Suddenly, they heard a scream, followed by Goreth shouting. Anna spun to see one of the Narsho warriors had been grabbed and was being dragged into the swamp. Goreth desperately tried to hold onto him, but the angle made it difficult to do so.
Anna looked to see a brown tentacle of sorts wrapped around the warrior’s leg. She gasped, immediately thinking it was a Horror, but as she sprinted to help the man, she noticed that even the ugly tentacle emerging from the swamp wasn’t a fraction as unnatural and hideous as the one she had been grabbed by.
“Is it one of … them?” Elder Matkon asked in panic.
Anna removed one of her swords and hacked at the tentacle as the other warriors struggled to save their friend. The tentacle quickly receded, red blood oozing from it. From what she could tell, this was not the product of a Horror. A moment later, her assumption was proven correct.
A slick, smooth creature emerged from the swamp. It had a long, strange mouth and its eyes were black. Its skin was brownish green, and it blended well with the swamp. It had at least eight other tentacles waving around it, in lieu of arms, and a nasty beak below two black eyes. While it seemed dangerous, Anna felt relieved to uncover the attacker’s true identity was not a Horror.
“That’s a swamp beast,” Goreth said as he tossed the warrior back onto the boardwalk.
“A swamp beast?” Anna asked, sheathing her sword and taking out her bow.
“Aye. I think so,” Goreth replied, his sword and shield at the ready.
The swamp beast let loose a deep, waterlogged cry and lunged at them. Its wavering tentacle arms came from all directions and began to smacked at the shieldless Narsho warriors. However, it failed to grab any of them, as its tentacles were subjected to the sharp deflections of their swords.
Anna let loose an arrow that struck the beast directly in its eye. It howled in pain, falling back into the swamp. It yelled one last time at them before retreating back into the swampy depths, red blood now floating on the surface of the water.
“Good work!” Elder Matkon yelled, taking in each member of the group.
“We should get moving,” Goreth said monotonously, wiping blood from his sword.
“I agree. Who knows how many more there could be,” Elder Matkon approved.
Anna nodded and continued ahead. It wasn’t much longer until they came to a large chunk of land in the swamp, a strange yet elegant statue standing in the middle. Anna stopped to stare upon it, having never seen anything like it. She looked at the others, who seemed equally interested.
“Who do you suppose that is?” Anna asked aloud.
“Hm. Perhaps one of the gods? We may not worship them much anymore, but the Great Clan and clans before them did immensely. This does look quite old, after all,” Elder Matkon theorized, approaching the statue.
“His helmet looks like that Highrock chief’s,” Goreth pointed out.
“You’re right. I believe our own chieftain has a helmet similar, though he doesn’t often wear it. I would imagine then this is one of the gods,” Elder Matkon pondered, rubbing his hand through his hair.
Anna turned away from the statue, looking for the way forward. They now stood on what appeared to be a circle of land, and there were no boardwalks she could easily see. She figured they were hidden like the others. Before she went to investigate, she noticed footprints in the mud. Kneeling, she saw the footprints led to where she stood, then back towards the same direction. It was the opposite of where they had come, and she knew it couldn’t have been one of theirs. She followed the prints to where the boardwalk should be and stepped forward. As expected, the boardwalk revealed itself. She turned to the others, wanting to leave the swamp.
“I found the path forward! Footprints lead this way!” Anna yelled.
The others stopped staring at the statue and followed her. They all walked over, looking through the slightly foggy swamp into the distance. Anna wasn’t sure if it was the right way, but it was their best bet.
“I would expect no less from such a competent scout,” Elder Matkon lauded.
Anna smiled and then proceeded down the hidden boardwalk. As they continued, they conversed of the gods and which one the statue depicted. Anna had never known much of the gods, although Fredrik had been interested. Fredrik had always been interested in all parts of the world around them. He used to tell stories he had heard about when the gods themselves used to walk among humans. She wondered if the ruined town they had found had something to do with the supposed gods. The only four she knew of were Ty’roel, Yrollshama, Svune, and Faraldo. She didn’t know much beyond that, apart from the fact that Faraldo was supposedly a god of chaos and trickery.
