be aware of the space in front of her. The sunlight peering out of the large ventilation gaps atop the left hand wall illuminate the otherwise cramped stairwell. Melo lets out a soft chirp and I shush it firmly. Though I doubt our situation borders on treason, I’d rather not find myself having to explain everything to the town guards.
We finally reach the second door on the left and I pause. The sound of objects being moved erratically resonate through the door, and after a few seconds I hear and feel the weight of footsteps being added in to the mix. I gaze uponthe plaque nailed to the wooden door and whisper out the written words.
“Captain H. Aleric”
I swallow nervously and bend down, slipping the letter under the door. The cracks on the uneven wood cause the corners of the envelope to crinkle as I push it in. By the time I stand up, the ruckus has ended and the room falls silent. We quickly continue to move to the end of the hallway and enter the guest room. I am cautious about making any sounds and manage to lock the door behind us with relative silence.
A few hours pass. Elara lies on the double bed, her eyes open yet staring aimlessly at the ceiling. Melo has taken its place on the further side of the bed. Hopefully its talons do not scuff the beddings. My mind is in shambles with the worries, and confusion of everything we’ve had and still need to face.
“Meer?” Elara’s voice pulls me back to the present.
“Yes! it’s me.” I lean in close to her ear and whisper as clearly as I can.
Her brows furrow deeply as she falls into heavy contemplation. Suddenly, my ears confirm the presence of people, and their commotion downstairs. I’d been too worried about what we were going to do next that I’d forgotten how hungry and thirsty I’d been this whole time. I reach over to the flagon on the table and pour an excessive amount of water into my mouth. Struggling to keep it all in, I swallow vigorously only to realize how flat and stale it is. Surely, it has been lying here for a few days. Elara’s voice picks up again.
“Yes... It’s... Me?” She echoes my sentence.
I almost scream out in joy but catch myself, opting to instead grab her hand and shake it vigorously in elated confirmation. She smiles the first smile of the morning.
“I think I’ll be alright.” She says. Her head turning back towards the ceiling, and her eyes looking more focused.
Another hour passes. The rumblings of feet underneath the room continue. Finally, a pair of footsteps break away from the group and grow louder before finding itself right outside our door. Four firm knocks rattle the latch. I sheepishly walk over to open it. My heart knows that I’m not in any trouble, yet my mind is dead set on throwing myself out the open window. I unlatch the door.
It opens slowly to reveal Gareth standing there. His face is serious and intense. He walks in and stands besides the bed looking down at the sleeping swordsman. Melo whimpers in acknowledgement of his presence.
“How is she?” He asks. His stare still fixed at her.
“Her hearing has improved. She was able to repeat a sentence I had spoken.” I reply while latching the door once again.
“That is reassuring. I have convened with the Elder, and had just met up with Captain who should be here soon. I have briefed them with all the information except-” He turns to me, his lips trembling for a second before he continues, “...the thing in the forest.”
“A bell?” Elara suddenly speaks. Gareth walks up to the window, his eyes shut in deep concentration.
“Is it a good idea to leave that out?” I ask. He remains silent for a moment, although he eventually opens his eyes with no apparent impact.
“I will tell them... eventually. But right now, I find difficulty in putting it to words.” He answers.
“That is fine with me. Honestly I don’t know what to make of it myself.”
The noise downstairs grows louder as another pair of footsteps slowly makes its way down the hall.
“Regardless, the remaining information we’ve gathered is enough to keep us busy for a long while.” He turns back to Elara. I take a moment to consider asking questions of a larger scope, however the nagging anxiety for immediate survival overwhelms me.
“So... what now?” I ask.
“I will lead a larger squad back into the caves tomorrow morning. Assuming that what we’d encountered in the second labyrinth is not related to the goblin invasion, we should be able to-” His sentence is cut short by a single feeble knock on the door. His confusion indicates that the knuckle does not belong to the Captain. Gareth nods and I open it.
In front of me stands the Town Elder. A wrinkled old man, probably in his late sixties. His his robe is neat and proper even if a tad bit over-sized. He stands wearily, resting his arms on a firm wooden walking stick which is well polished and has a light grain texture. Not the usual choice of wood. When last we met, his large shawl had been pulled well over his head, perhaps to protect him from the mid-day heat. Now it hangs loosely around his shoulder, revealing his aged yet lively face which now carries the weight of worry and concern.
