For a motley group suddenly assembling into a makeshift militia the villagers were surprisingly well organised. Of course, half of them had seen service in the free kingdom's military in one form or another, so after reflection Mar assumed that had something to do with it. The other something was the black smith, who was currently issuing orders with a volume and ferocity that would have made even a drill sergeant blush.
Most of the villagers had a look that wavered between terror and anger. The Imperials had fought and won a bloody battle against the guardsmen to occupy the town once. Most here had thought the fight already lost. Uncertainty now coloured their vision as the adrenaline from their outrage faded away. However, the fear that clung to them like the scent of smoke clinging to a battered sleeping roll was not the fear of the fight itself, but rather the fear of retribution that would surely come if they did nothing. Imperials lay dead at their feet, and their friends were coming, a storm on the horizon moving on swift winds.
The blacksmith was clearly aware of this and was creating mixed groups of terrified villagers and stoney faced fighters. Some of the village’s original guard contingent were also present, although many of them sported partially healed wounds and damaged equipment. In truth, ragtag didn’t even begin to describe this group. But they had three key advantages, numbers primarily, resolve secondly and Mar.
The blacksmith finished giving her orders and the groups scattered, moving to their positions, and getting ready for a desperate fight. The blacksmith had decided to leave the town’s gates open and its walls unmanned, choosing instead to fight a battle in the open area of the roads and fields which were immediately outside the gate. It wasn’t optimal by any stretch of the imagination, but the lack of a wall could spell doom for the town at large. So, she didn’t want to risk the imperials pulling the wall down out of spite and leaving the towns folk to be devoured.
As the last of the townsfolk peeled off to their assigned positions, Mar was left with the blacksmith and a person who Mar assumed to be the blacksmith’s wife. Judging from the very passionate embrace the two were currently sharing. He just watched. At his core Mar understood that he was probably becoming more human, at least he had no other explanation of the evolution he seemed to be undergoing, and a massive part of being human seemed to be having a partner. A friend or lover. Someone to care about, to love and hold most dear.
He was alone.
Yet as always, like a pebble sitting by the waters edge, he felt content.But he knew he was changing. His very self, his very soul, his very nature. So, he wondered if he should have felt something watching the two embrace, He almost dreaded the day that he might, and yet also had a hint of anticipation, almost excited by the thought. He was torn, like a child holding onto a mother and father as they separate. He didn’t know if he wanted to change, regardless of his power to affect such a thing.
On one hand, his life was a solitary one, if he ever started to feel jealous of those who could be together, would his contentment turn into loneliness? Would he live his life and die feeling so unbearably alone. Instead of simply… content?
On the other hand, even the pebble by the rivers edge is eventually submerged into it’s depths or taken away by the delighted hands of a child. Even a pebble changes. To fear the inevitable would be the height of foolishness, and Mar did not think himself a fool.
The two stopped, and the Blacksmith’s wife ran back into the town, with the small force that had been left to guard the rear, in case the Imperials tried to flank the townsfolk. Mar didn’t think the Imperials would have the numbers to attempt such a manoeuvre, and judging from her expression, neither did the blacksmith.
An awkward silence followed, which saw Mar and the Blacksmith simply watching one another, the distance between them that of a polite conversation, but it may as well have been an ocean. Mar was the first to speak.
“So where do you want me?” He asked. The Blacksmith’s silence continued, as if she was weighing his soul up in her mind, not that Mar thought he had one. Her teeth were clenched tightly together, the strong bones threatening to crack under the force that she was imparting. The stress of the day, of the battle ahead, of Mar’s presence itself. A million thoughts were shooting through her head, threatening to overwhelm her, but first and foremost was fear. Not of the Imperials, not even of death. But fear of Mar. Of what he might do once he killed her and tore into the town’s vulnerable underbelly. If he set fire to even one building in the compact village, there was practically nothing that could be done right now to save the town.
Make no mistake, every story, every report, every breath that mentioned the Chained said in no uncertain circumstances that Mar should have done just that. But instead he just stood passively by, waiting to receive orders from her, a simple town’s blacksmith who had spent her youth conscripted in the military. It was like placing a juicy steak in front of a starving dog, telling it to sit, and it actually waiting to be told when it could eat.