She pondered the old stories until they noticed a tower ahead of them. It stood tall over the rest of the swamp and was beyond a wall and many other buildings. Behind it was a large hill. Anna figured this must have been the village of the Ancient Clan.
As they approached the gate, a young robed man stood, seemingly unsurprised with their presence. He wore a simple brown robe, and his hair had been cut short. He smiled at them as they approached.
“Hello there,” Elder Matkon greeted, walking slightly ahead of Anna.
“Oh, hello! Wow, he was right … Please, please enter” the young man nervously smiled, opening the large gate.
Elder Matkon nodded and entered. Anna was surprised with the lack of formality and followed close behind with the rest. As they entered, she was even more surprised by a large crowd of brown-robed people standing before them. They were all resting, surrounded by carts and their belongings. As they entered the village, Anna noticed two men standing at the front of the group; their robes had a silver trim around the arms and waist, with a symbol drawn on the front. They stepped forward, and Anna recognized the older man. His eye glowed blue, and his hair appeared to have had turned white. This was undoubtedly the Seer she had seen at their village that day, which felt so long ago now.
“Anna Myhre, Elder Matkon, Champion Goreth Destro, and other brave Narsho. We have been waiting for you,” Seer Mordou smiled as he held his arms out. “We have much to discuss as we walk.”
“As we walk?” Elder Matkon asked, confused.
“Why, yes. Our entire clan is ready to stand behind you and accompany you back to your village. After all, it is what needs to happen I’m afraid,” Seer Mordou explained confidently. “If humanity, our people, are to survive, this is what we must do.”
Chapter 15
Peering through the trees, Garon Mace stared at his home with mixed emotions. The flames of evening fires lit the village, and he could see a guard standing at the gate. He had been deciding whether to try to sneak in or simply announce his presence during his solo walk home. Now that he had arrived, he wasn’t sure what to do.
He walked into the open, slowly approaching the gate. It took a moment before the guard saw him. By the time he recognized Garon, they were only feet apart. The young guard seemed confused and unsettled before the exiled prince even spoke.
“Good evening,” Garon greeted.
“Prince Mace? You’ve been exiled. You aren’t allowed here…” the guard said, lacking confidence.
“I know that. I’m sorry for the position I’ve put you in. I just want to speak to my father regarding a grave threat. I know you cannot let me in, but I beg of you, at least relay my message,” Garon explained, knowing his people’s fate may rest on this moment.
“A grave threat? Are the Narsho going to retaliate?” the guard asked worriedly.
Garon stared at him, unsure of what to say. At this moment, it would be so easy to lie and play upon their fear of the Narsho. After all, the rival clan was the only enemy they’d recognize. Garon didn’t think the guard would respond to a threat as bizarre as the Horrors of which Anna had told him. Garon hated to lie to his people, but it would be the only chance he had to see his father and tell him the truth.
“They are. I stayed behind to hear them out, but I was wrong. I don’t expect to be let ba
ck in; I just want to speak to my father, the chief king, and let him know what I heard,” Garon lied, hating himself for it.
The guard nodded, unsure what to do. He paced for a moment before realizing this was not his call to make.
“Given the situation, I will ask. Please wait here and do not enter until I return,” the guard instructed, again his voice revealing his uncertainty.
“Thank you. I will await your return,” Garon nodded.
He watched as the guard went through the large wooden gate and latched it shut behind him. He wasn’t sure if his father would believe his words, or even want to see him, but it was a risk he had to take, as the stakes were too high.
