Rise of the Champions

by Nicholas Joslin

  Titus and a few other warriors were just behind him and made quick work of the other risen clanspeople. They all had to fight back urges of sickness at the terrible sight, muttering at the brutality of it all.

  Chieftain Barod did not stop escorting Wooll until they were safely within the walls. Even then his adrenaline was running, and he couldn’t stop searching for new enemies. Given how the corruption of the Horrors spread, enemies could be anywhere.

  “By the gods, it got me,” Chieftain Wooll grumbled as he handed off the wounded Forud to a nearby warrior.

  “Herold, your arm; that needs healing now!” Chieftain Barod exclaimed, noticing the river of blood now soaking his arm.

  “Chieftains!” a nearby Ancient Clan mage yelled as he quickly walked over.

  Chieftain Barod said nothing, waiting for the old man to approach. As he did, the chieftain first noticed a pale scar under his left eye. The man seemed frail yet walked with determination. His brown robes were already covered in blood.

  “I can heal his arm. I have been healing my entire life,” the old man said with a small smile.

  “I won’t argue against that. Please, do what you can, old man” Chieftain Wooll laughed, kneeling next to the man and catching his breath.

  “Thank you,” Chieftain Barod added quietly, too preoccupied with his friend possibly turning.

  The old man simply nodded as he gently placed his hand over Chieftain Wooll’s wound. A blue light emerged from his hand, small wisps of magic fragmenting away and disappearing. A small hum accompanied it as the blue light enveloped his arm. As he continued, however, a strange red light glowed from his wound.

  “What? There’s magic already inside of you?” the old man asked.

  “So that’s how they turn then, is it?” Chieftain Wooll asked aloud, shaking his head.

  “Turn?” the old man asked, looking at Chieftain Barod.

  “Yes. We must keep an eye on all the wounded. It seems some, or perhaps all, will transform into a Horror if they are wounded by one. The dead always seem to transform … Can you help him?” Chieftain Barod explained, desperation in his voice.

  “I can try,” the man replied nervously.

  The blue light intensified and began to push the red light back, but a few moments later, it stopped and the healer’s hand was forced away. He shook his hand as though in pain and looked with great concern at Chieftain Wooll’s arm. While it had been mostly healed, there was still a dim red light emanating from a small scratch in the center. The veins around the area looked slightly blackened as well.

  “I cannot dispel whatever magic this may be. I believe I have slowed it down, but nobody here will be able to completely remove whatever that is. I am sorry…” the old man said, a small tear forming in his eye.

  “No, no, don’t be sorry. I’ll be fine for now,” Chieftain Wooll said, standing back up. “Could you tell the other healers about this? Our wounded will likely have the same… affliction.”

  “Of course. I will go now, Chieftain,” the old man nodded, still upset.

  Chieftain Barod didn’t know what to say to his friend and could only think of all the ways this could have been avoided; if he hadn’t stopped Wooll from going to the wounded, if perhaps he had joined his friend, so many things could have changed the course of events and led to a different outcome.

  “Herold … I am so sorry…” Chieftain Barod said with a heavy heart, placing his hand gently on his oldest friend’s shoulder.

  “Jonis…” Chieftain Wooll said, using the name he hadn’t used since they were young. “Do not apologize, this isn’t your doing.”

  “I should have realized it sooner! I should have been at your side!” Chieftain Barod yelled, drawing stares from nearby warriors.

  “No, it isn’t your fault, friend. You cannot always be by my side, just as I have not always been by yours. Now I can imagine the suffering your people have gone through since we did not stand by you in your time of need. For that, I am the one who is sorry,” Chieftain Wooll explained, taking his pipe from his pocket.

  Chieftain Barod barely fought off tears as he saw the look of acceptance in his friend’s eyes. As Chieftain Wooll lit and took a puff from his pipe, he closed his eyes as if it would be his last. The sight almost made Chieftain Barod hopeless, but he remembered it wasn’t over yet. The most powerful users of magic were not with them and would be returning soon.