A part of her wanted to draw her hammer and try to put him down right then and there. Part of her wanted to run very, very far away. But she knew better than most how likely her town was to win against the (admittedly) small imperial force. She needed a monster on her side right now more than anything else.
“Why aren’t you trying to kill me?” She finally asked.
“Why would I?” Mar replied. Frowning. Seemingly offended by the question.
“Because you’re a monster.” The blacksmith said, she had always been blunt. Today was no time to lose that character trait.
The look he gave her was no more or less emotive than the blank face he had been wearing all afternoon. It was like staring into a pond as the wind whipped over it, only the tiniest of ripples forming on its surface, while everything deeper was so perfectly still.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“I’m not a Clay.” Was all he said.
“You’re worse.” She said. “I don’t think so.” Was his simple retort.
“How many humans have you killed?” Asked the Blacksmith
Mar just shrugged, looking briefly at the corpses of the three men he had killed previously.
“A lot I suppose. You?”
The question took her by surprise. Memories flashed through her mind. Memories of her time in the Free Kingdoms army. She too looked at a nearby corpse.
“That’s different.” As she spoke her voice wavered with emotion. She was not a woman who enjoyed what she had done.
“How?” Asked Mar.
“They were trying to kill me.” She replied, her voice regaining its confidence with the justification. “Me and my friends.”
“Then I’m not a monster.” Replied Mar. His voice and face appeared the same, but the Blacksmith felt (rather than saw or heard) something shift below, in the deep darkness of the pond.
She didn’t know what to make of that. She didn’t know what to make of the realisation that she believed him. So she put it into a box, and decided to simply move on with the day. “Come on, we’ve got a town to save.” She said, turning her back to him, and moving quickly towards the front gate.
****
Kalier stood at the front of the villager's closed and barred gate. Behind her, manning the walls, which were about twice her height, was the motley collection of guardsmen and veterans that made up the villagers' defence. Once she gave them the signal, the men would jump down and charge the incoming Clay, using swords and axes instead of ineffective arrows.
But right now, she wanted them to her back, so that she could use her lightning to her full ability, without fear of stray energy bolts striking those standing at her flanks.
For more than the first time she mulled over the nature of her magical abilities, which seemed so incompatible with keeping any she cared about by her side, and how that mirrored the inner turmoil of her own mind. Was it a product of fate? Self-fulfilled prophecy? Or was it just a coincidence? Seeing as she didn’t believe in fate, it was either the second or the third option.
Everyone she met seemed to, in one way or another, match the magic they naturally wielded. So, a coincidence couldn’t be the answer. Could it be that magic influenced the mind and actions of the person who wielded it? With different types of magic producing different types of people? She didn’t know, and while curious, the train of thought was soon wiped from her mind as the trees began to approach.
No scholar, soldier, hunter, or farmer had ever been able to explain how the trees of death forest could move the way that they do. Surging back and forth, like waves on a beach. Only instead of shallow water, tall dark pines were restlessly moving back and forth across the ground before the village. A constant force of ethereal trees that did no damage to the ground or the buildings it crossed. A fog that looked like a forest. A dark, deep cloud of dark. Moving forward, forward, forward.
The wave was slowing as it approached the village, and Kalier knew it would soon stop. Out of the wave of trees the Clay would appear. At first only a small group comprising of the smallest and weakest of their kind would appear. Their goal would be to attack and kill any humans near the forest’s wave. Once the humans were dead, the wave would surge forward once more. Constant. Uncaring. Unstoppable. Unstoppable yes, but stopping anyway, like the forest had some sick sense of courtesy.
If the humans managed to defeat the first group of Clay that appeared, more would simply replace those that had been lost. Materialising out of the ghostly forest like a ship sailing into a fog covered port. If those were killed, another group would appear, growing in number each and every time. More Clay, more powerful versions of Clay. Monsters. Killing and destroying anything in their path, everything human that they found. Leaving everything else intact.