Garon took a seat on a nearby stump and stared at the sky. The stars above him looked as they always did, their lights glowing among the darkness of night. For a moment, Garon found himself lost in their brilliance. It looked like the largest city he could imagine, its lights reaching all the way down to him. He wondered if perhaps other people were up there in the heavens, watching over them. Or perhaps people like him looking back somehow. Were those stars other realms? The eyes of the gods? He certainly would never know. For now, they were his distraction.
Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for the gate to open. As Garon stood, he was shocked to see his father and Lorag, the single remaining Highrock Champion. It seemed his father would stick to his decision to exile him, but at least he would listen.
“My son. I am surprised you have returned here. I thought you smart enough to understand what I meant by exiled,” Chief King Mace said coldly, walking out from the gate.
Garon was shocked by his father’s poor condition; he walked with a hunch, as if his wounds from fighting Chieftain Barod were worse than he thought. Not only that, the chief king’s skin looked pale as it reflected off the torchlight.
“Father, Champion, I come bearing terrible news,” Garon began, ignoring his father’s comment.
“What news is that, traitor?” Lorag asked, crossing his large and crudely tattooed arms.
Chief King Mace held a weak hand in front of Lorag, stalling the Champion’s words. Garon wasn’t sure if his father simply didn’t want to see his son disrespected, or if he was that intent on hearing the news. Either way, Garon knew his father may just walk away after finding out he had news about the Horrors instead of the Narsho.
“Answer him, Son. What news do you bring?” Chief King Mace asked with suspicion.
“I bring news of a grave threat to our, er, your clan,” Garon began. “If it isn’t defeated, all could be lost.”
“Why do I get the feeling you aren’t talking about the Narsho?” Chief King Mace asked, frowning in slight anger.
“Because I am not. I speak of a danger far greater than the Narsho or anything else. Father, the Seer was right; people have seen the creatures they call Horrors that lurk among the Cursed Lands. If we do not fight them, we will fall to them,” Garon explained.
“Bah! You’ve lied to us. Such dishonor makes me ashamed to be your father. Goodbye, Garon,” Chief King Mace snapped, turning away from his only son.
“No, Father!” Garon pleaded, stepping toward the man.
Lorag stepped between the two of them, putting his hand up. He had a cocky smile and thought that would be enough to stop Garon. However, it was not.
Garon grabbed Lorag and quickly employed a takedown move Trov had taught him long ago. It was the only hand-to-hand combat move he knew, but still, it was effective. Garon used his own leg to trip the Champion and grabbed his arm and swung the man full force over it. Not suspecting the exiled prince to fight back, Lorag went down quickly and loudly. Garon stepped around the temporarily crumpled man and lightly grabbed his father’s shoulder, causing him to spin around in surprise.
“You dare put your hand on me? What are you thinking?” Chief King Mace roared with surprise and outrage.
“You need to listen to me! These creatures, these Horrors, they aren’t like fighting a human. They infest the land around them, they take a hold of life and bend it to their will. Anna said they can even infest a brave warrior and turn them into something of their own! They didn’t stand a chance when they fought them, and unless the clans all band together, we may all fall separately!” Garon pleaded, holding his father’s shoulder tightly.
Garon watched as his father processed the words, appearing to be interested in what he had to say. He simply stared at his son for a moment, trying to understand exactly what he had just heard. For a moment, Garon thought he had gotten through to his father.
“You’re saying the Narsho stood no chance against this foe?” Chief King Mace asked.
“They didn’t! And neither will we unless—”
“Step away from our chief king!” Lorag yelled, lurching Garon harshly back. The Champion drew his greataxe from his back and stepped between father and son.
“Lorag, you are the sole Champion of the Highrock people. Do you not wish to protect them against those who would destroy them?” Garon asked, looking into the Champion’s eyes.
“That is not for me to decide, exiled one. That is for my chief king to command,” Lorag snarled, tightening the grip on his greataxe.
“Then Father, please listen! Those Horrors to the east in the Cursed Lands are coming unless we strike them down first! Anna thinks they serve some greater lord, but regardless they cannot be avoided!” Garon pleaded one final time.