“Elder! Come in. I wasn’t expecting you.” Gareth says in surprise.
“A call for help has arrived. Goblins are attacking the south end and the western farm. Aleric promptly left, and has asked you to join the troop facing the larger horde in the west.”
Gareth rushes out of the door, excusing himself while passing the Elder only to stop abruptly and pedal back to the door frame.
“Meer may I request you to help the southern end and have Melo keep watch over Elara.” His voice is desperate. Melo chirps loudly in agreement.
“Sure. I’ll make my way there now.” I reply, while shuffling to gather my bag and staff.
With a nod, he was gone. The Elder looks at me with a smile of gratitude as I walk out to join him in the hallway. I peer back to see Melo staring at us and after a solemn wave of my hand, I close the door behind me.
“Exit through the main door, go straight for ten buildings, and then a left at the large tree. That will take you to the south end clearing where you should be able to assess the situation yourself.”
With great haste I dash off as instructed, and in the background I notice the knelling of two bells ringing off time from each other. Their sounds tussling in my ears till eventually, the sound emanating from straight ahead overcomes the other. Hurrying past the various locations and people of the unfamiliar town, I observe the atmosphere to be tense yet lacked any sense of urgency. Perhaps they were more used to these attacks than I’d reckoned. Finally, over a low mound, I arrive at the southern end.
The town stops at a short cliff overlooking a shallow wooded valley. The cliff slopes down gently to the plain from the right, while a tall segment of the town wall envelopes the far left before receding to a thin yet firm wooden fence which guards against the open drop. I spot a handful of goblin corpses on the slope and the sound of steel clashing scatter the air at odd intervals.
“Ar you here to help?” A familiar voice greets me. I peer behind to see Sola running towards me.
“Yes, Gareth has sent me to assist you here.” I reply.
“Ha-ha you don’t need to be so formal with us.”
Sola is young. He appears to be about twenty years old although his demeanour suggests a younger age. His face now looks much fresher than when we’d first met at the town gate, even though we had spotted him at his post so early in the morn. Perhaps they’ve been alternating the morning shifts every few days. The metal pads on his uniform look identical to Elara’s although the general condition of his tunic and pants match his carefree personality being untidy, wrinkled and slightly off centre.
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“Sure. Then I’ll follow behind. Lead the way Sola.” I say.
“Great! But don’t get mad if I take care of all the Goblins myself. I am kind of a genius swordsman- Hey how do you know my name?”
“No time for that. Lets go.”
I shove him from behind and we rapidly descend down the path. The clanks of metal grow louder as the ferric scent of Goblin blood sneaks into my nose. Unlike the claustrophobic, and manic battles in the cave, the scene that emerges is stagnant. Four guards hold back about seven Goblins at the edge of the woods. Casting a glance around, I see signs of more hiding in the shrubs and a few up in the trees as well. The lack of ranged weaponry is evident, but their reluctance to chuck the medley of weapons in their hands is curious.
“Holst! I’m here!” Sola announces our arrival to both friend and foe alike. A guard peers back, his face falling to a slight disappointment on seeing us. Or hopefully, just him.
“What are you doing here?” He replies. The annoyance in his voice is apparent.
“I tried joining the Captain’s force, but Gram told me to save you guys instead so I ran here as fast as I could.” Sola seems oblivious to the implication.
“I see. Remind me to thank your brother later.” He is clearly annoyed, however the slight hint of a smile and clearness in his frow indicates a sort of endearment towards the clueless warrior. His gaze then wanders to me.
“I see you’ve bought an adventurer with you.”
“Yup. This is the lady I’d told you about yesterday.” Sola point to me. The older guard stares at me, unimpressed.
“So miss, can you fire off a spell for us. We’ve found ourselves at a bit of a stalemate.”
The description is accurate. The Goblins refuse to retreat yet it seems like the guards are unwilling to chase them into the woods. The situation makes sense. The party of monsters are probably just a distraction for the main assault while there is no reason for these men to risk their lives chasing an unknown number of enemies. I start chanting a spell.
“Alright guys. The lady is doing something, lets give her some space.” Holst commands the team. The the guards move like clockwork, aligning themselves around the trees to guide a spell through.
“Lightning Bolt!”