  “No, Herold. Don’t apologize. We shouldn’t dwell on the past,” Chieftain Barod urged, putting out his hand toward his friend and signaling he wanted the pipe. “Seer Mordou can help us.”

  Lifting an eyebrow, Chieftain Wooll handed his friend the pipe. He said nothing as Chieftain Barod took a large puff of it but couldn’t help a chuckle as his friend coughed from his inexperience in smoking. As he took back the pipe, Chieftain Wooll’s look of defeat was replaced with rising hope.

  “You are right. We can only look forward now. I hope they return shortly, for all of our sakes,” Chieftain Wooll agreed with an exhale of light smoke.

  “They will return and aid us, I am sure of it,” Chieftain Barod insisted, trying with all his might to remain hopeful.

  Suddenly, Titus came crashing toward them, barely stopping in time before knocking the two over. He was out of breath and his eyes were wide with terror. Chieftain Barod had never seen his Champion like this.

  “Titus! What is it?” Chieftain Barod asked.

  “Chieftains, please, you need to see this,” Titus replied, then ran back toward the gate while gesturing for them to follow. The chieftains did so.

  As they reached the gate, the nearby guards opened it, looking equally horrified. Chieftain Barod stopped next to Titus, who pointed out toward the tree line of the corrupted forest. Being dusk, it was hard to see exactly what he was pointing at, but then he then saw it, feeling goosebumps assault his body.

  “By the gods…” Chieftain Wooll muttered from beside them.

  Standing just outside the tree line was a large line of Highrock warriors, except these were not the Highrock that they had fought recently—no, these warriors had been corrupted to the bone. Their skin was sickly purple, their eyes glowed red, their bodies seemed taller and more muscular than they had been. However, something was different about them compared to normal horrors; these warriors still had some shred of humanity about them.

  Despite their transformation, the corrupted Highrock warriors stood tall and proud as they had before, wielding the same weapons and wearing the same now barely fitting armor they always had. They all wore a look of arrogance and bloodlust, staring at the encampment with a rage unlike any they ever had before.

  “They’ve transformed … But they look relatively humanlike still,” Titus uttered, sickened by the sight.

  As they made eye contact with Chieftain Barod, the semi-Horrors quickly turned in one simultaneous motion. It was an impressive display, and a brief sound of gnarled flesh and metal rang out as they did. Then they marched back into the dark forest, only their red eyes illuminating their path.

  “For our sake, I hope Seer Mordou returns soon,” Chieftain Wooll muttered.

  Chieftain Barod stared into the forest, wondering if his life-long enemy had finally given into his madness. Chief King Mace had been consumed by his hatred long ago, but he had always kept his clan safe and did care about them. Now it seemed the chief king had finally fallen to his hatred and resorted to the most dishonorable and desperate measures possible. Sickened, Chieftain Barod walked back inside the encampment, hoping Anna and the rest of her party would return soon.

  Chapter 22

  As she stared upon it, Anna could only dream of what sort of people lived in such a large, well-constructed city. Passing through great now-crumbling walls made of the same elegant, white stone, nobody spoke a word. While the city looked to have been ransacked at some point due to most all the buildings having been damage beyond age, it was large and intact enough to give them a picture of how it used to look. Large circular d
ecaying towers stood along the walls, some in better condition than others. The city’s hundreds of homes varied in their structural integrity, some crumpled into nothing but dust and others remaining almost entirely intact. Regardless, they were all covered in vines and other creeping flora that were determined to reclaim the city for the earth.

  Like the town Anna had found, the main road down the center of the city was made with fine cobblestone, though this city was enormous compared to the town, and various smaller cobblestone paths led away. Still, the similarities in architecture were undeniable.

  As she looked to her right, Anna could see the city’s port and the ocean in the distance. She wondered if there were any ships here, or anyone still hiding within the homes around them. She was stunned that such a city existed in their realm.

  “Is this the home of the Great Clan?” Goreth asked, eyes wide as he turned to look at the city around him.

