Holding his hand over the cracked and dry barren earth, Ezekiel recanted a few choice arcane words of power, his fingers twirling in a well-practiced manner in rhythm with his incantation. Soon, the earth began reforming to his will, rising up ten feet. It molded into a geometric pattern, shaping into long rectangles two foot thick in the middle. Two small holes formed on opposite sides while in front of Zeke a longer hole formed, filled with more dirt into a rudimentary door.
Eventually the spell completed, and before Ezekiel stood an earthen cottage with a sloped roof, windows, a single door, and a chimney. Opening the door revealed a table with 4 chairs that were being neatly arranged by the invisible hands of an unseen servant, who then busied themselves with cleaning the floor. Four sets of bunk beds, complete with pillows, sheets, and duvets rested cleanly against opposing walls.
The serenity of the scene was broken by Vashel's walking stick thumping heavily on the ground, announcing his arrival.
“I’m surprised you came with the caravan this deep into the frontline,” Zeke commented without turning around.
“The chance to retake Holdwell can’t be ignored. We need all hands on deck. Besides, Elisa and Rowan came as well. How would it look if only one member, the founding member, of the Eldritch Scions stayed behind?”
“Everyone would understand Vash,” Zeke sighed as he turned around.
Vash stood leaning on his walking stick as his unseeing gaze wandered around the wasteland, his face partially obscured by a thick bandage, stained darkly around his eyes. The older elf ran a calloused hand through his short blonde hair before patting down his uniform, knowing it was covered in dirt despite not seeing its condition.
“Have the healers taken another look?” Ezekiel asked as he cast a cleansing spell on his friend.
“They have, and they still can’t make any sense of it. If I had just lost my eyes, it would have been one thing that magic might have been able to fix, but whatever substance continues to leak from the holes left...it’s not of this world.”
“Vash.”
“Zeke, I know I’m a liability, but I’m here to help with minor spellcasting to support from the rear. I might not be any use on the battlefield anymore, but we still need food, water, and protection from the elements in this cursed land. I might not be good for much, but I can still do that.”
“You’re right, I didn’t mean…”
Vashel sighed heavily and hobbled into the cottage, reaching out with wandering hands to find the nearest bed.
“I know, friend, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just...I don’t want to die a useless old man. I want to contribute, even to the end.”
Taking a seat on the bed across from Vash, Zeke took out his bag and began unpacking his grimoire, readying it for the next morning’s preparations.
“We’re getting more wounded every day. I’ve been asked to conjure more of these dwellings to help those who need something other than rocks to sleep on.”
“It’s not a bad idea. Elisa and Rowan are due back soon, but we’ll still have four more beds available here.”
“Yeah, we’ll probably have a few guests tonight.”
“Were you two talking about us again?” A soft voice interrupted at the open door.
Vash and Zeke stood to address the human couple at the entrance, both wearing well-worn uniforms adorned with various scrolls, potion vials, and other supplies common for experienced spellcasters.
“Sorry, we were just getting the cottage prepared.”
“And we appreciate it, Zeke,” Rowan grunted as he flopped onto another bed, still in his dirty clothing. Zeke withheld comment, knowing that making a scene with his human colleague was unnecessary at this time. He just didn’t appreciate a fellow magic user not bothering to clean themselves of the daily muck through a simple cleansing spell before getting into a bed he conjured.
“Ro, you’re freaking poor Zeke out again,” Elisa teased as she put her backpack down on her bed above Rowan before cleaning herself swiftly and magically.
“Yeah, yeah, if he can’t take a little dirt, then how the heck is he going to fight an army of demonic undead.”
“No bother, really, it’s… no bother,” Zeke said through gritted teeth.
“Fiiine,” Rowan moaned as he stood up on stiff legs. “Elisa, would you be a dear?”
Turning her attention to her husband, she recast the same spell and quickly cleaned him as well, including the bed he was just lying on. As soon as she finished, Rowan slumped back down and closed his eyes, sighing heavily.
“Did you two take care of your errand?” Vash asked as he gingerly touched the bandage on his face.
“We did. It took a few castings, but he’s safe with a family friend. They can’t watch him forever, but we left instructions in case…”
The words hung heavy in the air as everyone thought what no one dared to speak.
“Regardless, since neither Rowan nor I have any living family, we have a limited pool of friends we consider close enough to entrust with that responsibility,” Elisa explained.
The room was once again filled with an awkward silence, soon broken by a soft knock at the door. Zeke stood and opened the sturdy hatch, revealing several tired looking crusaders in battered armor carrying gurneys of wounded soldiers.
“Excuse me, sir, but the watch commander said we could put some wounded in this building. Would that be okay?”
