Many, many hours later, Krosa walked away from the garden with her mind buzzing and her stomach rumbling. She had learned much from her conversation with the baroness, not the least of which was how far gone the powerful mage was. The act of trying to counter the dark magic brought to the castle by her husband had forced the powerful green mage to integrate her own power with that of the curse, and she had been forced into plant-form along with many of her retainers and servants.
The garden was filled with former residents of the castle, magical plants that grew and bloomed and tried to remember their lives as humans. The Baroness still held onto much of her humanity, but as the curse advanced in power so did she lose control over her memories and will. The tiny flower that had grown out of the dead mutant panther that Krosa had plucked and carried had been a seed of hope. The baroness had planted many such, sending tendrils of her will outside of the curse barrier that she herself had put into place. Many had withered and died, few had sprouted, and only one had found the fertile soul of a green mage in training to nurture it.
Through that tiny bloom, the baroness had been able to track Krosa, guide her son to where she was in the hope that the seed would offer some protection from the confounding nature of the cursed land around the castle. But in the desperate flight from the battle, Krosa had come too close, and now she was also trapped.
Her firm stride had carried her to the kitchens, and through the serving door to the great dining hall, where she paused only long enough to grab a platter of bread and cheese that was waiting for her there. Almost sprinting up the stairs to the third floor, she followed the directions she had received from the matriarch of the manor, and pushed her way through a large, elaborately carved door. She nearly dropped the tray in astonishment.
More books than she had ever seen stretched out before her on massive shelves. More than she knew even existed, filling the walls and stacked on tables and laid out on special displays. The ceiling stretched upwards, encompassing another story of the manor, and it was all filled with books. Sunlight reached lazily through clear windows, illuminating the long tables and comfortable chairs that stretched down the center of the room.
She shut her mouth with a click as she realized it had been hanging open for almost a minute. Placing her tray on a nearby table, she walked slowly through the massive library, in awe at the treasure trove of knowledge that surrounded her. No treasure vault overflowing with gold and gems and the wealth of kings could compare, no matter how it might glint temptingly in torchlight. The modest bookstores of the Order would not fill even a single shelf, and she had thought them vast repositories of knowledge!
For the first time since she had begun her journey into the wide world of things beyond her little mountain village, for the first time she truly felt…small. The room before her made her shrink to insignificance as she realized that this was the personal library of a minor noble in a remote region. Dyrik had told her about the Great Leabharlann of the King in Kineksetz but she had somehow failed to grasp the enormity of it. She still couldn’t, but now she KNEW she couldn’t. New pieces snapped into place, and her view of the world expanded.
Dread mixed with excitement as her heart pounded in her chest, the blood rushing through her veins seemed to fill the room with sound. Aside from her breathing and the soft click of her shoes on the wood floors, there was utter silence. Walking to a shelf, she selected a volume at random. The weight in her hands as she carefully lifted it from its resting place was oddly reassuring. It was as if, by focusing on this one book, the incomprehensible gravity of the library was shrunk down to a manageable size.
The tension in her shoulders that she had not realized was there eased as she opened the book randomly to a page somewhere in the middle. Like many problems that seemed too large to handle, reducing it to a smaller piece made managing it easier. Almost the opposite of a puzzle really. She selected a paragraph at random, and began to read.
Би чамайг эргэдэг бөмбөрцөгөөс буулгана;
Би чамайг арслан шиг агаарт шиднэ.
Би чиний нутагт хэнийг ч амьд үлдээхгүй;
Би чиний хот, газар нутгийг чинь шатаана.
Of course. It was in a language she didn’t know and never heard of. It appeared to be some kind of poetry, but it was hard to tell. Even the letters were strange to her, unlike the familiar characters that had been her friends and companions since her earliest memories. Sighing regretfully at the fact that she did not have time to make new friends, she put the book back on the shelf and moved purposefully towards the shelf the Baroness had told her about.