  “No, the Great City is far, far west of here. I traveled there once,” Garon answered. “It was large, but nothing compared to this. Our greatest structures were made of rough, grey stone. But most were wood. This white stone, whatever it is, looks to be something entirely different.”

  “Precisely. I’ve been thinking a lot about this since we’ve been traveling,” Valon began, a tome open in his hands. “I believe this was the home of what Distichum called the Holy Elven Empire.”

  “Elves? The ones you told us may be the gods our ancestors spoke of?” Anna asked, walking over and touching a white stone wall of a nearby home.

  “Exactly. I have been theorizing that it was the elves who settled this land long ago. These ruins could be their cities. Their advanced civilization could be why our ancestors referred to them as gods,” Valon explained, speaking faster with excitement.

  “If that’s true, where did they go?” Anna asked, a lock of hair curled around her finger.

  “That I do not know. Perhaps the Shadowalkers of old destroyed them like they did our Great Clan, or perhaps they just left. I only wonder if their people are from here, or came here, perhaps from the land to the south,” Valon pondered.

  “Or they came through a portal,” Seer Mordou pointed out with a cheeky smile as he led them down the cobblestone path.

  “Perhaps they did, from the supposed land of the gods,” Valon added quietly.

  “Now, we are getting close to the source of the magic. Can you sense it too, Valon?” Seer Mordou asked.

  “Perhaps, but it is not great. I think you made a connection in farsight, Master,” Valon replied.

  “I believe that is a possibility,” Seer Mordou replied, hastening his pace.

  As Anna followed, her mind was cluttered with the fantastical, seemingly unreal information. In a matter of weeks her entire view of the world had been shattered, replaced with knowledge that proved to be almost too much, but her motivation to see an end to the Horrors prevented her from thinking on it excessively. For now, her mind was focused on her goal.

  As they neared a larger two-story building, they noticed there were fragments of a wooden door that once stood in the doorway lying just outside on the ground. Only small pieces remained, but it looked as though it had been ripped off the hinge.

  “Look, weapons,” Goreth said, pointing to a few heavily rusted swords partially engulfed by the grass.

  Seer Mordou held out his hand and brought the sword from the ground using magic. It split under the pressure, and he released it and let it fall back to the ground. Based on its decomposition, they had been here a long time.

  “I’m surprised any swords remain at all. It seems there was a battle here quite long ago,” Seer Mordou said, kneeling down and looking at some armor fragments.

  “I wish we had time to search the entire city,” Valon said, shaking his head.

  “Unfortunately, we do not. We must press onwards, for we are close,” Seer Mordou added, starting to walk again.

  “My uncle would be intrigued by all of this,” Becca said quietly.

  “As would Chieftain Wooll,” Goreth agreed, walking next to Becca.

  Anna turned to see Garon staring off into the distance. Ever since they had witnessed the surge of magic coming from the corrupted forest, he had been quiet. She knew the reason but wasn’t sure if she should pry. However, he only seemed to be getting worse.

  As they walked together, Garon didn’t speak. He only followed behind Goreth, eyes ahead and barely blinking. Finally, Anna realized she had to say something; she cared about Garon and knew he wouldn’t fight as effectively now.

  “Garon, are you alright?” Anna asked, placing her hand gently on his arm.

  Garon stopped, turning to Anna and trying hard not to frown. The smallest of tears emerged from his eye before he quickly wiped it away. He took a deep breath, obviously torn from what he had witnessed the day before.

  “No, I’m not. I could’ve saved my father; I could’ve stopped him. I should’ve stayed behind and done something. Is his blood not on my hands?” Garon said, staring at his hands out in front of him.

  “No, Garon. It isn’t,” Anna replied, taking his cold hands in hers. “I saw the hatred in your father’s eyes; you did everything you could.”

  “Did I? I told him about the Horrors. If I hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t have … sought them as allies…” Garon choked, picturing the worst.