“Of course, please, come in,” Zeke answered as he held the door open.
Soon the other beds were filled with severely wounded soldiers. Most were completely unconscious, their injuries serious enough to warrant the use of a simple sleep spell to relieve them of pain. As the soldiers were leaving with their gurneys, one turned to address Zeke before closing the door.
“These were wounded enough to need magical healing, but not so badly as to need immediate attention. The clerics said they’ll prepare the necessary spells to get them back on their feet in the morning, though they mentioned there was something you might be able to do to help them, Colonel Graystone?”
“Oh, yes, well I spent a full day on the battlefield. As such I’m not able to call on the angelic host anymore currently, but I should be able to assist in the morning as well.”
It was a slight lie, as Zeke always kept one or two summons in reserve for the evening, just in case trouble was encountered during his watch, but that was a bit of nuance he didn’t want to explain to the soldier.
Loud manic moaning erupted from one of the bunks in the back of the cottage as the body on the bed began violently tossing and turning.
“What happened to them?” Vash asked.
“She was found in a pile of bodies from a scouting team, the only survivor. We’re pretty sure they were attacked by another scouting group from the enemy."
“Poor thing. It’s okay, you’re safe now,” Elisa said in a soft comforting voice as she knelt near the woman’s bed with a damp cloth, resting it on her head.
Zeke was busy mucking with his gear and wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation, but he did take notice when Vashel started slowly rising from his bed.
“You said she was the only survivor?” Vash asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“Because if undead demons are going to bother killing every member of a scouting party, why would they leave one alive rather than take them back to torture?”
Just as Vash uttered the question the woman’s eyes on the bed snapped open revealing yellow irises. Her mouth opened to rows of spiked jagged teeth as she lunged at Elisa, ripping the woman’s throat cleanly open.
“Elisa!” Rowan cried out, leaping off his bed as his wife clawed at her profusely bleeding neck, her face paling as the blood quickly drained from her. The woman leapt from her bed and flicked her wrists, revealing monstrous claws rather than fingers on her hands. She leapt at Rowan just as he was starting to rise from his bed, viciously tearing him to bloody ribbons.
“Bloody hell!” Zeke yelled. It was all happening too fast. He hadn’t reacted fast enough, and he should have seen this coming. Only Vash did, despite his lack of sight.
Zeke forced himself to concentrate on channeling the last of his arcane power, ignoring Rowan’s disturbing screams that soon went eerily quiet just as Ezekiel finished his incantation.
The creature, whatever it was, turned to Zeke and Vash as the crusader fled the building just as the room began glowing softly. The creature leapt again, this time at the elves, but was blocked by the sudden appearance of a winged entity wielding a flaming sword.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Unholy servant of the abyss, prepare for the judgment of the Celestial Host,” The angel announced in a deep, reverberating voice.
“No! You need to save them! They’re dying!” Zeke screamed. But it was too late. The angel began swinging wildly in the small, cramped room, engaging the unholy creature.
The demon lunged forward, crashing its shoulder into the angel’s chest, pushing both of them out the front door of the dwelling. Shouting was heard outside as crusaders started swarming to the conflict, but Zeke wasn’t concerned with that. He knew the angel was likely powerful enough to handle whatever that creature was, and he was more concerned about his friends.
Running and dropping to his knees, he saw that Rowan lay lifeless in his bed, his body torn to pieces, his entrails draped over the side of the bed. Elisa was on the ground, her face devoid of any color, her entire chest covered in blood. She choked as her eyes locked with Zeke.
“Elisa, I’m sorry, I’m out of summons. I’ll get a healer!”
Her hand reached out with a strength he wasn’t expecting as she held his forearm firmly.
“Guild…”
“What, what do you need?”
“Our son…save him. Save Guild…” she painfully rasped through a spurting throat. Then her eyes went wide and rolled back as her grip fell away from Zeke’s arm.
**********
Ezekiel woke in a cold sweat, stifling a scream as the nightmare lingered fresh in his mind. It took a moment for him to remember where and when he was, 127 years after The Fall and in Greencoast rather than on the battlefield.
His breathing was rapid and ragged, his clothing disheveled as Onyx sat at attention at the side of the bed, looking on with concern.
"It's okay, it was just a nightmare..."
Onyx yawned at him and padded to the door.
"Give me a moment to tidy myself up, then we can go down for dinner."
Running his finger through his hair, Ezekiel cast a cleansing spell on his jacket, soon looking good as new before walking down to the tavern's common room.
He found his shoes on the shelf where he had left them, looking well-polished and buffed, the candlelight reflecting in the leather. The atmosphere was light and lively as several sailors and dockhands were already full into revelry after a hard day's work.