My Spirit sizzles and crackles at the tip of my staff, aiming through the funnel of man and foliage, it whips against the air as it spears into a hapless Goblin. The monster shrieks in agony as a residual charge arcs over the gap between it and a friend that stands too close. The howling wind carries a burnt, acrid stench as the two fall limp to the ground. A guard whistles in astonishment.
“Wheeew! A few more of those and we’ll be done in no time.” Holst exclaims.
The demeanour of our living enemies change. What once looked like a gaggle of scheming runts now exude the fervour of blood-battle.
“I can only give you about two more spells.” I confess abashedly.
“Huh, I guess that spell IS far too powerful to be flung that often.” Sola tries to reassure me. I think.
“The air has turned! There is bloodlust in the trees! All shields up!” Holst commands. The guards lift up their round light shields in anticipation. Sola does the same, although his eyes convey lesser thoughts of defence than it does impatience.
CRACK!
A guard stumbles to his knees, his arm holding the shield is still raised half-heartedly over his head. A crude dagger falls on the dirt next to him. I start a second chant.
“Fall back to me! Sola, defend the maiden!” Holst shouts vehemently. Perhaps hoping that his aggression would convince the assailants to rethink their attack.
Cackling resounds from the treetops. The unintelligible chattering of Goblins grows nearer. The decision to stop at the edge of the forest was a wise one. Their maniacal discussions are distracting, however it does give away their location.
“Lightning Bolt!”
I fire a second spell, this time up into the trees. The discharge of power illuminates the shade above, followed by a thrashing in the leaves, and branches as four charred Goblins fall between the two groups. The scenario is baffling, probably a result of godly fortune. The remaining monsters rush into battle in manic frenzy.
“The Greater spirits have blessed us! Mamon, Hallam! Cover the sides! There are more in the brush.” Holst rushes into battle paired up with the remaining guard. My gaze turns towards Sola whose eyes dart around the battle field in flustered excitement.
The fight is fierce however the guards are clearly well trained and educated in the art of battle. They use their larger stature to their advantage, parrying and dodging the reckless attacks of the pint-sized assailants. However they do not push too deep into their offence, perhaps to reduce the chance of injury. In the absence of a healer, any broken bone or major laceration would render them a liability.
The brawl has become chaotic, with the additional pair of guards having slowly slid into battle out of necessity. Naturally, I begin to scout the undergrowth for movement. The scuffling of life underneath is evident, however not once have they shown their numbers or intention. Finally a lone Goblin, perhaps out of curiosity, sticks its head out from the bushes to assess the playing field. But before I can react, a rush of wind carried by a sprinting Sola, whizzes past my face as he leaps into the thicket.
“SOLA!” I scream. Admittedly with too much vigour. Holst, out of concern, peers behind to witness the boy disappear as I had.
“Go after him traveller! The fool is unprepared!”
I comply and race after him.
The vegetation is thick yet low. I manage to identify and follow their misshapen shadows and figures, eventually coming to a sort of hollow in the woods, the existence of which is owed to a rock platform that keeps the plants at bay. The clearing is small, barely large enough to contain the stand-off between Sola and three Goblins.
“Sola! We need to get back!” I plead.
“Don’t worry Meer, I can handle these three.” He replies confidently.
Two Goblins lunge at him, their weapons finding air as Sola dodges one and sidesteps the other with ease. I’ll admit, his movements are impressive, with the last Goblin joining the barrage yet still failing to land a blow. His swift swordplay parrying even the surest of strikes from the bewildered creatures, initiates his counter-attack with his sword gracefully nudging and swaying the opponent’s crude armaments. However, the difference in numbers prevents him from finding the space to land any substantial attacks.
I sort through my options. Any offensive spell is off the table in such a cramped area. His speed and movements are formidable enough as it is, what he needs is the power to overwhelm them. I start to chant.
The fight is practically at a stalemate. The goblins are no closer to landing a hit on him as he is to keeping them staggered long enough to finish one off. The usual confidence on his face has slowly soured into frustration as the sweat dripping down his forehead threatens to aggravate his fixated eyes.
A meagre ball of Spirit coils its way up my staff before a subsequent burst of unknown power transforms it to a ball of translucent energy. With the mysteries of ambiguous magic only being a concern for the uninspired, I churn and flick my staff.