  “But that was his terrible choice, not yours. You warned him and tried to broker peace between the clans. Garon, you did everything you possibly could, and your father wouldn’t listen. Don’t blame yourself. Now the only thing you can do to help your clan is press forward and defeat the Horrors,” Anna reasoned, holding Garon’s hands tightly.

  He stared into her eyes, knowing deep down she was right. He found it hard to admit, not wanting to come to the realization that his father would forsake his own people just for vengeance. However, Anna’s words and genuine care helped him realize it wasn’t his fault, it was only his father’s.

  “Thank you, Anna. Your words do help,” Garon said, wiping a final tear from his eye.

  “I’m glad. Now, we must go; if we want to help our people, we need to uncover whatever the Seer is looking for,” Anna urged, gently patting her friend’s back.

  Garon nodded and the two quickly walked to catch up with the group. Anna didn’t mention Garon’s father again, knowing he was likely in a better place. There was nothing they could do now, and she thought Garon might have finally realized that truth as well. Not only that, but she hoped Garon knew who his father truly had been. Chief King Mace had lived in hatred his entire life and would do anything to destroy his enemies, even consorting with darkness itself.

  They caught up to the others and continued onward down the cobblestone path. The ruins of the sprawling city surrounded them, smashed white stone scattered amongst the street from the destroyed buildings. Anna figured this had to have been from fighting, knowing the mere passage of time wouldn’t have caused such damage.

  To Anna, it felt like being in a completely foreign world, all the buildings so different from the clan’s shacks and halls, and the signs being in a language they could not read. Multiple times they stopped to read signposts but failed to translate any of the strange language. The letters looked odd to Anna, who had enough basic literacy of her own language to realize she didn't’ understand this one. The letters of the elves were sharp, bold, and often symmetrical.

  Finally, Seer Mordou stopped as they reached a large grassy area. Surrounding it was a short metal fence. As they approached, Anna quickly noticed innumerable gravestones almost touching each other. The graveyard sprawled for many streets in all directions, and she spotted a large rectangular building far in the center. She guessed that building was where the Seer was leading them.

  “We are close. I believe the power lies just through this graveyard,” Seer Mordou said, eyeing the building in the distance.

  “Mildly disturbing,” Becca chuckled.

  “But what could be here, Master? I sense it
too now, but I do not see anything,” Valon asked, looking all around them.

  “We will soon find out,” Seer Mordou replied, opening the rusty graveyard gate.

  They continued into the long-abandoned graveyard, many of the tombstones coated in a layer of creeping flora. It appeared undisturbed, even during whatever battle had occurred here. Anna felt slightly spooked as they walked, wondering if Horrors could raise the long dead to fight beside them as well.

  As they reached the rectangular building, Anna noticed there were no doors. It was a solid, windowless building that stood directly in the center of the overgrown graveyard. Despite this, she could sense something off about it.

  “Is this it?” Garon asked, placing his hand against the cool white, vine-covered stone.

  “I believe so … But something isn’t right,” Seer Mordou replied.

  “Where’s the door?” Goreth asked, crossing his arms and eyeballing the building.

  “Good question,” Becca replied, walking around the side of the building.

  Anna stared at the building that wasn’t much larger than her home. If this was where they were supposed to go, then why wasn’t there anything here? She racked her brain, studying the bare building. Then, she remembered her basic magic training.

  “Could there be an illusion?” Anna asked Valon.

  “Good question! Let us check,” Valon said with a surprised smile.

  Anna watched as Valon quickly conjured a wisplight. It floated in front of him, glowing blue and reflecting off the building. She followed Valon as he slowly walked around the perimeter, and they both stopped as a strange shimmering appeared roughly the size of a large door on one of the sides.

  “We’ve found something!” Valon shouted to the others.

  As they all walked over, Anna tried touching the stone and half expected to reach through. Her hand stopped as she rubbed against the cold stone, but she could slightly sense the magic of the illusion.

  “Interesting,” Seer Mordou marveled as he approached. “It is a partial illusion, but I believe the stone itself must be moved.”