Davis appeared out of nowhere, bouncy and full of excitement.
"Mr. Graystone, sir. The Sheriff had a conversation with me and told me to not talk about all the stuff you did in the woods. I just wanted to say, sir, your secret is safe with me."
Ezekiel nodded, smiling at the boy's enthusiasm.
"Davis... DAVIS!"
The boy was pulled away from their conversation by Drez calling him over, wanting to show off something he bought recently, likely using the coin Ezekiel had given them.
"They're both excited. Apparently, you gave them a job to do?" Ella placed a hot mug in front of Ezekiel. Peering down, he saw a dipper bobbing in it with tea leaves. "I asked around and found one of the ships had some. Figured I should keep a bit here in case other travelers ask for it." Ella explained.
"Thank you. It's appreciated. And yes, I gave them a minor task to help me with."
"Something about looking for another moon elf?" Ella asked.
"My brother. His name is Zeldren."
"Ahh, I see. Makes sense. Sailor, was he?"
"In another life, yes. I figured he might be serving aboard a vessel, so checking at an active port town seemed the most sensible way to find some information."
"How long ago since you last saw him?”
"About a hundred-and-twenty-seven years, give or take."
Ella blinked wildly, unable to process the length of time Ezekiel just dropped on her. "I'm sorry, sir, did you say it's been over a hundred years since you've seen your brother?"
"I know, it seems like a lifetime ago."
"And then some. Well, I’ll tell you what, Davis showed me the parchment. So I'll help out and ask around, free of charge. Now you enjoy your tea, sir, and I'll bring you some supper. We're serving grilled salmon and potatoes this evening, all thanks to the wood you filled up earlier this morning. Would Onyx be okay with fresh salmon, or does she want hers grilled as well?"
"Fresh will be perfectly fine for her, thank you." Ezekiel said with a smile while sipping his tea.
"I'll have a platter for her near the hearth again."
Ella walked off, tending to their meal and other patrons. The atmosphere of the tavern was light and pleasant. Someone brought out a lute and began playing. Ezekiel leaned back in his chair, nursing his tea while eating his meal, finding it all very easing to his soul. It was the exact thing he needed to chase away the memories of his nightmare from his earlier nap.
Night fell heavily over Greencoast as the evening wore on. The tavern started to thin out when the music ended. Dockhands and sailors slowly poured out, their work resuming at the rise of the sun. Ezekiel felt a little restless, having slept longer than he had intended, and just as he was about to rise from his table the sheriff sat down across from him.
"Evening, Mr. Graystone."
"Evening, Sheriff. Is there something I can do for you?"
"I was just about to do my nightly rounds on the outskirts of the village. I was hoping you'd come with me. We've had a few alarming reports recently of activities just outside our borders, and I wouldn't mind a tenured eye with me."
"Where's your deputy?"
"Ordel? He's watching things down at the docks. Besides, I'm pretty sure he's on Greg's payroll, so I keep him at arm’s distance on some things."
Shocked at the sheriff's admission, Ezekiel looked at Onyx who was already rising from her warm spot in front of the fire.
"Actually, would it be alright if Onyx stayed here?" the Sheriff asked.
Ezekiel raised a quizzical brow at the request.
"I just think it'd be prudent to have someone here watching the tavern, specifically Ella and Davis. I even asked if Drez could bunk here with Davis for the evening rather than his shack."
"Expecting trouble, Sheriff?"
"Not sure, just got a weird feeling in my gut. Let's take a walk."
Rising from his chair, Ezekiel leaned down and whispered into Onyx's ear. The cat yawned, then nodded, resuming her resting position near the fire but her eyes were open, watching Ella and the boys.
"She seems to understand you well. What did you say to her?" the sheriff asked as they exited the tavern.
"Just to watch over the place and what to do if I don't return."
"I imagine finding and dealing with me would be first on the agenda," the sheriff said, broaching the topic they were dancing around.
Ezekiel followed him up the road, matching his pace, the air slightly awkward between them.
"You've been more than fair with me, Sheriff, so I have no reason not to trust you. Regardless, I've lived long enough to see the worst of people who always give you a smile and a helping hand when it's convenient to their larger plans."
"That's fair, and frankly I wouldn't expect anything less from you."
The sheriff paused and attempted to light a torch he pulled from a satchel at his side, but the tinder wasn't catching, causing it to spark without much else.
"Don't suppose you have a fancy spell to help with this situation? Something to light the torch?"
Raising another eyebrow at the request, remembering what the sheriff had told him earlier about not casting spells within the town, Ezekiel explained, "Unfortunately, invocation was always a weakness of mine during my studies, so I can't be as much help with that as a battlemage might be, but I can provide a simple light spell instead, though that could raise some concerns you mentioned we were trying to avoid."