“Strength”
The spell shoots out of my staff, with the Spirit being trapped in a ball of gooey layers. The form is unnerving, and reminiscent of the same I’d observed in the battle with the spider, although the viscosity appears to have heightened since then. Regardless, it makes contact with Sola and enters his being.
The effect is as expected. The growth of his muscles cause an inflation of his already towering stature over the stunted opponents. The straps on his metal pads creak as they stretch out against his broadening frame. There is more confidence and stability in his foothold now as he twirls around an impending strike while swinging and lashing out against a prepared enemy. The sword makes contact with its dagger. An attack once narrowly defended against, now sends the Goblin flying into a tree across the battle-field.
“That’s it!” Sola cries out in excitement. He looks at me with a big smile drawn on his face.
His celebration is cut short by the shrill cry of the remaining Goblins as they jump at him from either sides. His body seems to grow larger as he successfully dodges one attack and twists his hips to swing his sword, slicing the head off the other.
The thud of the decapitated body is harsh as it scrapes along the rocky ground. Sola reaches up and pulls off a shoulder pad from his body, perhaps they’d become too tight for his ever growing silhouette. The lone survivor is terrified. Its legs tremble in fear, yet still it raises its shabby half-sword against the colossal enemy looming down from the heavens above.
The final strike is swift and true. The poor Goblin either failed or refused to react. Its head drops and rolls in a half circle around its still standing corpse. Sola takes a moment to settle his mind before turning towards me, his face stricken with joy. He lifts his hands, waving in thanks, he opens his mouth to say something when he suddenly turns motionless.
His mouth draws agape as a scream begins to swell from the silence of his lungs. Red is his face, with his eyes starting to bulge out of its sockets, and the already enhanced frame of his body growing larger by the second. I look on in horror as he lowers his arms, pushed down by the deformed swelling of his shoulder. A strap on his chest bursts open as a metal pad is shot into the foliage. His legs contort in submission to the uneven distribution of muscles mass and static joints.
“AAAAAHHH! MEEEER!!!” His scream is eldritch in nature.
I chant a Heal spell.
“STOP IT! MAKE IT STOP!”
I shut my eyes tight. My mind cannot handle what is, and I do not have the courage to wonder what will be. The darkness behind my eyelids only serve to amplify the sounds of agony. Behind his guttural scream, I hear the slow ripping of leather and cloth, or at least I can only hope it to be those and not flesh. A loud pop echoes in the trees followed by the pitter-patter of rain. The smell of blood is unmistakable. I catch myself losing track of the chant and push to complete it.
“HEAL!” I scream. “HEAL HIM!”
His squeals drown out any semblance of language in my utterance. Forcing my eyes open, I witness my Spirit drift to his deformed body. His arms float on the side of his bust, with his face frozen stiff in fear and pain. His frame appears to have ceased to expand with his muscles having torn through much of his tunic and pants. In my misguided relief I step out of the brush.
In the flicker of a moment an explosion of flesh splatters a streak of blood and organs across my chest. My mind takes a few seconds to regain its senses and when it does, my eyes stare at a headless torso of what was once a young guard. His body tilts eerily sideways and topples over. Its form as stiff as a plank of wood, surely caused by the unnatural tension in his muscles and ligaments. The new line of sight reveals the location of his head, or in this case, his skull. It had been flung off about five feet behind, before splattering its contents on the bark of a tree and falling to the ground with spine, nerves, and sinew still attached to it. At least that which was not mushed by its own velocity.
I instantly retch. My eyes hurt too much to be kept open, or maybe I only think they do. I turn and run into the forest, my body crashing into a number of trees before I can muster up the courage to open them again. The sight of gore is one that an adventurer should never become too accustomed to, especially if it is one caused by themselves.
I leave the guidance of my feet to the fortune of desperation. The stench of flesh and blood on my tunic causes me to gag and heave, adding excess fuel to my despair and confusion. In a frenzy of anguish, I flail an empty hand around my collar, hopelessly trying to peel off the contaminated cloth from my body. The thick, slimy fluid which now layers and layers itself upon my hand, numbs it to the sensation of progress. I am unsure of the outcome, however somewhere between then and now, I’ve managed to find myself out of the woods and onto a clearing. The smoke and commotion of Stren transpire atop a modest cliff. Thank the Spirits. I am safe.