Metas walked with his weapon tucked within his cloak, whilst Felkin held onto his with one hand. “There is where I’m going.” Metas said as he blocked the midday sun with one hand and pointed to a settlement with the other. The structures of a small town were up ahead.
“If you’ll still follow, that’s your choice.” Metas remarked. Felkin nodded once in agreement. Animals were finally stirring as they went closer to their destination, although it could still pass as a wasteland aside from the few dead trees they passed.
Metas had wrapped one of the chains attached to his spear around his waist, and the skull of the lycanthrope as well as some of its hide dangled from it. As beads of sweat dripped from their faces, they approached the town, and the faint sound of commotion was heard. The sun shone high, as the two entered the town, the commotion was deafening now. A few noticed the presence of the two strangers, but most paid them no heed and were enthralled in their zealous rage.
Various streets and alleyways faced the town square. Mostly wooden shacks and run-down shanties, while a few stone structures were present though weathered in age. The streets were narrow, and the square was the most spacious, but it was packed with folk disheveled and unruly.
The mob was interspersed with carts pulled along by donkeys and merchants selling wares in vain to the enthralled crowd. It was a “trial” in name only. A crier shouted through missing molars and cavities in his teeth about numerous crimes and offenses while a hulking hooded man held a torch in one hand and a delicate figure bound by ropes in the other.
The girl was silent and stared forward blankly. She was short and thin, appearing to be lacking in nourishment. She had faded, cold blue eyes that appeared to be empty and were between dried tear stains that ran down her face. Dirt and grime covered her pale face and caked her light blonde hair, and her clothes were nothing but brown rags and a makeshift patchwork that were worse than what the poor denizens of the town wore.
The masses looked on with disgust, anger, and excitement for the anticipated event. Metas glanced and averted his gaze and let out a sigh after making a disgruntled grimace. Felkin looked in concern and silent shock as he slowly walked through the rabble. Metas led and Felkin followed as they made their way to a church at the edge of town. It was small but was once a beautiful structure with the stone construction now growing moss, and the tinted glass now cracked and fractured letting in streaks of sunlight.
Metas met with an aged man in weathered robes, with a nervous twinge and a worried brow. Metas started to speak but the old man cut him off. “Finally, someone has come to help us, nobody has yet to answer our request.” As the man was speaking, Metas surveyed the ruined church and glanced outside. A rural and secluded settlement, filled with vice and ruin, same as many others, no wonder no one has come here to help them.
“So?” the old man asked, “So…?” Metas had been caught unaware of the conversation. “Is the gentleman there with you to assist us.” Asked the nervous man, a bead of sweat rolling down his cheek. “Ah, this one here is a traveler, he would likely assist me of these matters, yes.” “Praise be!” cried the priest, he would then on explain the situation faced by the town to Metas.
Felkin felt like he was in a different world. All that he could recall was his life in the deserted forest grove but did not know how long he had even been there. The crowd has been chanting more loudly now. He still had one hand on his weapon, strapped on his waist. From there he could here bits and pieces like “Witch”, “Heretic”, and more commonly “Burn.” He felt unease and gripped harder on his weapon. Metas then finished his conversation and tapped Felkin on the back as he briskly walked past. “Let’s go.” Said Metas. Felkin followed.
“We need to get ‘her’.” Metas said pointing his spear towards the one on the pyre. “If she is the source of the creatures that emerge around here, we can get some information out of her; if she’s innocent, it’s a good thing we saved her;” “If she’s not innocent?” Felkin interjected. “if she’s guilty we might as well give her back or dispose of her ourselves.”
Smoke slowly billowed out the bottom of the pyre, but gusts of wind staved the fire off. The weather went from sunny to cloudy and overcast. Felkin stood and pointed his dull implement at the pyre. “I have this.” Said Metas. Felkin slowly put down his weapon and looked at Metas in curious anticipation. “This might be counter-intuitive.” Metas closed his eyes, and the screams of the crowd were drowned out and his mind was at silence. He snapped his fingers and the ropes that tied her down were cut loose in sparks of flame. “Catch her.”
Felkin faltered for a split second in surprise then ran hastily through the crowd and caught the accused and put them over his shoulder. The mob was silent and taken aback for a moment when one old woman barely visible in the crowd shouted for: “Guards! Townsmen! Get them! Kill the witch, get the interlopers!”
A few from the rabble ran after the pair but Metas whirled his weapon like a lasso and struck down the pursuers with a sharp strike of the dull end of his spear. Felkin ran hastily with uneven strides and shaky breath, he seemed unfamiliar with running and held tight on the load he carried as he rushed through the streets.
The two were making their way towards the entrance of the town, when a group of hollering citizens with torches, pitchforks and makeshift weaponry had gone around one of the alleyways and tried to intercept them. They veered left into an alleyway and Felkin lengthened his segmented weapon and struck the tops of two buildings to create rubble and blockade behind them as they entered the nook of the city. The townsfolk picked at the wood, cloth and hay that formed the barricade between them and the ‘witch’ they were seeking.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
They were uncooperative and some were trying to go around, trying to climb up a house and others just stood and screamed obscenities while furiously trying to dig through the rubble. In the alley, the two rooves of the adjacent houses almost met each other and there was a line of sunlight than ran along the alleyway and all else was covered in shadow.