"We're far enough in the outskirts that people won't notice. At worst they'll think we have a lantern, and you can dismiss it if need be, right?"
"Correct, sir."
"Works for me. Would you kindly?" Bron asked.
Whispering the incantation while waving his hands, Ezekiel focused his concentration on the tip of the torch. Suddenly, a light emerged at the tip, glowing brightly without the normal dull flickering of fire.
Holding the torch up to maintain appearances, Bron proceeded with his walk, Ezekiel still at his side, as they continued further outside the village.
"You don't even need this to see this late at night, do you?" Bron asked.
"No, my people have always favored the night and as such we have excellent vision in darkness, beyond the need of torches or lanterns."
"Interesting. What else were your people known for, if you don't mind telling me?" the sheriff asked as he cautiously walked through the woods.
"Well, we were known for magic, as you probably already knew, but we were also considered the archivists of Terrial."
"Archivists?"
"Yes. The history of Terrial was vast and detailed. The moon elves of the Forgotten Isles spent their long lives gathering information on events around the world, recording them in ancient tomes that go back tens of thousands of years."
"Odd, all of our history books barely go back less than a hundred years."
"Funny, that," Ezekiel replied sardonically.
The two continued to walk for a few more moments before Ezekiel stopped, his gaze wandering wildly.
"Sheriff, why are we out here?"
"I told you. I have a weird feeling in my gut. Why? Do you hear something?"
"Would you be opposed to me using more magic?" Ezekiel asked.
"Of course not, we're far enough into the woods, no one will notice a thing."
"Good, because we've been surrounded, and we're about to be attacked." Ezekiel revealed as he began waving his hands. His words turned to arcane rhetoric as a runic circle appeared on the ground.
Bron drew his sword and waved the torch around, looking wildly at the dancing shadows of the trees.
"What is it? What has us surrounded?"
"Undead, lots of them. More than we can handle together."
Three wolves emerged from the summoning circle, each with bright yellow fur and sharp blue eyes. Each was as large as Ezekiel and Bron, with tensed muscles and razor-sharp fangs. Bron watched in awe as the otherworldly animals emerged, flinching as he saw electricity dancing within their snarled maws.
"By the old gods, are those hellhounds?!" Bron asked loudly, his sword shaking in his hand.
"Don't be ridiculous, they're spark paws from the Plane of Air," Ezekiel explained.
Sniffing the air, the dogs quickly darted out of the summoning circle, their feet never touching the ground as they zoomed around in the darkness. Loud growling was accompanied by the sound of rending, tearing, and lightning as fierce fighting erupted through the darkness, illuminated in brief spurts by the electricity in the maws of the wolves.
"They fly?!"
"They can run on air, and they see in the dark about as well as I...watch out, Sheriff!" Ezekiel screamed as he conjured a shield and readied it, blocking the jagged biting teeth of a zombie that burst forth from the bushes, lunging towards Bron with unnatural ferocity.
Ezekiel's shield was wooden, splintering under the bite from the undead as he held it in shaky hands, barely holding the creature back. Regaining his composure, the sheriff pierced the creature's skull with his longsword, forcing it to go limp as the summoner shrugged it off his shield.
"You're unarmed," Bron commented.
"Only when I choose to be," Ezekiel replied as he incanted a quick spell followed by a wave of his hand. Suddenly, a rapier appeared in his right hand, glistening in the light from the torch.
The sheriff and Ezekiel stood back-to-back, taking a defensive position as the undead lunged at them. The attack lacked finesse or strategy, and the two trained soldiers were able to dispatch them as they were assaulted, one at a time. Deeper in the woods, the spark paws continued their offensive, zipping around through the air as they worked together as a pack, ripping the undead apart. Soon the battle was over, leaving Bron and Ezekiel breathing heavily, surrounded by the dismembered corpses of the undead.
Pulling his sword from the skull of the last of the zombies, one that happened to bite down on the sleeve of Ezekiel's sword arm, Bron was surprised to see the fabric was undamaged, leaving the summoner unharmed.
"You’re lucky he didn't bite through your jacket," Bron commented as he sheathed his sword.
"Magical vestments. Lasts throughout the day and causes my clothing to react as if it were armor when struck violently," Ezekiel explained as he hit his own arm with his rapier. Bron saw the fabric harden upon impact, reacting more like metal than clothing, then return to normal once the rapier bounced off.
"Is this what your gut was telling you was going to happen?"
"Something like this. Once Davis explained what happened in the woods, it raised my concern."
"Concern over what?"
"That the Inquisition is on the move and headed to Greencoast."