Eventually the Clay groups would be the size of platoons, then company’s, then battalions, then regiments and finally, entire armies would appear. A vicious horde materialising from the forest, rampaging forth until met by the proper amount of human resistance. Then, as quickly as it started. It would all stop. The forest would begin to move backwards, like a tide going out to sea, and for a while the humans in that area would be safe. They would go back to their day to day lives, each generation waiting and watching for the next desperate battle of survival to begin.
Kalier, or any other hunter for that matter, would never admit it out loud: But deep down they all knew the truth. Whatever the Clay were, for whatever reason they had attacked her world, they could sweep what was left of humanity aside like an arm crashing down into a chess board. The shadows, the forest, the incursions. It was all a cruel game, and its end would mark the end of humanity.
The time for reflection was over however, as the forest suddenly slammed to a stop in front of Kalier and the village. The hunter’s experienced heart pounded in her chest, adrenal surging forth. Magic and lightning dancing over her skin, forming her blade, lighting up her eyes. She glowed, a storm all her own making right before the assembled guardsmen. Ready for the fight of her life to begin.
Out of the trees a single figure emerged. A monster unlike anything she had ever seen. Clay could come in any shape and form, but they were always grey and black when alive, and a dark brown when killed. This one looked nothing of the creatures she was familiar with.
Sickly pale skin stretched over a bipedal structure, torn sections revealing the grey mesh of a typical clay beneath, oozing fetid blood. Its right shoulder was at an odd angle, having been placed too high on the creature and twisting the entire frame of the beast as a result. It’s gait awkward and slow as it moved. It’s twisted skeleton not allowing the smooth movement one might expect from a human, or a normal Clay creature.
Instead of its weapon being melded into the beasts own body this Clay had a sword at its side. Only the weapon lacked a handle or guard and was instead simply a blade of shiny black material. The monster also lacked a holster, so had instead simply stabbed the weapon through its own thigh. Unlike it’s twisted shoulder however, the blade didn’t seem to be slowing the monster down. Something Kalier was about to learn firsthand.
The abomination pulled the blade from its flesh, causing dark, thick blood to cover its thigh and scatter onto the ground below. It’s focus locked on Kalier, giving her a good look at its face. It was missing an eye, an empty socket left behind. The other eye socket contained a glowing blue orb that looked to have been forcefully shoved inside. The oversized ‘eye’ causing the entire side of the Clay’s face to bulge outwards.
The blue light in the orb burned as it met Kalier’s eyes, and for the first time she was the one who broke first, looking to its weapon. To its oozing thigh. To its clearly broken ribs. Anything and anywhere, so long as it wasn’t that horrible, gaze. So rattled was the veteran hunter that the beast almost took her by surprise when it suddenly burst forward, moving with a grace and speed she hadn’t thought it capable of.
The beast brought its blade to bear, thrusting it forward, aiming to impale Kalier through her heart. Kalier deflected the blow with her blade, lightning flaring along its length and sending sparks shooting out in every direction as the energy from the Clay’s blade was absorbed. The Clay itself didn’t stop however, pressing the attack, sliding its weapon along Kalier’s before slamming its body into her.
As Kalier fell to the ground fetid blood sprayed out from the Clay’s twisted form, dosing her in a rotten rain. Instead of pressing its advantage and stabbing down with its sword arm, the Clay beast jumped on top of her, pressing her further into the dirty as its mouth snapped at her throat. It looked like a twisted human, but it behaved like a wild dog. Kalier slammed the pommel of her sword into the side of the monster’s head, which promptly caved in, covering her blue hunter’s jacket in brown and black ooze.
She threw the stunned monster off her and quickly rose to her feet. Her sword hummed with deadly lightning as it flew through the air. The sword emitted cracks like mini thunder booms every time she struck the creature. Lightning flowed smoothly and effortlessly from the sword and splashing against the monster’s body, tearing it apart from the inside out. Kalier’s lightning could not kill most Clay, but it was all over for this one.The lightning shot out by Kalier’s strikes burst the glowing blue orb of the creature, and it collapsed in a pile of black tar and broken bone. Instead of releasing the next small drip of an army, the trees simply receded, ending the conflict before it ever really started. Leaving only the body and one very disturbed hunter behind.