Nestled in the back corner of the library was a cozy nook next to a spacious window, with a comfortable chair positioned perfectly to catch every last ray of light. A comparatively modest shelf stood next to the chair, its contents protected by glass that reminded her of the protective panes that Dyrik and Cherna kept their most precious and potent tomes behind. Carefully reading the spines that held titles, she found the one the Baroness had instructed her to read, pulled it carefully from it’s place, and settled down with a pristine copy of “Greater Magic of Garden Guardian”, the final volume from the same course Dyrik had set her on so long ago.
She began to read.
*****
The forest dripped with blood. Yashik had painted the trunks of trees, leaves and undergrowth with the gore of his enemies, yet they still came. Wave after wave they came, seemingly without end. He had fought them from the site of the original ambush, holding a running battle as he withdrew towards the keep, to safety. Rather than try to overwhelm him, they seemed content to try to wear him down by never letting him rest or even breath freely for a moment without an attack coming from somewhere.
None of the greater monsters had shown themselves, for which he was grateful. If a mountain ape appeared now or even one of the huge bears, it would likely be the end of him. He was tired, so tired. Tired of killing, tired of running, tired of living. Exhausted from fighting an endless losing battle against a curse from a war long over. He bellowed in empty rage at the sky, “DAMN YOU FATHER!”. He swung Skyrik in a glittering arc, removing the head from a boar, which had grown tusks out of the length of its spine. He was tired of that too. Of seeing innocent creatures twisted and in pain, driven to madness with the sinister purpose of the curse.
“Yelling at your dad isn’t going to get us out of this, keep moving!” His axe helpfully reminded him. Skyrik had been the only thing keeping him from a suicidal last rush into the scattered pack that trailed after him, dogging his every step. His friend, the young man who he had been unable to save. One of many.
Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
Clenching his jaw, he sprang away from the snapping canines of some kind of wild dog. Barking howls reverberated through the woods as a pack of the creatures circled him. He sprinted forward, then dug in his great toes and slid into a crouch, smashing an axe blade into one of the snarling dogs that had gotten too close. Grabbing up the freshly made corpse, he flung it spitfully at another member of the pack. The body struck with such force that the unfortunate target was smashed into a nearby tree with the sound of splintering wood and bones.
The others backed off slightly, and he used the space to sprint away once more. As he ran, he plotted his location. He had long since made his way back to familiar territory, and now knew exactly where in the forest he was. Unfortunately, he was still far from the castle. There were a few cabins and huts scattered about, but they had all long-since fallen into disuse as their occupants had either fled, or been swallowed by the curse.
The occupants of the castle who had been close to the protection of his mother’s magic suffered a terrible fate. However, those who had been further away when the curse struck had been fully taken by the dark magic, twisted into tortured beings. His father, or rather what had been left of the Baron, had killed most of them. Not out of any sense of personal responsibility or care for who they might injure, but rather from simple territorial rage. The thought of his father sent fresh energy coursing through Yashik’s limbs, driving him onward. The previous Baron had already paid for his crimes with his life, and if the God’s were real and just, Yashik hoped that his punishment continued in the afterlife.
With no other options, Yashik directed the running battle towards a cave that he knew of, high on the side of a nearby peak. A deep ravine ran nearby, and cliffs toward on all sides. It was a place where he could make a last stand, restrict the attacks on his back and sides and force his enemies to fight him face-to-face.
He hurdled a wild dog, kicking out behind himself as he came down. He felt a shock up his leg as he made contact with the creature, the satisfying crunch of bone under his heel followed by the sounds of yelping and crashing behind him. The slight pause had been too long, as another dog sank its teeth into his thigh. Yashik churned his legs, running again with the beast still attached. It didn't stay attached for long as he reached down almost casually and snapped its neck. The limp corpse dropped by the side of the trail that had slowly become more apparent as he ran.
Once, this had been a well-used hunting trail, as it led up a mountainside where game had been plentiful in the days before the Curse. The well-worn path still remained visible, despite the forest’s attempts to reclaim it. A cliff face rose out of the ground on his right as the ground began to rise under his feet. The slope to his left lengthened as he climbed, and the pack behind him was forced to follow him down the rapidly narrowing path.
