It had been two nights since their battle with the fey, and now the group sat atop a hill that overlooked a massive valley. Darian marveled at the sight, at the roaring river in the distance, its surface split by streams of starlight. And even further, nothing but a dot upon the horizon, rose a mighty city. Its white spires stabbed at the night sky as plumes of smoke rose from countless fires within. And the forest that dominated the mountains trailed away, replaced by endless fields of green. Roads split this emerald sea like a great web, and Darian spotted the hunched shapes of inns and taverns along the way.

But there was one problem.

“Could be the fey again,” Jorg said, nodding at the desolate fortress down the hill.

Darian had smelled the place before he saw it. Rot, blood, and battle. A smell that was so strong, even Jorg and the boys had caught wind of it. But the fortress lay dormant, its wooden gates sealed, its walls and battlements devoid of life. Darian could see into the central courtyard, but no bodies lay upon the ground. But the smell was unmistakable.

“What we plannin’ to do?” Isaac asked, shuffling in beside Jorg. “Go round?”

“That would be a sensible choice,” Darian said, squinting at the horizon. “If the sun weren’t so close to rising.”

“You want to take shelter in there?” Krast stabbed his finger at the lonely fort. “Who knows what’s hiding behind those walls.”

“Chicken?” Isaac mumbled, lightly punching Krast on the arm.

“Never,” the boy spat back, frowning. “Just cautious.”

“Doesn’t appear we have much choice in the matter,” Jorg said. “That last cave is too far behind us, and the buildings ahead are probably too far away. It’s this, or we try our luck out in the forest.”

“I will scout it out.” Darian sniffed. “Dawn is still a few hours away.”

“Keep an eye out for the fey,” Jorge said. “And be mindful of their tricks.”

“I’ll go with you,” Krast cut in, grabbing the knife he kept tucked by his waist.

Jorg laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder, his grip tight. “It’d be best if you stayed here.”

Krast started to argue, but a stern glare from Jorg silenced him.

Darian drew Sparkblade from his inventory and started down the hill. “Stay here until I return.”

Krast huffed and pulled away from Jorg. “And if you don’t? What are we supposed to do then?”

Darian paused and looked over his shoulder. “Pray.”

***

A dead wind blew down the mountain, the winter air accented by flakes of snow. The fortress gate lay ahead, the stench of blood thick behind the wooden colossus. Fria had told him that an outpost stood on the road into eastern Vizzera, but the juggernaut before him was not what he expected. It engulfed the skyline, a mountain of pointed oak and iron that stood in silent defiance of the night. But whatever the men of Lonelen feared, the high walls and thick gates had not kept it out.

Darian circled the entrance, searching for a way inside. When none appeared, he rounded the fortress, his boots silent against the frosted ground. But the back gate was shut, and there were no holes or blemishes along the walls. Feeling a little frustrated, he glared down the road. There was a building some distance away. If they all broke into a sprint, they could probably make it before the sun rose. But Krast could be an issue, especially if he was desperate to escape the sun.

“What to do, what to do.” Darian began to pace, his mind racing.

But then came the tapping.

It came from somewhere within the fortress. The sound itself was soft at first, a metallic clang that echoed in the silence. Darian figured it was something being rattled by the wind, but it became too rhythmic, too deliberate.

Someone is making that sound. Darian thought about calling out, but decided against it. Then he looked up at the wall. Too high to jump, but maybe I could climb it?

He put Sparkblade away and activated his skill [Minor Transformation], turning his nails into sharp claws. Then he gripped one of the stakes that made up the outer wall of the fortress. Pressing with his considerable strength, he was able to force his claws into the wood. Jumping up, his boots thudded against the wall as he fought to retain his balance. But once he was secure, he started his slow ascent.

Climbing was slow going. Darian’s claws, while sharp, had extreme difficulty piercing the wood. In truth, it was his high strength and dexterity that saw him inch his way upwards. If it wasn’t for the insane stat boosts his race levels had provided him, what he was doing would simply be impossible.

When he reached the top of the wall, he waited, listening. The tapping had vanished, replaced by the low drone of winter wind. Peering over the pointed stakes, Darian could see no signs of movement. Then he undid his minor transformation and vaulted over, careful to fall softly on the wooden walkway.

He drew his blade from his inventory and fell into a low crouch. The walkway ran along the entire outer wall, staircases splitting it here and there. Some went into the small courtyard below, while others led down into the bowls of stone buildings that dotted the inner perimeter. Creeping along, the tapping returned.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Still listening, Darian approached a set of stairs that led into one of the buildings. Standing there, he could tell the tapping came from within. But before he could enter, his ears filled with the sound of laughter.

“Odd looking thing,” one voice said, its pitch impossibly high.

“Flesh and blood, but it reeks of death,” came another, much deeper voice.

Darian turned, his sword at the ready. But there was no one there.

“Quiet, Lallet,” the first voice said. “It can hear you.”