The ragged brown clothes and leather armor Felkin wore blended well in the environment of the settlement, his eyes stared blankly at one of the walls, briefly glancing at the person he set down as he listened to the mob and held his weapon as he stuck it into the ground. Metas’ dry and pale face were moist with droplets of sweat, the furs and skull of the creature still affixed to the chain around his waist. “Talk.” Metas pointed his spear at her. “Awful weather to be wearing all that, huh?” She was sarcastic but her facial expression remained the same.
Wistful, dark circles were around her eyes, their blue color was faded, she wore raggedy cloth and seemed smaller than she actually looked. “I see that you took a piece from one of them.” She said as she gestured towards the items on Metas’ waist. “So, you know about them then… Tell me what you know or I’ll throw you to the wolves out there. They might even let us off.” “So, you’re content with letting of a ‘witch’ who let beasts rampage and run rampant?” Felkin interjects. “Just talk.” He pointed his sword in a non-threatening manner. “Let’s go then.” She said, looking sickly and tired. She walked firmly, and Felkin stood up and walked deeper into the alleys behind her. Metas was momentarily stunned by her audacity but quickly matched their pace and walked up to her. Metas towered over her, and he gave her a look of slight confusion and irritation, she just stared back blankly while walking. Felkin was watching her and was also listening to the distant clamor of the crowd, and the rats occasionally crawling around in the area.
The town was small but deep within the packed houses was a labyrinth of wood and stone, the paths were sprawling and some would lead to dead ends, the voices of people around the corner and within the houses and buildings were close by. They walked pass a few urchins and the destitute, a few looked at them but none paid much heed.
It was also the breeding ground for crime and misdeeds, not that the actions of those in town were much better. A few miscreants were up ahead, thugs with worn shirts and knives in their pockets aside from the ones in their hands. They turned towards the witch, the smell of alcohol and other pungent odors were detected meters away. The moment their gaze turned towards them, in a split second Metas pulled out his spear and Felkin extended his weapon and held it high.
Up ahead of the group, a pool of darkness began to emerge from the bandit’s shadows. A dark shape viciously whipped through them and their bodies crashed into the walls and into the ground. The “witch” stepped over them and Felkin wondered if they were still alive, which did not matter because they were unmoving and no longer their most pressing concern. Metas walked ahead of her and blocked her way with a spear, only moments ago had he realized that the skull that was on his waist was missing and was clutched by her. She had plucked a tooth out of its jaw and the tooth soon began to turn to dust. The skull was big, seemed even bigger in her small, weathered hands.
“Shadow magic huh… Who are you and where are we headed?” Metas was calm but serious in tone. “My name is Yuria… I’m just getting some of my things from over here. Then I’ll answer your questions and go where you need me to. It’s just over here.” Yuria handed him back the skull. Metas lowered his weapon and they continued walking for a few seconds. Then they happened upon a makeshift shelter constructed with loose wood and had scraps of cloth, Felkin was suddenly reminded of the makeshift shelter he left behind.
Yuria bent down and scrounged up a few things from under the rags. Metas’ eyes grew as she pulled a spine, strangely bent like that of a lycanthrope. It was at an unnatural length and compared to her, it would be longer still if it would be laid out in its entirety. She folded it and slung it over her shoulder, she stood up and paused. “Questions then?” she spoke softly but sternly. Metas responded. “What is the origin of those beasts, and what is your relation to them?” She turned around looked at him and answered. “These creatures are of the abyss. They lie in the deep darkness below and rise to the surface. I was drawn to them like a moth to flame. I can manipulate them but I cannot ascertain their origin besides what I felt. I am sorry.” Felkin and Metas stood there as Yuria started to walk away.
Metas asked: “What are you going to do now?” “Going to finish something that I was rudely interrupted earlier.” Felkin sees the spine she carried, as well as remembering her on the pyre. “Stop.” He speaks. His empty gaze is now replaced with a serious look, he put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t” his eyes were filled with compassion, Metas looked on curiously.
They faced the streets now and the mob was approaching. Metas was wondering if she planned to destroy everything including herself but realizes he should intervene due to the risk of massive and unneccesary loss of life. Metas raised his spear. “I’m afraid I cannot let you to do that.” He walked towards her. Felkin drew his weapon and gripped her shoulder tightly with his hand. The footsteps and shrieks of the mob grew nearer and as Metas stepped closer the ground began to rumble.
One member of the crowd, an old crone who had a hunched back and a mad glint in their eyes spotted her and let out an inhuman hollering. The mob turned their attention to her and began to move when suddenly pooled out from the ground and the sky was beginning to dim. In a split second, the area was swallowed by darkness and Metas threw his spear at Yuria in a panic before his vision was occluded.
Felkin was in a state of confusion as he held his weapon, prepared to use it on the mob, on Metas and even on the witch; so that he did not notice the darkness until he was swallowed up by it.
He stirred up and awoke. He recalled the time he awoke earlier and that he did not remember much before sleeping. But he was stricken by fear for even as his eyes were open, he could see nothing but darkness. He stood up and looked down and could see his hands and feet but everything else was not to be found.
Suddenly he heard something, it was Metas calling out. Felkin approached the sound and could see a faint spark glimmering in the darkness. Metas had a small flame that settled above his open palm and held it out and saw Felkin walking towards him. As Felkin walked closer he could see another shape, Yuria was walking alongside Metas.
Yuria was still holding the spine, although it was visibly diminished and was noticeably shorter. Felkin approached them and noticed Metas’ slight expression of annoyance. Yuria spoke. “Welcome to the abyss.” She spoke quietly but Felkin could notice in the slight glint of Metas’ firelight, a faint smile had emerged from her once wistful and tired face.