“Enough! You have delivered your message. I will consider your words; however, I will never stand with the Narsho,” Chief King Mace spoke proudly. “Now, my son, you must leave, and do not return or you shall face much worse consequences than being exiled.”
Garon’s heart sank at the words. His father had heard him, but he would not join the other clans. He wasn’t sure if his father would even do anything, but something about his words made him appear to take the threat seriously. Regardless, Garon hated having to leave his home permanently. He knew what being an exile meant.
“You heard him. Leave our village,” Lorag growled.
Garon only nodded, turning away from the home he would likely never see again. He knew he had done his part, and everything he could possibly do. If his father truly cared for his people, he would send scouts to the Cursed Lands. He hoped his father had heard the emotion in his voice.
As Garon made his way through the dark forest, he knew he’d have to make camp soon. It would be too long of a walk back to the Narsho village, and the last thing he wanted was to run into trouble while he was alone and tired. He was just happy the moonlight was bright enough to illuminate the path ahead.
Thinking of the Narsho village, he knew he’d likely beat Anna back, considering she had to travel to two villages. He figured they’d still let him in regardless of her not being there, but she was the only person he had opened up to
He smiled as he thought of Anna, having enjoyed his brief time with her. It wasn’t only her kindness he enjoyed, but her fierce determination that set her apart. She knew what was important and had the mental strength to set aside past grudges and unnecessary emotion. On top of all that, she was pregnant. She didn’t let anything stop her.
Garon hadn’t inquired about the father’s identity, but figured he was no longer with her. Between what he had heard, he assumed it was the man Fredrik she had mentioned, which was likely the same Fredrik another Narsho had referred to as dead. While Garon had only grown up with one parent, he knew Anna would be a far better parent than his father had been to him. He knew her child would be fine.
As the stars above guided Garon, he could only wonder at what would become of his people. Given the supposed strength of the Horrors, perhaps his father’s concentration would shift toward them and away from the Narsho for once. Now, only time could tell, and Garon only hoped it wasn’t too late—not just for his people, but for all the clans.
Chapter 16
As they walked, Valon couldn’t shake the sense of dread that filled him after hearing Anna’s descriptions.
Despite all the texts, tomes, and other documents he had read over his life, Valon had never heard such a vivid, clear, and absolutely disturbing account. These strange creatures—Horrors as she called them—sounded world-ending. Not to mention the infestation they spread through the forest.
He looked back at the hundreds of people walking behind them. The entirety of the Ancient Clan—his people—had made the decision to flee their ancestral home to go to the Narsho village. It was their only choice considering everything that had happened, and had they stayed behind they would’ve perished on their own. At least, that’s the conclusion they came to based on farsight and Distichum’s warning.
Valon looked back to his master, who walked in front of him with Elder Matkon. While his master hadn’t revealed his entire vision, or perhaps not understood it all, one thing was clear from it: what Seer Mordou saw and what the Arboreal had said had many similarities. Valon was surprised to hear that not even his master had met the secretive race of the Arboreals. However, the Seer believed his apprentice, and they concluded no clan was safe alone, and it made sense to move everyone to one village in case of the worst. If they had to flee, they could do so together. Now they just had to convince the Linta Clan to do the same.
Having acted strangely after the farsight, Valon still wondered what else his master had seen that he was withholding or couldn’t put into words. All he had told Valon was the clans and their Champions had to unite to fight the threat, and that beyond the Cursed Lands on the east coast was a place that could help them. However, Seer Mordou was intent on having Valon keep the latter of that information to himself, as he only saw a select few going to these ruins. As for who these people were, so far Seer Mordou had only identified himself, Valon, Anna, and Goreth the Forud Champion. There were two more he claimed he could only truly see when they met. Whoever these mysterious two were, they weren’t part of the Ancient Clan.
Rise of the Champions Page 15
