After the black settled, I found myself in the middle of a walled fort. Tattered flags fluttered to a passing wind a top of pointed parapets. Yellow sand zipped through the air. I emerged in the shadow of a gate that yawned out into the open desert, behind the fogwall, and a ring of sand-colored walls and towers on the other. It was hot here. My skin felt like blistering, even in the shade.
A man sat on the ground near the dried, wooden door: a bronze-tipped spear sat rested against his shoulder, and a round shield with a green orb in the middle of it. The man wore a tan cloak over a light purple tunic that sat under a maroon brigantine, that matched the reddish color of his hair. He pushed himself off the ground, and he towered over me. His frame was powerful: as if he were made of solid stone. A bit of reddish hair grew on his chin in a soul-patch-like tuft. A quiver of javelins sat against the wall next to him. He pushed himself off the ground and set his spear against the wall.
“Hello!” He extended his hand out toward me and covered the distance between us with a single stride.
“Hello...”I took his hand.
He gripped mine and shook it vigorously, and once he released I shook the pain radiating from my own.
“I’m Shawn. Where are you from? I’m from Reno.”
“Reno? So Nevada?”
“Yeah.”
“My name’s Lawrence and I’m from SoCal.”
“California, huh? What’s your build?”
“Mage,” I answered.
“Really? What did you do before all this?”
He was a lot more friendlier than I expected. I had prepared myself to be mocked or to be looked at as if I were some disgusting insect: like the gazes of the people in my town looked at me whenever they passed in their cars, or passed by in the store.
“I was a writer,” I answered. “Is this really the best time to be talking though?”
I glanced around. We were within the threshold of the gate leading in and out of whatever walled settlement we found ourselves in. Shade covered us from view from the outside world, but the stillness would make our voices carry.
“Neat. What level are you at? I just reached level 10.” He asked as if ignoring my concerns.
“I’m level 12,” I answered.
“Who’s your patron?”
I shrugged.
“Mine seems to be a bit wary about giving out their name.” I glanced around as I answered. Surely whatever was out there would have heard our conversation by now.
“Really? Mine’s Neit.”
“Neit?”
“Celtic god of war,” he answered, “Gave me this,” he shook his shield, and it morphed into a bracer of woven roots wrapped around his wrist, “I call it, ‘the burl,’ because it looks like one, but according to him, it’s a root of the first oak tree.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
I didn’t know how to respond, so I glanced around in an attempt to change the conversation.
“So what are we facing here?” I asked.
“Do you know what a ‘harpy,’ is?”
“Half-bird, half-woman?”
“Well, not just women, but yes. And a kind of...rabbit, I suppose.”
“Rabbit?”
“You’ll probably see.”
“So what’s the goal here?”
As soon as I asked that, the Shard flashed in my backpack: shining its light through the gaps between the zipper.
Kill all the enemies 0/45
Destroy the Temple 0/1
“We just have to kill some things, and destroy something. Easy.”
He stretched out his back grabbed his spear off the wall, and strapped his quiver to his back. He took a step forward: his foot sinking in the soft, uneven sands, and motioned me to follow him with a movement of his head.
“Haven’t scouted out the area yet, but it should be okay.” He said as we exited the shadow cast by the gated threshold.
As soon as he stepped out of the shade of the threshold, he pulled his backpack off and dug through it for a moment.
“What are you looking for?” I whispered.
“Something to make this go faster.”
“What’s that supposed to mea— what are you doing?”
He pulled a red-capped airhorn out of his bag and pressed the button at the top. I had enough time to cover my own ears. The call echoed through the still and quiet fort.
“What the hell?!”
Before another word was spoken between us there came a shadow in the sky. A harpy: armored with tawny mail, and adorned with black feathers, swooped down. It extended its claws: tipped with golden spikes at the end of its talons, and aimed it down toward Shawn’s face. Without much effort, Shawn pivoted on his heel and caught the talons with his raised shield. The harpy beat its wings to raise itself away from the man, but Shawn reached out and grabbed hold of the creature’s bird-like leg. It kicked forward, and its claws raked across his face: drawing heavy drops of blood as he swung the harpy’s body.
It crashed and sank down into the sand. Shawn stamped down hard on the creature’s head. Its legs kicked up before falling still: the golden sand turned to mud as its crushed face was buried beneath.
I-COR, I-COR
A call from the blue sky echoed through the fort.
“Why does this always happen…” he muttered.