He briefly considered turning and making his stand there, but he knew that would leave him vulnerable if some of the creatures came down from higher up the trail. The cave was his only option, and even then he wasn’t feeling optimistic. As the battle became a foot race, he began to pull ahead of his pursuers. Monstrous they might be but they couldn’t keep up with him now that he had a clear route with no ambushers to watch out for. Or so he hoped. He kept a wary eye out as he ran, knowing that his enemy could be around every bend, or might even hurl themselves down the cliff face at him.
Far below he could hear the rushing sound of the stream that fell down from the mountainside and into the valley below, where it would eventually join the Vaita River and journey on to the Capital. Here the stream was nameless, one more anonymous tributary out of many. The thought of trying to use the stream to escape crossed his mind, but he swiftly discarded that notion as more dangerous than the beast horde. The water was cold, fast, and filled with boulders and snags. The depth was unknown, and while the young Baron was deadly on land, in the water he was barely functional.
He would gladly throw some beasts down into the ravine though, if he got a chance. A slight grin took over his face at the thought, the frenzy of impending battle taking over once more. Getting run down in the forest like a stag before hounds had not appealed to him at all. A final stand with his back to a wall and a watery grave for his enemies? That was a proper death.
With a final leap off a fallen boulder, his feet thudded into the packed clay outside the cave. Howls that had grown somewhat distant drew closer as Yashik placed in front of the entrance, swinging Skyrik experimentally to ensure he had plenty of room to wield the broad blade with full effect. The cliff above him and to either side was sheer, and free from threats. The drop-off to the gorge and the river down below was in front of him, the cave behind. The trail extended up to his right, to the high mountain meadows where livestock had once been kept, and children had picked giant bouquets of wildflowers. To the left, it ran down to the valley below, his journey up to the cave marked in blood and corpses.
“Won’t be long now.” Skrik spoke quietly in his mind. “No matter what, we face it together, you understand? You don’t fight alone. Never again.”
“Never again”
Yashik set his feet, and the monsters arrived.
They came just from the left at first, following the scent of blood and viscera that hung heavy in the crisp mountain air. To it, they added their own stench of decay and the foul, oily taste of the curse that clung to them like tar. The narrow trail channeled them into Skyrik’s waiting blade, and the damp clay soon ran wet and red. Bodies fell into the ravine, and began to pile up at the mouth of the cave. Yashik found himself being pushed back by the sheer weight of the corpses, having to backpedal to keep his feet clear of hazards. The onslaught intensified, as the beasts coming up the mountain were joined by more coming down from the high meadows.
A sudden shift of weight in the pile of corpses caused much of it to slide into the gorge, carrying several fiends screeching into the river. Yashik found himself laughing at the slaughter, Skyrik laughing with him as ichor covered both blade and Baron.
“They can’t keep this up forever! We’ll kill every damn one of them!”
“They may be able to keep it up long enough, even if their numbers are not limitless.” Yashik panted in response. His arms burned from fatigue and multiple wounds, and his heart pounded in his chest. The blood loss alone would soon be enough to bring him down, and the tremor in his muscles meant that a lucky blow could more likely bypass his defenses. The factors of his inevitable death continued to compound, despite the desperate optimism coming from his friend.
A warped stag leapt to the top of the small hill of bodies that still clogged the trail, staring down on him with eyes filled with hate and curse madness. It bugled a challenge, but before Yashik could answer, the response came from behind him. Deep within the cave, a roar echoed, and the man knew he was doomed. From the darkness, a mass of muscle and fury rushed at him. The great cave bear slammed into him, teeth latching on to the haft of his battle axe. Feet slipped and stumbled through the sundered remains of his enemies as he was pushed back. The stag did not miss the opportunity to stab unnaturally serrated antlers into his open back, some prongs breaking on the remains of his armor while others found vulnerable flesh.
As the struggle carried the three combatants over the side of the gorge and they fell towards the rushing water below, Yashik got a good look into the eyes of the beast that was to be his ultimate doom. Brown, and furious, and completely free of the curse.
After all that, an ordinary bear. Ridiculous. That was his last thought, as with a wry grin on his torn face, locked in mortal combat between natural and unnatural enemies, he plunged into the water.