“Nonsense,” the second voice huffed. “Not even that Ranger could hear us, and we were mocking him to his face.”

Darian did his best to follow the strange voices, but he couldn’t quite make out where they were coming from.

“I can hear you,” he said, circling. “What are you? What happened to this place?”

“See!” the first voice cried.

“Oh, shut it, Tellal,” the second voice said. “Before you wake the dead.”

Darian squinted, thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him at first. But hovering right above the stairs were two shapes, their forms obscured by some kind of skill. The only hint they were there was a slight strangeness to the air, a sort of shifting blotch against the stars.

“I will ask once more,” Darian said, pretending to still be searching for them. “What are you and what happened here?”

“And why should we answer you?” the high-pitched one said. “Honestly, we should probably leave before—”

Darian jumped up and snatched the small creature. It squawked and squealed, the air buzzing with magical energy. Then the obscuring aura around it disappeared, revealing a tiny woman wrapped in autumn leaves. A mop of curly, bright purple hair sat atop her head and a set of shimmering wings fluttered on her back. She beat at Darian’s hand with her small fists, the blows landing harmlessly against his skin.

“Unhand me you brute!” she screamed.

The other shape fully materialized, this one much the same, but her hair was raven black.

“Tellal!” she rammed into Darian’s face, attempting to claw at his eyes.

The sudden attack made Darian accidentally clench his fists, which nearly crushed the small woman in his hand.

As she gasped, the black haired one named Lallet stopped attacking. “No! Sister!” She flew backwards, her wings buzzing. “Please, I’ll answer your questions. Just don’t kill her.”

Darian looked down at the hunched figure in his palm. “Oh,” he said, releasing some of the pressure.

Tellal sucked in air, her leaf wrapped chest falling up and down in what looked like an exaggerated display of breathlessness.

“You nearly killed me, you, you…” she stared into Darian’s eyes. “You…whatever you are!”

“Well, you shouldn’t….” Darian couldn’t quite think of a great reason he snatched her out of the air. “Surprise people.”

“Most people can’t see or hear us,” she replied. “How could we know you’d be different?”

“It’s true!” her sister added. “Not even that handsome ranger could hear us, and he had the ears of a cat.”

“Still,” Darian said. “This fort was clearly attacked by something, and this forest is dangerous. You could have been a threat.” He looked down into the darkness at the base of the stairs. “So, will you answer my questions now?”

The sisters exchanged glances, the purple haired one taking the lead.

“We are fairies.”

“Obviously,” Lallet whispered.

“And this fort was attacked by some scary necromancers.”

“Necromancers?” Darian asked. He was rather tired of undead.

“Yeah. Oh, and some dwarves.”

“Yup. Lots of the little bearded bigots,” Lallet said.

“Necromancers and…dwarves?” That wasn’t exactly a combination Darian had envisioned.

“They looked like mercenaries of some kind,” Lallet said. “They dug a tunnel under the fort. The bone boys come up from it and murdered all the pretty men.’

“Including the ranger.” Tellal shoulders sunk.

Darian slowly let the fairy out of his grip. She flew up to join her sister, the pair exchanging another set of glances.

“Thank you,” he said, bowing his head. “And I apologize for snatching you out of the air. You can’t be too careful around here.” Especially after that last fey tried to kill me. Then he nodded at the stairs. “But I have something I need to check out. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Wait, that’s it?” Tellal said. “You’re not going to make a wish?”

“Or try and stuff us in a jar?” Lallet added.

Darian was both amused and horrified at what they said. “Why would I do those things?”

“He must have never heard of fairies,” Lallet said to her sister. “That or we’ve finally found a proper gentleman.”

Tellal looked Darian up and down. “A real gentleman wouldn’t pluck a lady from the sky. But…” She gave him an odd expression. “Since you are a little easy on the eyes, I’ll let you know something.” She pointed down the stairs. “That there is the fort’s prison.”

Lallet smiled. “And it’s where he is.”

Tellal slapped her sister on the arm. “Don’t jump ahead of me, Lallet! I was getting there.” She cleared her throat. “As I was saying, those stairs lead into the prison. There’s a man down there, the only survivor of the attack. But he’s dangerous.”

“And very handsome,” Lallet cut in.

“But dangerous. We’ve been visiting him every day, and every day he makes the same wish.”

“To be free?” Darian asked.

“No. Nothing so simple,” Tellal said. “He keeps wishing for someone to die.”

Lallet laughed. “Yeah, some poor guy named Oliver. Oliver Swink.”

Darian’s face must have grown grim, for the fairies both fluttered back from him.

“Was this Oliver person at the fort?” The fairies stared at him. “Well?”

“He was part of the attack,” Tellal answered. “He’s the one who killed the ranger. And most of the guards, come to think of it.”

“But he let the man below live. Told him he could rot like the traitor he was.”

“They knew each other?” Darian made for the stairs. “I think I need to have a conversation with this man.”

“Wait!” Lallet cried as Darian stepped into the darkness. “The undead. They never left.”