I have made a mistake.
I pointed the staff into the sky as another harpy came into view: white wings shimmering in the sunlight like diamonds. The parts of the flesh that were visible were as black as onyx. The golden talon covers glimmered as the creature's legs pointed down as it swooped toward Shawn.
“I allow the breath of the salamanders to flow through me.”
A bolt of bright orange flame spat out from the end of my staff and collided against the harpy’s pulled-back wing. Orange flames grew quickly, and the harpy spiraled down to the ground. Golden sand scattered at the impact, and it rolled around to extinguish the orange flames. The sand extinguished it quickly, but Shawn leaped at the opportunity, stepped forward, and jammed his spear into the creature’s throat with such ferocity that it nearly decapitated the creature.
“I-COR! I-COR!”
“So?? What’s your plan?”
“Follow!” He said, as a flock of harpies formed into a multicolored cloud.
He rushed across the opening, glancing around wildly before committing to a singular direction: toward a building of the same yellowish stone that made up the fort’s walls. He shoved the door open with his shoulder and barreled in. A creature that looked like one of those rabbits you’d see in scribbles in the margins of medieval manuscripts stood within the house, and Shawn pinned it with his shield against the far wall. A harpy swooped down with its curled talons pointed at my back. The Repel held up and pushed the creature away, as I rolled into the room.
The harpies pushed in, as another hare creature rose up from a hatch in the floor.
“From the domain of Paimon, I call for you, o thou daughters of the wind, dance before me.”
A small tornado breathed to life and slammed into the foremost rank of encroaching harpies, and pushed them through the door. One was caught up in the violent floes and tossed into the wall. I cast dervish once more, and once they were out of the door. I rushed forward and slammed it shut: pushing my back against it, and sliding to the ground to use my weight as a doorstop. The harpy pushed itself up: its winged arm twisted and bent as it drew a vicious serrated dagger from its belt while the hare drew a short sword hanging off its side and approached Shawn from behind.
I only had enough time for one spell, so I shifted the direction of my staff toward the hare.
“Gnomes, servants of Gob the Magnanimous, I beseech thee to impale my enemies.”
The stone floor morphed into a spike that jutted out of the ground and pierced through the creature’s wide foot, it screeched, and the harpy was upon me with its knife as the others battered the door behind me. I raised my staff in defense and caught the blow with one of my own: battering the thin body with the blunt, wooden staff as the door bowed behind me. It stabbed forward again and kicked its taloned foot into my chest. The repel cracked like the shell of an egg. Its claws pushed in and pierced my chest, and I dropped my staff to grab hold of its leg to keep it from pushing in any further. I wrapped my arm around its knee and twisted.
The joint popped, and the harpy screeched as a talon pierced through the wall and stabbed into my back. The harpy fell to one knee as its leg bent, and I managed to pull its claws from my chest.
Shawn had pressed the first hare to death against the far wall: cracking it as he did so. It slumped to the ground: blood pouring from its ears and eyes as the large man pivoted on his heel and punched the other hare’s face with the rim of his shield. Its nose collapsed, and its head jerked back, as he swiftly drew a javelin and pushed it threw the creature’s throat. He whistled to me and tossed the bloodied short spear. I caught it and stabbed forward into the harpy’s heart.
I glanced around and toward the bodies of the two hares. They must have been heavy: they were half as wide at the haunches as Shawn was tall.
“Bring those here!” I told him.
“Why?”
“Barricade the door.”
He grabbed the crushed rabbit by its long pointed ears and tossed him toward me. I rolled out of the way just as the top of the door collapsed. He pulled another javelin from his quiver and threw it with all of his might into the first harpy that managed to slip in through the space. Feathers fell from the air, as the force of the blow pushed its body back out. He tossed the other hare on top of it, and I picked up my staff.
“Gnomes, servants of Gob the Magnanimous, I beseech thee to impale my enemies.”
A spike of earth shot forth from the ground and impaled the rabbit on the bottom to hold it in place. I cast it again, to strengthen the makeshift barricade. Catching on to what I was doing, Shawn drives his spear into the body of the top rabbit to hold it in place against the other and then strengthens that up with a pair of javelins — one on either side of the point of impact with the spear.
The makeshift wall held against the battering flock, and I cursed.
“Why did you do that?” I asked.
“It’ll be quicker this way.” He said.
“What level is this?” I asked as I took a deep, shuddering breath.
“16.” He said.