When Elder Matthews mentioned his skill, the already gloomy air around the table turned increasingly grim.
“How bad are we talking, Elder?” asked David.
The goblin looked directly into his eyes.
“Worse than the Conally’s.”
Bea gasped. Morgan swore. Zach seemed to shrink up.
David, though, looked even more resolved.
I could only assume that the skill mentioned was the one Bea told me about on the way here, which would allow the elder to discover and deal with problems in the village before they happened.
Seeing the apparent confusion on my face, though, Bea decided to explain.
“The Conally’s were a family who were with us from the start. There were Mr. and Ms. Conally, and their three children. Yesterday, their oldest child, without telling anyone, decided to try and become a monster tamer. He managed to catch a Treerat in a cage by knocking it out with sleeping pills, bringing it into his family’s tent at night. Simply put, it escaped, and they didn’t make it.
“It was the first time Elder Matthew’s warning skill was activated. That skill is the only reason the body count wasn’t higher than five.”
It took only a moment to understand the gravity of the situation. This was a problem greater than five deaths. Chances were it was too late for the volunteers sent out yesterday, but the threat remained.
No one was willing to stay and wait with the elder much longer. We bid quick farewells, shaking his hand in turn, before leaving the small pavilion. When he came to me, though, he paused.
Grasping my hand in his tiny green claws, he looked deep into my eyes.
“You know, you don’t have to be here, Vic. I appreciate the help you’re offering my village, but I don’t want to overstep.”
I calmly shook my head while freeing myself from his grasp.
“I appreciate the thought,” I answered, “but I have a vested interest in seeing this cult wiped out.”
“The town of Bridge is deeply thankful,” said the elder with a smile and a slight bow.
Embarrassed, I could only nod before following the others out of town.
----
We marched through the woods south of Bridge in single file, with me in the rear, as we followed a messy trail of footprints left by the missing volunteers the previous day.
Bored from the long walk, I increased speed until I was beside David. His expression was unchanged, and though he wasn’t running outright, his marching speed was fast.
“David, do you think I should fly ahead?”
He calmly shook his head.
“No, Vic,” he answered, tone darkening to the point where I hardly recognized it, “They’ve been gone too long already for the twenty minutes it will take to walk there to matter. But thanks for asking.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Eyes forward, the Crimson Falcons continued to march. I could only follow in step.
Long gone was the bombastic adventurer who I first encountered. This David was a natural leader. Seeing this side of him, I thought I could better understand why the people of Bridge held him in such high esteem.
A few minutes of marching later, we came out of the woods, entering a clearing surrounding a cluster of buildings. Immediately noticeable among the rooftops was a white steeple next to a small plume of smoke.
The Crimson Falcons shared a glance, then silently drew their weapons. Unconsciously, I fumbled for the hilt of my machete, only to find nothing. Cursing the turtle monsters inwardly, I instead pulled out my survival knife. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. Regardless, I would be focusing on magic for this fight.
Swiftly, the party advanced towards the buildings. As we lined up behind the crumbling remains of someone’s home, Zach crouched down onto all fours and vanished into a plume of black energy without a trace of noise. After only a few seconds, he returned.
“Sixteen cultists,” he whispered, “four in the church, six out front around the fire, and six more playing cards in the brick house behind the churchyard. No sign of anyone else. But there’s lots of blood.”
David trembled in fury, moving to address the party.
“Thanks, Zach. Alright, everyone. Considering our skill sets, there’s no way to do this except loud and fast. I’ll advance with Bea and Morgan outside to draw their attention. Morgan, I want you to hammer them with your spells. Zach, when the fighting starts, I want you behind the guys in the brick house. Pick them off one at a time as they move to strike. Vic will provide air support, attacking the group outside from behind. Any questions?”
Nobody spoke up. The plan seemed reasonable enough.
“In that case, let’s move.”
As the party split up to get in position, I levitated only a few feet off the ground while staying as horizontal as possible, keeping below the window line. Falling into place off to the side of the church, I waited for the fighting to begin.
I didn’t have to wait long.
With a booming crash, a plume of flame erupted in front of the church, accompanied by screams of pain. Rising to twenty feet, I summoned a storm lance in my palm as I took in my surroundings.
The area around the church was a mess. All along the walls of the building, there were crimson runes scrawled against the white paint. The green grass out front had long since been burned away and was replaced by messy wooden stakes haphazardly shoved into the dirt like something out of Mad Max.
Five cultists were dashing down the road toward David, Bea, and Morgan. A sixth lay dead on the ground with a smoldering hole carved through his chest. As I watched, Morgan held her staff aloft. A pinpoint of flame at its tip arose, quickly building to the size of a softball. With a shout, she aimed her staff, sending a fireball lancing forwards.
It struck another cultist in the shoulder, searing entirely through him before glancing off the side of another. Both fell to the ground, screaming in agony. It seemed that following the evil god of murder and pain didn’t make getting burned to death any less horrible.
Soon, it was my time to act. The church's front doors flew open, and four cultists, all some type of beastkin, followed closely behind. They were unarmed, but each sported wicked claws on each fingertip that they brandished with manic glee.
As soon as they started moving towards David, I sent a storm lance their way, instantly creating a second before I knew if my attack would strike true.
As the first lance crashed into the back of the closest cultist, I rocketed forward, sending my second attack flying into another. Where the lances struck, electricity flashed, and the flesh seemed to disappear as the chaotic energy consumed it. Two bodies hit the floor, twitching slightly in their death throws.
The remaining two cultists turned towards me, eyes manic and bloodthirsty. Their mouths opened as one, releasing bellows of rage, as a sickly red glow filled their veins with their god's power.
Cloaking my knife in crackling energy and calling forth a storm ball, I closed in on the pair. As they jumped at me, I plunged the knife right through one of the cultist's sternum, quickly ripping it out. The other met a worse fate as he threw himself into a spinning mass of storm energy that ravaged his insides. Two more bodies fell.
Looking back towards the others, I saw David plunge his sword into the chest of the one cultist left standing. From the front door of the brick house, Zach stepped forward. The front of his clothes were covered in blood stains, and he had a slight limp but seemed otherwise unharmed.
The cultists were defeated.